by Rabbi Yisrael Rutman

A blessing is a wonderful thing. Everyone is for it. We bless our children at the beginning of Shabbat, upon returning home from evening prayers. The kohanim bless the congregation (in Israel every morning, in the Diaspora on festivals). People go to tsadikim (holy individuals) to receive their blessings. Indeed, anyone can give a blessing to anyone else, as the Talmud says, “Let not the blessing of an ordinary person be light in your eyes.” It’s almost worth sneezing so they’ll say “Bless you.”

But, as in everything else in Judaism, it’s not so simple. There are rules for blessings: To begin with, not while you’re naked, and not in the bathroom. For the priestly blessing, the kohein washes his hands first (or the Leviim wash them for him) and removes his shoes, then waits for the window of opportunity during the shaliach tsibur’s repetition of Shmoneh Esrei. On Friday night, the parent customarily places his hands on the children’s heads while reciting the blessing.

While reciting the blessing. That is the part that not everyone is in favor of. Because traditionally the blessing to recite is in Hebrew, a language which is not so familiar to every Jew. For that reason, there are those who advocate the recitation of blessings in English, or whatever language is comfortable for you. User-friendly Judaism. Although, it is true that the halacha permits one to say a blessing in languages other than Hebrew (providing you understand what you’re saying), it’s only meant as a stopgap, until you can learn the language, at least enough to say the brocho (blessing) in the Holy Tongue.

What is forbidden is to alter the form of the blessing. When the Men of the Great Assembly composed the blessings that appear to the present day in traditional siddurim (prayerbooks), they meant every word of it. True, they lived a long time ago, long before the horseless carriage and the wireless, so they didn’t know about the kind of world we’d be living in, but that does not mean that their blessings are automatically obsolete. On the contrary. Among that famous group, which held forth at the beginning of the Second Temple era (approximately 350 BCE), were prophets and sages, who knew far more than we do about God and man, neither of which changed in the centuries since then. It is a fundamental of Judaism that God is by definition immutable; and though man and society may change outwardly, he is essentially the same as always, with the same mixture of good and evil, intelligence and stupidity, blessing and curse. So the blessings, which are designed (to make a long story short) to enhance man’s awareness of the existence of God and man’s relationship to Him (usually somewhat shaky), address a more or less constant need. For example, the blessing on food said after a meal, which is intended to remind us of the Creator who provided that food, never ceases to be relevant, because we always need reminding, even the most religious folks.

The Sages also knew more about Hebrew than we do. They studied its revealed and hidden (kabalistic) meanings, and were intimately acquainted with the language. They understood how to combine the words in such a way as to elicit from them the greatest possible life-giving power. In order to get maximum benefit, though (and to avoid backfires), one has to follow the text they authorized. It’s something like a computer language: If you learn the language and use it properly, it works; but if you start messing with it, you won’t get the desired results. Just one little period out of place, and you know what happens—nothing. Don’t think the blessings are any less sophisticated. Especially if you don’t even know Hebrew.

The Sages refer to the language of blessings by the Hebrew word matbeah. This is interesting, because the word matbeah usually means a minted coin. What is the connection between the benedictive text and coinage?

First, we could say that a blessing is like a coin in the sense that even though it may be small, it has value, sometimes great value. Most of the blessings are just a few words, but the effects are cosmic. Secondly, though coins may have intrinsic value, if the owner is ignorant of it, and thinks it’s just a useless piece of metal, a slug, then it’s of no value to him. He’ll toss it aside and take the goat skin instead. Blessings are also like that; if they go unsaid or mangled, their value is lost or diminished.

After the Sin of the Golden Calf, the Torah commanded that each person donate a half-shekel to the Mishkan, the sanctuary in the wilderness. It was a kind of atonement for their lives, which had been forfeited in that unfortunate episode. A full explanation of the meaning of it is beyond the scope of this essay, but one thing concerns us here: The Sages say that Moses had difficulty with the Divine instruction. Just how could a little coin rectify the terrible sin that had been committed? In answer, God showed Moses a fiery coin, that is what they had to give. In other words, if they would give even a small thing to the national mission of serving God, it would accomplish the purpose—providing it was given with fire, with passionate devotion. God already has everything He needs; all that we human beings can do anyway is to make a gesture of our faith. But it has to be a quality gesture.

Perhaps that too is why the Sages refer to the language of blessing as matbeah. It alludes to the fiery coin. If we say our blessings with genuine feeling, and not by rote, they can accomplish great things.

So it is said about the Baal Shem Tov, the founder of Chasidism, who once appeared to his son in a dream all on fire, saying, “This is how I served God.”

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2. Emmanuel:Sephardim and Ashkenazim
3. Goodbye, George Carlin
4. The Light of the Fourteenth
5. As Others See Us