Rabbi Charles P. Sherman
November 26, 2004
Let's Talk Turkey
A very creative and articulate colleague of blessed memory, Rabbi Sidney Greenberg, wrote a weekly article on religion in the Philadelphia Inquirer. A few years ago he told a story of how the son of the President of Cypress was kidnaped. The kidnappers threatened to kill the young man if certain political prisoners were not released. The President refused and, after four very tense days, his son was released unharmed. As he arrived home, his mother rushed out, embraced him, and declared: "This is the happiest day of my life!"
Rabbi Greenberg asked: "Why should this be so? What did she have that day that she did not have five days before?" Of course, we understand that this mother now realized the value of something she had long taken for granted and then almost lost. Only when she faced the abyss, when she realized that she might never see her son again, did she realize how crucially important he was to her.
You remember the saying popular some years back about how someone complained about their lack of shoes, until they saw someone who had no legs. We take so many things for granted – hearts that beat, eyes that see, ears that hear; and other parts of our bodies that work every day, 24 hours a day, from the moment that we are born until we die – often in spite of our lack of support for them and in spite of the abuse to which we often subject them. Only after one of them fails or begins to falter do we suddenly realize how important it is to us.
Those of us who have undergone open-heart surgery and are, in a sense, living with a gift of time bestowed by modern medicine suddenly appreciate the natural marvels which keep us alive and functional. Like the First Lady of Cypress, we really learn to appreciate that which we almost lost.
I chose to title my sermon for this Thanksgiving weekend "Let's Talk Turkey." It was more than a desire to turn a cleaver pun. I wanted to convey through this title my intention to get down to basics, tachlis, what we used to call "brass tacks."
We would all agree that gratitude is an important human quality and that we are often not as appreciative of the many blessings which are ours as we should be. But our Jewish tradition is very direct, candid, realistic. Judaism tries to make us aware of the precarious nature of life and to be grateful for even what might seem the smallest of blessings. A number of years ago, we introduced the Meeshebayrach prayer into our Shabbat Eve liturgy and it has become, I think, one of the most meaningful segments of our worship service. For a few moments, we direct our thoughts to those of our friends and relatives who are ill. We acknowledge that while both physical and spiritual healing ultimately come from God, yet we humans have a significant role to play in bringing healing and comfort to people who are sick and in need of our attention and care.
Tonight I would like to introduce, or re-introduce, you to a Jewish prayer which is even more basic than the Meeshebayrach. Traditionally, Jews were to recite this prayer soon after we got out of bed, immediately following our trip to the bathroom. The prayer is called "Asher Yatzar." Even more than the Meeshebayrach, this prayer forces us to realize our dependence on God and the wonder of our physical functions – not when we lose them or are in danger of losing them, or when they are temporarily not functioning – but when they function, every day.
This prayer uses blunt and plain language about our body parts and their openings. It confronts us with the simple truth that, if it were not for the daily exercise of heeding nature's call, our life would be filled with misery and agony. This is a prayer about something so mundane and ordinary that we very seldom stop to think about it. Indeed, it is only when we have prostate or urinary problems, when our digestive system causes us pain or embarrassment, that we realize what a miracle something so simple as going to the bathroom can be.
This is one of the amazing things about Judaism. It regards religion not as an elevated, ethereal experience but rather urges us to imbue our every day experiences with spiritual meaning and purpose. This is illustrated by an essay which appeared in the Journal of the American Medical Association several years ago. Written by Dr. Kenneth M. Prager, it is entitled "For Everything a Blessing." I share this awesome story with you as an example of what I believe Thanksgiving is supposed to be about. Dr. Prager begins:
"When I was an elementary school student in Yeshiva – a Jewish parochial school with both religious and secular studies – my classmates and I used to find amusing a sign that was posted just outside the bathroom. It was an ancient Jewish blessing, commonly referred to as the Asher Yatzar benediction, that was supposed to be recited after one relieved himself.
"For grade school children, there could be nothing more strange or ridiculous than to link the acts of urination and defecation with holy words that mentioned God's name. Blessings were reserved for prayers, for holy days, or for thanking God for food or for some act of deliverance, but surely not for a bodily function that evoked smirks and giggles. It took me several decades to realize the wisdom that lay behind this blessing that was composed by Abayei, a fourth-century Babylonian rabbi.
Abayei's blessing is contained in the Talmud . . . The Jewish religion is chock-full of these blessings . . . In fact, an entire tractate of Talmud, 128 pages in length, is devoted to brachot. (The traditional siddur captures the blessing as it appears on your hand-out sheet, the Hebrew and then the translation, and I'll give you a slightly more literal translation. Then you can see how we have used it in Gates of Prayer, our current siddur; and how this blessing also appears in Mishkan Tefilah, the new prayerbook our Movement is in the process of preparing.)
