There’s something you know. Maybe it’s a quote, a famous saying, a philosophical idea, or even a line from a movie…but, for the life of you, you have no idea where it comes from.
You’ve searched for it. You’ve googled it. You’ve opened up random books hoping you flip to the right page. You’ve googled it again. You changed a few words…and you google it again. Perhaps, you have even driven friends and loved ones crazy with your incessant googling.
Well, I have a phrase like that. I’ve shared it and taught it multiple times in many settings. And every time, I try to say it with conviction, mostly so no one will question me on it. I’m always secretly terrified that some well-meaning or moved person will ask where it comes from…and I’ll have no idea!
But! No more! Last night, while G-chatting with a classmate about this week’s Torah portion (because that’s what rabbis do), I decided to give it another shot…and, wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles, I found it!
And! I put it on the back of your service handout. And it will promptly go right onto my bookshelf so I will never lose it again!
Here it is:
חביב הוא השלום, שכל חותמיהם של ברכות אי
נן אלא בשלום.
I believe that prayer is affirmation and aspiration. We come together to remind ourselves and each other of what it is we believe. And amidst all of the complicated, challenging, and at times confounding theological ideas in our liturgy, amidst the ancient Hebrew and the modern poetry, we always come back to a key message:
נן אלא בשלום.
Ḥaviv hu ha’shalom sh’kol ḥotmeihem shel b’rachot einan eileh b’shalom.
Beloved is peace, for the blessings never end unless they end with peace (D'varim Rabbah 5:15)
So that is a quasi-direct translation, bouncing around some of the goofy Hebrew grammar. The gist is: whenever a Jew prays, a Jew always prays for peace. The significant liturgical units, the building blocks of our service, all close with a prayer for peace. The Shema blessings end with “haporeis sukkat shalom” in the Hashkiveinu. The Amidah? Oseh shalom bimromav. Even the priestly blessing ends with “v’yasem lecha shalom.”
This may come as a surprise from the rabbi…but I really like Jewish prayer. I think it is marvelous, beautiful, and poetic. And this idea is one of the key reasons I show up to Temple every Shabbat (and, for the last 21 days, every weekday too!).
Beloved is peace, for the blessings never end unless they end with peace (D'varim Rabbah 5:15)
So that is a quasi-direct translation, bouncing around some of the goofy Hebrew grammar. The gist is: whenever a Jew prays, a Jew always prays for peace. The significant liturgical units, the building blocks of our service, all close with a prayer for peace. The Shema blessings end with “haporeis sukkat shalom” in the Hashkiveinu. The Amidah? Oseh shalom bimromav. Even the priestly blessing ends with “v’yasem lecha shalom.”
This may come as a surprise from the rabbi…but I really like Jewish prayer. I think it is marvelous, beautiful, and poetic. And this idea is one of the key reasons I show up to Temple every Shabbat (and, for the last 21 days, every weekday too!).
I believe that prayer is affirmation and aspiration. We come together to remind ourselves and each other of what it is we believe. And amidst all of the complicated, challenging, and at times confounding theological ideas in our liturgy, amidst the ancient Hebrew and the modern poetry, we always come back to a key message:
כל חותמיהם של ברכות אינן אלא בשלום.
Ḥaviv hu ha’shalom sh’kol ḥotmeihem shel b’rachot einan eileh b’shalom.
We always close with peace. We pray to affirm that we believe in the supremacy of peace. Peace on high, peace for all Israel, and for all the world.
Knowing that, we dream together about the world we want to create. We speak aloud what we believe and we dream together about what the world might look like should our values come to fruition.
We affirm that Jews are a people who believes in peace. And we take a moment together to aspire toward that ultimate vision.
And, our prayer is more than that. As it often seems to work out, the Torah this week offers some teachings that help frame what prayer is about for me.
This week, we have a double parsha. The first, Matot, begins with an explanation of vows. Vows that come up in “kol nidre….” The words we fear will haunt us on the ultimate day of judgment. Those vows. The text suggests the radical idea that our words matter. It offers that we are meant to be held accountable and expected to make the ideas we utter manifest in the world. To ignore that responsibility, to speak without intention, to waste our incredible gifts of thought, speech, and communication is an affront to our creator, to the force that binds together humanity and the earth. The Torah teaches us that the stakes are high and what we say matters.
