The Holy Work of Our Hands
By: Rabbi Sara Mason-Barkin
Tags: Vaccines, Prayer, Covid Diaries, God, Jewish

We are the makers of miracles, and our hands will heal the world.

Following every noisy meal at every Jewish summer camp, whether chicken nuggets or grilled cheese, everyone in the Chadar Ochel (the dining hall) participates in an obligatory round of Birkat HaMazon (the blessing after the meal). For those who haven’t heard it, it’s a long prayer — chanted in a leisurely way (or, in some circles, davened silently) with full bellies and happy hearts. The idea is that there is time to truly appreciate the holy process of eating and being satisfied once the meal has been enjoyed.

And, as anyone who has spent time at Jewish camp knows, the prayer — which is quite catchy — has accumulated its own universe of ‘shtick.’ Each camp has it’s own choreographed table thumping and questionably appropriate word modifications. Which means that at least once each year one of the adults will stop the prayer in the middle to remind the enthusiastic campers:

“This is a prayer, and we need to treat it like one! No more table banging, no more “sour cream” or “whoop do doo” … can we please focus on the meaning of what these words really mean!”

Prayers are meant to be offered with reverence — not shtick.

Birkat HaMazon, as sung at URJ Camp Harlam

My husband, Josh, had a different Jewish camp experience. He grew up in Habonim Dror, a Labor Zionist youth movement. And at his camp, Camp Gilboa, they didn’t say Birkat HaMazon. Instead, they sang a version of the “Song of Toil and Labor,” by Chaim Nachman Bialik, pioneer of modern Hebrew poetry.

It reads,

Mi Yatzileinu Meira’av? Who will save us from our hunger?

Mi ya’achileinu lechem rav? Who will feed us bread?

U’mi ya’shkeinu kos chalav? And who will give us a glass of milk to drink?

L’mi todah, l’mi bracha? Whom to thank, whom to bless?

La’avodah v’lamlacha! The Toil and the Labor!

In other words, who deserves the thanks and praise? Not God specifically, but rather, the human hands who did the work to grow, and prepare, and serve the food.

Labor Zionism is a Jewish movement; however, the ideological focus is on human participation instead of Jewish practice. Don’t worry — Josh assures me the poem was still recited with plenty of shtick. Because camp is still camp, after all.

But is a prayer still a prayer, with or without invoking God?

Is a blessing still a blessing?

What makes an expression of gratitude a religious act, and what makes a song sung with ruach and intention more than a song?

In this week’s parashah, Miketz, we continue with the story of Joseph. And yes, it is a story — a chapter book, even. It’s been made into a movie, and a musical. I myself played a stalk of corn in the acclaimed summer of 1993 production at Camp Arowhon (where we didn’t say Birkat HaMazon, but we did say ‘Rub a dub dub, thanks for the grub’). The story of Joseph is a great show, and, it’s great Torah. But God is not a prominent character. God doesn’t even get a speaking part: not in the screen version, not in the stage version… not even in the scroll version.

Donny Osmond in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat

© UPHE Content Group

In Parashat Miketz Joseph sees his brothers again after many years.

They don’t recognize him.

He has a new title, a new wife, a new name, new clothes — he looks exactly like the person he is now: a part of the Egyptian court. He barely resembles the brother that they abandoned so many years ago. And, not only have the outer trappings of his life changed — but he has taken control of his destiny in a way that the brothers would never recognize. He is no longer the pesky little boy bragging about his coat, unable to rescue himself from a pit — he is a man now, who pulled himself out of jail by the power of his talents, his relationships, and his grit.

It’s not so different from how most of us exist in the world today.

We are a lot like Joseph. We wear the clothes of our surrounding culture and have the same names as our neighbors. Our biblical brothers would barely recognize us! Like Joseph, we are a part of the culture.

We help drive the economy and participate in the process of government.

We are attorneys and clients and doctors and patients.