On page 120 (Brachot 60b) of the Talmudic text it is written: ‘Abayei said, when one comes out of a privy he should say: Blessed is God who has formed man in wisdom and created in him many orifices and many cavities. It is obvious and known before Your throne of glory that if one of them were ruptured or one of them blocked, it would be impossible for a man to survive and stand before You. Blessed are You that heals all flesh and does wonders.'
"An observant Jew is supposed to recite this blessing in Hebrew after each visit to the bathroom. We young Yeshiva students were reminded of our obligation to recite this prayer by the signs that contained its text and which were posted just outside the restroom doors. It is one thing, however, to post these signs and it is quite another to realistically expect pre-adolescents to have the maturity to realize the wisdom of and need for reciting a 1600-year-old blessing related to bodily functions."
Prager continues: "It was not until my second year of medical school that I first began to understand the appropriateness of this short prayer.
"Pathophysiology brought home to me the terrible consequences of even minor aberrations in the structure and function of the human body. At the very least, I began to no longer take for granted the normalcy of my trips to the bathroom. Instead, I started to realize how many things had to operate just right for these minor interruptions of my daily routine to run smoothly. I thought of Abayei and his blessing. I recalled my days at Yeshiva and remembered how silly that sign outside the bathroom had seemed. But after seeing patients whose lives revolved around their dialysis machines, and others with colostomies and urinary catheters, I realized how wise the rabbi had been.
"And then it happened: I began to recite Abayei's bracha. At first I had to go back to my siddur . . . to get the text right. With repetition. . . I could recite it fluently and with sincerity and understanding. Over the years, reciting the Asher Yatzar has become for me an opportunity to offer thanks not just for the proper functioning of my excretory organs, but for my overall good health. The text, after all, refers to catastrophic consequences of the rupture or obstruction of any bodily structure, not only those of the urinary or gastrointestinal tract.
"Could Abayei, for example, have foreseen that ‘blockage' of the ‘cavity,' or lumen, of the coronary artery would lead to the commonest cause of death in industrialized countries some 16 centuries later? I have often wondered if other people also yearn for some way to express gratitude for their good health. Physicians especially, who are exposed daily to the ravages that illness can wreak, must sometimes feel the need to express thanks for being well and thus well-being. Perhaps a generic, nondenominational Asher Yatzar could be composed for those who want to verbalize their gratitude for being blessed with good health.
Dr. Prager then shares an incredible story: "There was one unforgettable patient whose story reinforced the truth and beauty of the Asher Yatzar for me forever. Josh was a 20-year-old student who sustained an unstable fracture of his third and fourth cervical vertebrae in a motor vehicle crash. He nearly died from his injury and required emergency intubation and ventilatory support. He was initially totally quadriplegic but for weak flexion of his right biceps. A long and difficult period of stabilization and rehabilitation followed. There were promising signs of neurological recovery over the first few months that came suddenly and unexpectedly; movement of a finger here, flexion of a toe there, return of sensation here, adduction of a muscle group there. With incredible courage, hard work, and an excellent physical therapist, Josh improved day by day.
"In time, and after what seemed like a miracle, he was able to walk slowly with a leg brace and a cane. But Josh continued to require intermittent catheterization." Dr. Prager knew only too well the problems and perils this young man would face for the rest of his life because of a neurogenic bladder.
"The urologists were very pessimistic about his chances for not requiring catheterization. They had not seen this occur after a spinal cord injury of this severity."
Then the impossible happened. In Prager's own words: "I was there the day Josh no longer required a urinary catheter. I thought of Abayei's Asher Yatzar prayer. Pointing out that I could not imagine a more meaningful scenario for its recitation, I suggested to Josh, who was also a Yeshiva graduate, that he say the prayer. He agreed." As he recited the ancient bracha, Dr. Prager reports – "tears welled in my eyes. Josh is my son."
While we may not have a child who has faced such extraordinary medical challenges, each of us is a human being with veins, arteries, and vital organs that have been woven into a finely balanced network. For that reason alone it is our responsibility to keep our perspective on the miracles which occur daily in our physical lives. As a church announcement board reminds us: Thanksgiving is not a day. It is a way of life.
On this Thanksgiving weekend, may we resolve to begin each day by giving thanks – perhaps one of the forms of the Asher Yatzar that you have in front of you, all or part of a prayer I have placed toward the bottom of the page: Help us, O God, to make each day in some way an occasion for celebration. Help us to rejoice in what we have; open our eyes to the blessings we already have in hand. Teach us to draw a full measure of joy from what we have, before we turn to seek what eludes us. This morning, the sun rose; the earth gave up its bounty. Our hearts – our grateful hearts – kept beating. Thank You God, for our here-ness.
Or, if our day is so busy that we only have time for a quickie. Zeh hayom asa Adonai – This day God made. Nagila v'nis-m'cha bo – let me rejoice and be happy in it. Amen
I am sincerely grateful to Rabbi Gilbert Kollin and especially to Rabbi Norman M. Cohen for helping me teach this important lesson.
