Headstart (Prayer)

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וּמֵחָכְמָתְךָ, אֵל עֶלְיוֹן, תַּאֲצִיל עָלַי, וּמִבִּינָתְךָ תְּבִינֵֽנִי, וּבְחַסְדְּךָ תַּגְדִּיל עָלַי, וּבִגְבוּרָתְךָ תַּצְמִית אוֹיְבַי וְקָמַי

“Shine your Mind into my mind, H’ Most High, imbue me with your Wisdom, invest me with your Virtue, provision me with your Power.”

(free translation of an intention on donning phylacteries)

 

Before mind is filled with self, may we be empty vessels for your Light.

Before tongue begins to explain, may we be empty vessels for your Truth.

Before right arm flexes in zeal, may we be empty vessels for your Grace.

Before left hand clenches fist in anger, may we be empty vessels for your Justice.

Before heart is darkened by despair, may we be empty vessels for your Love.

וְאֵרַשְׂתִּיךְ לִי בֶּאֱמוּנָה, וְיָדַֽעַתְּ אֶת יְיָ

Sanctuary

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אשרי יושבי ביתך

“Happy are those who dwell in your House”

(from the morning and afternoon prayers)

I have seen your Glory reflected, H’, often in silence but also in song, in moments of prayer and in hours of study, in tender love and in tearful loneliness, in the good times of peace and in those long years of war.

I have heard your Voice echoed, H’, as it speaks through children’s laughter and the veils of  pain and suffering.

I have known your Reality sanctified, H’; it fills all worlds, it encompasses all, it vivifies all, it is everywhere, it is always, it is everything. 

But where is your House? Is there not a single shrine in which, day or night, I may encounter you? Is there not one place in which you are forever before me?

“In my heart I shall build a sanctuary.*”

בתוך לבי משכן אבנה לזיוו

(* By Elazar Azikri, a 16th century rabbi who also composed the hymn “Yedid Nefesh”)

Tide pool

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Dragged in by the moon the sea rises; salt spray moistens the dry rock, collects in rivulets and trickles into the lower fissures.

The tide moves in, and swirling streams pour into the once empty pool.  More crashing waves, and barrier, brim and rim are gone, Pool and ocean are one.

Breathe in, hold, bless the One.                                                                              אֵין עוֹד

The  moon moves on, the waters ebb, the currents recede, the barrier returns,

Glistening starfish and fronds of silvery kelp regain their separate home.

Breathe out, hold, praise the Multiplicity.                                                        בָּרוּךְ שֵׁם כְּבוֹד                                                                 Amen, amen

 

A Light at Dusk

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וְהוּא רַחוּם יְכַפֵּר עָוֹן וְלֹא יַשְׁחִית, וְהִרְבָּה לְהָשִׁיב אַפּוֹ, וְלֹא יָעִיר כָּל חֲמָתוֹ.

“The Merciful One That Covers Over Iniquity“
(from the evening prayers)

It is evening, and notwithstanding all our diligent efforts and worthy intentions, the books are still unbalanced. Debts remain unpaid, some of which may weigh upon us, but we lack the means, or the will, to discharge them, whereas of others we remain either oblivious or only vaguely cognizant.

It is not our way simply to incant, “I forgive myself” (whatever that means): real damage has been done and restitution can never be complete. True, we are good people, and will persist in our worldly work on the morrow, but the stain remains, and Yom Kippur is half a year away.

Have mercy, H’, and on this night, as on every night, forgive our sins before we lay down our heads in rest.

הַמֶּֽלֶךְ יַעֲנֵֽנוּ בְיוֹם קָרְאֵֽנוּ

Sing, Don’t Shout

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One who recites every day “The Song of all Creatures”  in this world will surely sing it in the Palaces of Eternity.

An ancient and mysterious text called  “The Song of All Creatures” (Pereq Shirah) tells us that every created being, from the Heavens above to each scorpion, snail and ant below, has its own song, a unique hymn with which it praises H’. This piece, composed of a beautiful selection of relevant biblical verses, once occupied a place in the daily liturgy  — may it be restored.

Each of us too has a particular song, one with which we may offer our prayers. But  however pure its sounds, however intense the yearning it expresses, it can never be a solo performance. We are forever part of numerous ensembles, within which we must listen  to and hear the voices of the other players. No musician can participate in an orchestra without being finely attuned to all the other instruments, and though ultimately every voice is part of the vast cosmic symphony, we are limited beings and must find a local troupe, or troupes, within which we can weave our melodies and create elevating harmonies. So when we sing praise to H’, when we magnify and glorify and sanctify the Source of All, whether standing in the company of trees in the Redwoods, walking with the oppressed of the earth and with those who serve them, or sitting with members of a religious community, let us speak softly and hear the prayers of our fellow beings.

