From the Bima Blog

Many believe that Birkat Kohanim, the priestly blessing, is one of Judaism’s oldest prayers. We definitely know that the practice of reciting these words is ancient, as the words and ritual are provided in this week’s Torah portion, Naso. 

I truly love this prayer and the sacred moments it provides when I am privileged to offer it for someone. I believe these words with my whole heart and soul. When I ask God for God’s blessing upon someone, I believe that the Divine Source of the Universe is somehow listening. And I hope that the person receiving the blessing can really take the words in – that they can hear and absorb God’s blessing of peace and connection.

I am reaching for those words of blessing this week. I suspect I have been reaching for those words of peace and connection, of safety and love for weeks, maybe months. Because the darkness and challenge of being Jewish today is real. And blessings are hard to find when one is weary and in real pain. I know that so many of you are feeling this too. We are distraught and concerned. And increasingly fearful that these hateful acts of anti-Semitism continue to happen in communities so much like our own.

Gatherings like the one in Boulder on Sunday, gatherings of people who care, and who are concerned about their fellow humans, that call for a release of the hostages or for a ceasefire or for a peaceful path for all of humanity, are not supposed to end in violence and terrorism. Harming each other is not a way forward. Words like “Globalize the intifada” and “From the river to the sea” will not bring us together. These words are designed to incite hatred and fear. They give literal ammunition to those who are convinced that killing and harming Jews will make the world better. They are wrong. And those who chant these words in the hopes that they will come to fruition should be held accountable. 

I grew up with a grandparent who escaped, just in the nick of time, the horror that was Nazi Germany. She rarely spoke about her early years in Germany, when simply being Jewish or different in any way meant deliberate persecution and mass murder. I never imagined I would live in a world where the fear and pain she must have felt could be so close at hand again. But Ellen did not shy away from telling the truth. And teaching me to tell my truth and to believe in myself. She was a proud Jewish woman, not naïve but also unwilling to hide. She believed in family and community and that everyone deserves a place in the world. She was generous and loving and real. And she was – and always will be – a blessing in my life. 

My grandmother, Ellen, would want us to be strong. To fight back with kindness and love. To not hide in the shadows. To speak our truth. To be proud. And to bless one another with peace. So, in her memory, I share these ancient words of blessing. Please, Oh God, let us feel them and know them in our hearts and souls today – and always.

May God bless us and keep us.
May God shine upon us and be gracious to us.
May God turn towards us, and grant us the precious gift of Shalom, of peace.

Kein yihi ratzon. May this be God’s will.

With peace and strength,
Rabbi Laura Abrasley

p.s. I hope you will consider coming to services this Friday night and perhaps staying for
the adult dinner afterwards. We truly need community and one another right now.