Well here we are. For the second time since we began this show a little over two years ago, we’re interrupting our regular schedule because of war. We’ll get back to our series on interpersonal mitzvot soon—next week, I hope—but the team and I thought it was important to offer something different in the wake of the escalating war between Israel and Iran.
First of all, if you’re listening in Israel—as many of my family and friends are—please know that we see you and are praying for your safety. If you’re listening in a safe room or a bomb shelter, please know that you’re not alone. There are a lot of people who care about you. I’m one of them.
It’s early, of course, but one of the things that already makes this war different for many people is that it’s not new—it’s coming on top of a war that’s been going on for over 18 months. So there’s this exhaustion factor. This morning I saw the headline of a column in the Times of Israel that said, “I’m tired of living through history.” War is hell, war is exhausting. For people on the receiving end of bombs and missiles—no matter what side of which border they live on—it’s terrifying and traumatizing. Where I live outside Chicago it’s enough that we have to deal with fireworks the whole week of July 4—that keep us awake and scare the dog. But I’m not worried my house is going to collapse in rubble. Try imagining that, not only on July 4, but night after night for years. There aren’t words for it.
For those of us who aren’t directly in harm’s way, there are, perhaps, other struggles. We might be holding fear and concern for friends and loved ones. We could be struggling with feelings of guilt—how come they’re in bomb shelters and I’m not? We could be navigating a complex web: to quote the Washington Post, “hope and hopelessness; celebration and trepidation.” (That’s how the newspaper described the mood among the Iranian public in the wake of the Israeli attacks on their regime: ‘hope and hopelessness; celebration and trepidation.’ Quite a reminder that human emotions are more universal than we sometimes want to think.)
Now I’m not going to pretend that Jewish mindfulness practice is the antidote for trauma as it’s happening. Frankly, I’m neither a trained mental health professional nor the level of Jedi master it would take to pull that off. But I do think that one of the foundational lessons of all mindfulness practice can help, and that’s simply to recognize “this is how it is right now.” Yes, we wish for things to be different. But right now, it’s like this. And if we can just be with that reality in the moment, that can at least make the burden a little lighter.
During our first special episode after October 7, I shared a blessing practice that we’ve done a couple of other times. It’s drawn from the priestly blessing that’s written in the Torah and that is still recited in synagogues and Jewish homes today. And I think it’s still one of the most helpful things for times like this. So here we go.
If you can, begin by sitting in a dignified and upright position. Not rigid, but not slouched. Allow your body to arrive. Soften your gaze or close your eyes. Allow your awareness to come to rest on your breath.
Now we’re going to do the blessing practice. There are three lines, and we’re going to recite them four times—once for yourself, once for someone close to you, once for an acquaintance, and once for a stranger. Try actually saying the words out loud. And you might try bringing your hands together over your heart.
Here’s the first line:
Yivarcheni Adonai V’yishmereini, May the Divine bless me and keep me safe.
Sit with this line for a moment. See if you can sense energy and support–from the chair you’re sitting in, from the firm ground that holds you up, from the people and beings supporting you right now. Sit in that sensation for a minute. Even in moments when things feel unsafe, we can experience ways in which safety and support are present.
Then, the second line:
Yaer Adonai panav elai v’yichuneni, May the Holy One’s countenance shine graciously upon me.
Can you find a sense of radiance that’s emerging–either from outside you or from within? Try imagining a small flame flickering in your heart, a holy spark within you, gradually illuminating your chest, your body, your face. What do you notice? What do you feel? There’s no right answer. Just notice it.
And then the third line:
Yisa Adonai panav elai v’yasem li shalom, May the face of the Creator be turned toward me and grant me peace.
As that light within spreads, can you also sense a kind of warmth, an embrace–capable of holding all your conflicting emotions? Can you imagine it almost giving you a hug? Again, even in moments when, externally, we may not feel a sense of peace, perhaps there is an internal kind of peacefulness we can tap into–a wholeness that accepts and embraces us just as we are. This is shalom, peacefulness. Dwell in that for a moment.
You might try saying them again, and perhaps a third time. There’s no rush. Allow yourself to experience this sensation of blessing. Make a note of what it feels like–there’s no right way to feel, no way it’s supposed to be. Whatever is happening for you is your experience, and it’s just fine.
Now, we’re going to turn this practice one rung outward. Bring to mind someone you want to offer this blessing to: a friend, a partner, a parent, a child, a loved one.
Yivarchecha Adonai V’yishmerecha, May the Divine bless you and keep you safe.
That sensation of safety and support you felt before? Channel that towards the person in your mind. May they be safe. May they be supported. May they be blessed.
Yaer Adonai panav elecha v’yichuneneka, May the Holy One’s countenance shine graciously upon you.
Recall the sensation of radiance you felt a moment ago. Now, direct that radiance toward the person you’re thinking of. Imagine casting warmth and light toward them.
Yisa Adonai panav elekha v’yasem lekha shalom, May the face of the Creator be turned toward you and grant you peace.
Tap into that sensation of wholeness, peace–and extend that out towards this other person. Be a vessel for this Divine blessing.
Next we’re going to offer a blessing to an acquaintance: Someone you know, but that you’re not close with. Bring that person to mind.
Yivarchecha Adonai V’yishmerecha, May the Divine bless you and keep you safe.
Yaer Adonai panav elecha v’yichuneneka, May the Holy One’s countenance shine graciously upon you.
Yisa Adonai panav elekha v’yasem lekha shalom, May the face of the Creator be turned toward you and grant you peace.
And finally, we’re going to offer this blessing to a stranger. Perhaps someone else who lives in your community or your country; maybe even someone across a border who’s also trying to manage their own fear and suffering.
Yivarchecha Adonai V’yishmerecha, May the Divine bless you and keep you safe.
Yaer Adonai panav elecha v’yichuneneka, May the Holy One’s countenance shine graciously upon you.
Yisa Adonai panav elekha v’yasem lekha shalom, May the face of the Creator be turned toward you and grant you peace.
Check in with yourself: How do you feel? Hopefully a little bit calmer, a little more centered, a little more connected. This isn’t a magic wand that takes away pain and suffering–it’s a practice that helps us meet pain and suffering with lovingkindness and compassion. I hope it’s helpful to you, and I hope that it can bring about a bit of healing for you, for the Jewish people, and for the world.
Blessings for the journey. Know that I’m on it with you.