We are cashiers and customers, teachers and students.

We are scientists and epidemiologists, working alongside other experts to cure disease and stop the spread of this current pandemic.

We worry the same worries as our neighbors.

We struggle the same struggles, and we, too, like Joseph, help to fix the problems of our world.

We are similar to the Labor Zionists. We too praise the toil and the labor. We are the toil and the labor! God’s participation in our day to day as ‘regular’ Americans is not always obvious. But we know our own efforts very, very well.

And yet.

When Joseph sees his siblings again, he remembers who he was.

He remembers who he has always been.

And when he finally lays eyes on his precious younger brother, Benjamin, he exclaims these words of blessing:

אֱלֹהִ֥ים יָחְנְךָ֖ בְּנִֽי

Elohim yach’n’cha, b’ni

may God be gracious to you, my boy (Gen 43:29)

Rabbi Isaiah Rothstein describes blessings as a “portal to the Infinite.” Blessings are words that call God close. Through this blessing, Joseph draws out what has so far been hidden: it is a hope, or perhaps, a desire to lift up the holiness of this reunion. Joseph offers his little brother this spontaneous prayer:

That God will be gracious to him.

That God will be present for him.

That God will be a part of his journey.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks (z”l) explains Joseph’s deeply felt connection to Divine partnership:

“We and God are co-authors of the human story. Without our efforts we can achieve nothing. But without God’s help we can achieve nothing either. Judaism found a simple way of resolving the paradox. For the bad we do, we take responsibility. For the good we achieve, we thank God. Joseph is our mentor. When he is forced to act harshly, he weeps. But when he tells his brothers of his success, he attributes it to God. That is how we too should live.”

This is to say: it is not toil and labor or gratitude to God. Each form of blessing is reliant on the other. We are grateful to God for the human ability to toil and labor, and without our toil and labor God’s gifts are useless. This is holy partnership.

In the months ahead, we will continue this long, long stretch of virtual community, careful socializing and sanitized living. We will continue to appreciate the silver linings, like extra time with family, more unstructured hours, regular wearing of sweatpants and slippers.

In the early days, these were the blessings that kept us grounded. But now, the light at the end of the tunnel is growing brighter. It is harder to focus on those smaller gratitudes, because we are hopeful that the big, miraculous shift is almost within our reach.

This week the first group of health care workers received the Pfizer COVID-19 vaccine. Images of smiling faces, grateful for this inoculation fill our papers and our screens. The air surges with excitement. Conversations about a return to something resembling normal are tinged with Norah, or awe, — that specific kind of excitement that is also a kind of fear.

Physician Alister Martin receives one of the first doses of the Pfizer-BioNTech coronavirus vaccine from RN Jennifer Lisciotti at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston, Massachusetts, December 16, 2020. Craig F. Walker/Pool via REUTERS

And because we, like Joseph, live in the space between the holy and the profane, we understand that the promise of a vaccine is a product of Godly partnership. The foundation of the world shifted beneath our feet back in March, and with this new development the fissures are slowly, hopefully, carefully beginning to heal.

How grateful we are: for the toil and the labor. The endless hours, the long days and longer nights of human exertion that have brought us to this moment.

How grateful we are: for the divine intelligence that guides those human hands.

How grateful we are: for this sacred gift.

The time will come for each of us when we have the chance to receive the vaccine for COVID-19. Let’s imagine ourselves as a portal to the infinite, rolling up a shirt sleeve, and bracing ourselves to receive this miracle of science and spirit:

Blessing composed by Rabbi Sara Mason-Barkin and Jason Bronowitz

Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Supreme Power of the universe:

Creative Partner, who gifts the human mind with intelligence to choose life, perseverance to do the impossible, wisdom to vaccinate, and hope to heal the world.

Rabbi Sara Mason-Barkin

Parashat Miketz, December 18th, 2020

Congregation Beth Israel, Scottsdale Arizona