While in rabbinical school, I had the opportunity to study with the coolest nun you could ever meet. Janet Walton is a Roman Catholic nun committed social justice, feminist perspectives on worship, and the aesthetics of ritual—a significant underrepresentation of her biography and manifold accomplishments. She taught our collection of eager rabbinical and cantorial students that worship is practice for the real world.
Who we are in here. What we say in here. What we feel in here. Is who we are called to be out there. We are called to act as if the words we say in here matter.
Our prayers are our values, and they are more than our values. Prayer is hope and it is more than hope. Prayers are our dreams, and they are more than dreams. Prayers are words that matter. Prayers are high-stakes words. Prayers are our training ground for our sacred ideas so we can clad ourselves in truth, justice, and in shalom, in peace, as we head out to face each day.
Surely, we pray with our heads and with our hearts. And we are called to pray with our hands and with our feet. We are called, as the Israelites are commanded in Masei, to build cities of refuge, cities of safety, and cities of support. We are called, every time we pray, to affirm, to aspire, and to work toward peace.
We come here for many reasons. For community, for meditation, for memory, for healing, for celebration, but no matter why we come, the end is always peace.
To imagine together the world of peace we so desperately yearn for, and to leave services, go to oneg, and start to plan how we can make that dream a reality.
We always close with peace. We pray to affirm that we believe in the supremacy of peace. Peace on high, peace for all Israel, and for all the world.
Knowing that, we dream together about the world we want to create. We speak aloud what we believe and we dream together about what the world might look like should our values come to fruition.
We affirm that Jews are a people who believes in peace. And we take a moment together to aspire toward that ultimate vision.
And, our prayer is more than that. As it often seems to work out, the Torah this week offers some teachings that help frame what prayer is about for me.
This week, we have a double parsha. The first, Matot, begins with an explanation of vows. Vows that come up in “kol nidre….” The words we fear will haunt us on the ultimate day of judgment. Those vows. The text suggests the radical idea that our words matter. It offers that we are meant to be held accountable and expected to make the ideas we utter manifest in the world. To ignore that responsibility, to speak without intention, to waste our incredible gifts of thought, speech, and communication is an affront to our creator, to the force that binds together humanity and the earth. The Torah teaches us that the stakes are high and what we say matters.
While in rabbinical school, I had the opportunity to study with the coolest nun you could ever meet. Janet Walton is a Roman Catholic nun committed social justice, feminist perspectives on worship, and the aesthetics of ritual—a significant underrepresentation of her biography and manifold accomplishments. She taught our collection of eager rabbinical and cantorial students that worship is practice for the real world.
Who we are in here. What we say in here. What we feel in here. Is who we are called to be out there. We are called to act as if the words we say in here matter.
Our prayers are our values, and they are more than our values. Prayer is hope and it is more than hope. Prayers are our dreams, and they are more than dreams. Prayers are words that matter. Prayers are high-stakes words. Prayers are our training ground for our sacred ideas so we can clad ourselves in truth, justice, and in shalom, in peace, as we head out to face each day.
Surely, we pray with our heads and with our hearts. And we are called to pray with our hands and with our feet. We are called, as the Israelites are commanded in Masei, to build cities of refuge, cities of safety, and cities of support. We are called, every time we pray, to affirm, to aspire, and to work toward peace.
We come here for many reasons. For community, for meditation, for memory, for healing, for celebration, but no matter why we come, the end is always peace.
To imagine together the world of peace we so desperately yearn for, and to leave services, go to oneg, and start to plan how we can make that dream a reality.
חביב הוא השלום,
Ḥaviv hu ha’shalom
Beloved in peace
Beloved in peace
שכל חותמיהם של ברכות אינן אלא בשלום
sh’kol ḥotmeihem shel b’rachot einan eileh b’shalom.
For every blessing ends with the blessing of peace.
For every blessing ends with the blessing of peace.
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