November 29th: Toldot
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
Our usual focus in this Torah portion is the birth and rivalry of the twins, Esau and Jacob. Who is really elder? Who deserves to be leader? Is Isaac really fooled by the clumsy disguise routine? And is a blessing given under false pretenses valid?
This year, however, I would like to go back a bit in the story to the twenty years of infertility suffered by Rebekah and Isaac—the infertility and the praying that preceded and accompanied Rebekah’s eventual pregnancy.
“Isaac was forty years old when he took to wife Rebekah, daughter of Bethuel the Aramean of Paddan-aram, sister of Laban the Aramean. Isaac pleaded with the Lord on behalf of his wife, because she was barren; and the Lord responded to his plea, and his wife Rebekah conceived…Isaac was sixty years old when they (Jacob and Esau) were born.” (Genesis 25.20-26)
So, after a very long wait, Rebekah gets pregnant. The couple’s prayers seem to be answered, but the pregnancy is difficult, and Rebekah prays to God for relief. Once again, God responds to her prayers—explaining that the rumbling in her abdomen is the struggling of her future twins.
When I was growing up and in the early years of my rabbinate, I do not remember any formalized healing prayers in the Reform movement—not in the Union Prayer Book (1940) or in Gates of Prayer (1975). I do not doubt that people prayed their own prayers when they or a loved one was ill, but I do not remember any formalized prayers in Reform worship services.
Conservative and Orthodox services had healing prayers, but they were short, cursory, and side events in a very busy Torah service. One of several Mi Sheberach’s was for the Cholim (ill). The leader would ask for names of the Cholim, repeat them aloud, and then chant (in Hebrew):
“May He Who blessed our forefathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, Moses and Aaron, David and Solomon, bless and heal _______ because _________will contribute to charity on his/her behalf. In reward for this tzedakah, may the Holy One, Blessed be He, be filled with compassion and restore his/her health, healing him/her, strengthening him/her and revivifying him/her. May He send speedily a complete recovery from heaven for all 248 organs and all 365 blood vessels, along with the other sick people of Israel, a recovery of the body and a recovery of the spirit, swiftly and soon. Let us say: Amen.”
The thing that always struck me about this Mi Sheberach is how unspiritual it is. Though the words ask for healing—and though the people who ask for the healing presumably really want it, the public prayer always seems very administrative or secretarial: “Let’s get this person’s name on the list for healing.” It did not seem to me, in other words, a very spiritual supplication.
This all began to change in the 1980s, and, for many of us, the notion of a spiritually moving prayer for healing can be traced to Debbie Friedman’s 1988 composition, Mi Sheberach.
Mi sheberach avotaynu, M’kor Hab’rachah l’imotaynu,
May the Source of strength Who blessed the ones before us
help us find the courage to make our lives a blessing, and let us say Amen.
Mi sheberach imotaynu, M’kor Hab’rachah la’avotaynu,
Bless those in need of healing with refu’ah sh’lemah,
the renewal of body, the renewal of spirit, and let us say Amen.
Co-written with Rabbi Drorah Setel, the prayer song brought to the wider world the work of feminist and neo-Hassidic thinkers who sought to infuse Jewish spirituality into the healing process. Though formal and congregational worship addressed general life issues, some felt that Jewish prayer services could and should provide assistance to Jews in more personal situations.
Physical healing was one personal situation addressed, but there were others. As these thinkers considered other difficult personal moments in life—moments like miscarriage or divorce, they wrote prayers and rituals for them as well. “Judaism” has always “cared” about such times, but the traditional liturgy had no functional way to address them. In the case of miscarriage, there is no body to bury, and, because life has not yet begun, the usual memorial prayers do not seem to fit. In the case of divorce, there is the traditional Get ceremony, but it only nullifies the marriage halachically (legally) and does not deal with the emotions of such an event (either sad or happy). Such personal situations were relegated to the realm of friendship and family support, but some Jewish feminists and early women rabbis realized that such personal problems also need to be addressed liturgically. Cannot our dear religion that speaks of our deepest existential concerns somehow help us through difficulties that are deeply personal?
The result of this sensitive thinking was the formulation of a number of prayers and creative rituals that bring God and spirituality into such sensitive rites de passage in Jews’ lives.
Among them is Friedman’s and Setel’s healing prayer song. Fashioned in the world of feminist sensitivity and experience, it uses traditional wording as well as an awareness of chronic illness, disability, and terminal illness. Legend has it that Debbie Friedman’s own journey through chronic illness influenced and fueled her insights:
“Help us find the courage to make our lives a blessing...
Bless those in need of healing with Refu’ah Sh’lemah:
the renewal of body, the renewal of spirit.”
We need God at every moment of life—in both moments of happiness and moments of crisis. The job of a religion (and its liturgists) is to help us feel God’s Presence, and the success and universal appeal of this song testify to its relevance and usefulness as we yearn for God’s companionship and blessings in life’s difficult moments.
We shall continue this discussion of faith and healing next week, in Parshat Vayetze, and address two questions:
(1) How does praying affect the healing process?
(2) How do we evaluate or enhance the sincerity of our Mi Sheberach prayers?