ברוך שומע תפילה

Rekindler of the Extinguished

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בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, מְחַיֵּה הַמֵּתִים

Blessed be H’, Rekindler of the Extinguished

There are times when the fires of spirit seem to grow cold, when fervor abates, prayers become wooden and devotions routine.

All this is natural, and is as much part of the inner life as the cycles of day and night, new moons and old, summer and winter are features of the celestial planes.

But there is a difference. Our minds can comprehend the rhythms of the external world, and our senses let us follow their ebbs and flows. When the hours after midnight seem black and long, we glance at our watches, and yes, just ninety minutes till the first glimmering of dawn; when the waning crescent moon disappears in the east, the almanac will tell us when to expect its return in the west; in the depths of winter we can often smell the approach of spring.

What aids us, though, if the very Face of H grows faint and dim? And if the glowing embers  of Presence flicker out and die, what assurance is there that that dark emptiness will ever end? Who has not experienced fear of an everlasting loss of Spirit?

In fact, terror of the endless eclipse of God can prepare us for renewal. Daily we acknowledge the name of H’ as “Rekindler of the Extinguished.*” When we call from the place of no-spirit,  it is precisely there that the Glory is manifest again, and a great mystery is revealed: H’ resides hidden within its own absence.

“There is no place without H’.“

[* Symbolic interpretation of the prayer for the resurrection of the dead.]

Sweet Song of Exile

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 פִּתְחוּ לִי שַׁעֲרֵי צֶדֶק אָבֹא בָם

Open for me, gates of triumph, open that I may enter and praise H’. This is the gate to H’, through which the company of the Righteous pass.

“Open for me the gates.” The prayer is earnest, the intention pure, but the answer may still be ‘no’; you may not come in, you will have to remain outside. Was not the Great Teacher, Moses himself, denied permission to go into the Land (though he he did gaze at it from the mountaintop)? And did not those others, the lost generations, traverse many stations of trial and purification, only to perish in the wilderness, yearning for but never approaching the Holy of Holies?

And yet, we are told, the farthest are the nearest, the outermost are the innermost, and the most distant of limbs have a place within the heart of hearts.

So the traveler, excluded from those circles of priests and tiers of levites, sits encamped beyond the walls,  and there chants a different song of praise: Blessed is the One that holds the All.

The River and the Flame

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אֲדֹנָי שְׂפָתַי תִּפְתָּח וּפִי יַגִּיד תְּהִלָּתֶֽךָ

Formal prayer is not always easy. The words may not flow naturally, or are blocked by distractions, either inner or outer, or by plain reluctance to repeat familiar phrases of antique devotions. We need help in fine-tuning our voices, in eliminating extraneous thoughts and automatic pieties; and so, immediately before reciting the Amidah, the essential core of the liturgy,  we pause to remember a verse from Psalms:

H’, open my lips that my mouth will speak of your Glory.

This is a simple acknowledgement that we cannot do it alone. “Help me, H’, open wide the floodgates of my heart that the songs of gratitude, of petition, and of praise may gush forth freely.”

But there is another interpretation of that same Hebrew verse, according to which the term “your Glory” refers to an actual manifestation of the divine.

H’, open my lips that my mouth will utter “your Glory.”

We do not pray to H’; rather we offer ourselves as  clear channels for “your Glory,” God’s fire if you will, that it may pass through us on its journey from soul to Source.

 שכינה מדברת מגרונו

“After the Rain The Clouds Return “

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וְתֵן טַל וּמָטָר לִבְרָכָה

“Give dew and showers for a blessing”

(from the winter liturgy)

The dew from Heaven will not descend till all below is still and silent. It cannot cover us with its droplets of pure blessing while busy storms buffet us from without, blustering winds echo through our minds within.

And after the dew come the showers, tears shed in hope and in remorse, weeping in yearning for the Encounter, sobbing in grief over all the dreadful waste.

And after the showers, the streams merge and flow as a single river to water the Garden: the meadow’s browned grasses green again, furry buds spike and bloom, and over there, as the mist rises, could that be the Tree?

ושבו העבים אחר הגשם

Malicious Tongues, Fawning Friends

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וְהַרְחִיקֵֽנוּ מֵאָדָם רָע וּמֵחָבֵר רָע

Keep us away from malicious tongues  and fawning friends

Many of us, and especially those who have made a commitment to following a spiritual path within community,  are aware of the need for a balanced regimen of love  and reproof  from our companions. Without it, focus becomes blurred, alignments are bent crooked, and self-deception reigns unchecked.

Such love and reproof are not free-form activities, but Torah-sanctioned instructions whose fulfillment is informed by subtle rules, by courtesy and by respect. Rebuke, no matter how precise, is rarely heeded if its source is not trustworthy;  deserved praise that becomes fulsome may sink into flattery, surely one of the more mischievous potions that humanity has ever concocted.

Help us, H’, to keep good company.