9/11, 7/7, 121

 

R. Yaakov Bieler

Parshat Chukat, 5765

 

This past week in London, terrorists provided us with yet another date to remember and by which to acknowledge the fragility of human life in the modern “civilized” world. First there was 9/11; now there is 7/7. While we all fervently hope that other incidents will not follow, experts repeatedly inform us that the issue of future terrorism is not a matter of “if”, but rather “when”, “where” and “how destructive”.[1]

 

Ever since the beginning of the second Palestinian Intifada, which has seen a significant increase in the dangers from terrorism faced by our brothers and sisters living in Israel, KMS has been reciting Tehilla 121. Although we have been careful to state in our introductions prior to collectively reading the Tehilla that we should try to have in mind not only those in Israel, but also everyone engaged in security and military operations, those regularly facing the threat of some form of terror, and even the unfortunate peoples who have been made the targets of genocide, some members of the congregation have expressed discomfort regarding our continuing to read the Tehilla at the end of our formal prayers. Some feel that since Palestinian violence has deescalated and there is a general impression that Israeli citizens are currently less threatened than they have been in the recent past, we should no longer add the Psalm. Then there are those who worry that the recitation of the Tehilla has become too commonplace and that rather than serving as an impassioned prayer at a time of danger, too many congregants are saying the words mechanically, without passion and conviction. Still others express the reservation that once we are already regularly reciting Tehillim every day, what will we do if something “really terrible” were to take place?

 

In light of such questions, it is altogether appropriate to carefully and reflectively revisit this Tehilla in the interests of gaining a better understanding of the words and sentiments contained therein, and thereby hopefully renew our ability to be moved by its recitation and allay some if not all of the concerns cited above.

 

Tehilla 121

(1) A song to the ascents. I raise my eyes to the mountains. From where will come my help?

(2) My help is from HaShem, Maker of the heavens and the earth.

(3) He will not Allow your foot to stumble; your Guardian will not Slumber.

(4) He neither Slumbers nor Sleeps—the Guardian of Israel.

(5) HaShem is your Guardian; HaShem is your Shadow at your right hand.

(6) By day, the sun will not harm you; nor the moon at night.[2]

(7) HaShem will Protect you from every evil; He will Guard your soul

(8) HaShem will Protect your goings out and your comings in, from this time and forever.

 

Amos Chacham, in his commentary on Tehillim which comprises part of the Da’at Mikra series, parses this Tehilla in a manner that suggests a give-and-take between an individual who is about to set out upon a journey, v. 1-2, 4 and another who is giving him/her a blessing and reassurance that s/he will be safe wherever s/he may go, v. 3, 5-8. Consequently, verses 1-2 are tantamount to the journeyer expressing a hope and a prayer, but nevertheless still beset with considerable trepidation regarding what s/he might encounter on the way. Verses 3, 5-8 are  encouragements offered by the person remaining behind in order to allay the soon-to-be traveler’s fears. Verse 4 indicates a tentative increase in optimistic hope on the part of the individual about to embark, which is then further reinforced by the second party’s invoking additional blessings for a successful and safe trip. Considering this commentator’s understanding of the Tehilla, since we often occupy one or the other of the roles of traveler and encourager, Psalm 121 can simultaneously apply to both ourselves as well as others. The Tehilla in effect urges us to face life with confidence that HaShem will Protect us, as well as emphasizes the importance of conveying such sentiments and prayers on behalf of others who may be apprehensive before undertaking adventures that could expose them to danger.

 

In light of the central theme within Tehillim 121 of HaShem’s Protection, it is not surprising that two of this Psalm’s verses play a role in Talmudic discussions concerning the Commandment of placing a Mezuza upon one’s doorposts.

 

Menachot 33b

Said R. Chanina: Come and see that the Holy One, Blessed be He’s Way of Doing things is fundamentally different from that of flesh and blood.

The human leader sits within (a protective structure) and his servants protect him from without.

But the approach of the Holy One, Blessed be He is different—His Servants sit within and He Protects them from without,

as it is stated, (Tehillim 121:5) “HaShem is your Guardian; HaShem is your Shadow at your right hand.”

 

Avoda Zora 11a

(The immediate context of the following passage is a description of the attempts made by the Roman Caesar to forcibly recover his nephew, Onkelos, who had converted to Judaism, much to the chagrin of the Roman royal family. Two previous delegations that had been sent ended up themselves converting to Judaism.)

He (the Emperor) continued and sent another group of soldiers after him (Onkelos).

He said to them, “Do not enter into any discussions with him!” (for fear that Onkelos would once again utilize his obvious charisma to turn them into converts to Judaism like those who had preceded them.)

After the soldiers had forcibly taken him, and they were returning him to the palace, he saw a Mezuza that was affixed to a doorpost. He placed his hand upon it and smiled.

They said to him, “Why are you smiling?”

He said to them, “The way of the world is that the king sits within and his servants guard him from without. But re the Holy One, Blessed be He, His Servants are within and He Guards them from without,

as it is said, (Tehillim 121:8) ‘HaShem will Protect your goings out and your comings in, from this time and forever.’”

They converted, and he (the Emperor) sent no one else in pursuit of him (Onkelos).

 

The reason for the Mitzva of Tefillin that appears in these Talmudic sources, namely that this ritual object should serve as a reminder of HaShem’s Protection of the home, is in significant contrast to the rationale appearing in Sefer HaChinuch for this Commandment.

 

Mitzva #423

…And the among the foundations of the Commandment is that there should be a commemoration for an individual regarding his/her belief in HaShem at all times when s/he comes into his/her home and when s/he leaves it…

 

A crucial tension and paradox exists in terms of God’s simultaneous Immanence—the sense that we believe that He is extremely close to each of us—and His Transcendence—the assumption that HaShem is remote and removed from the affairs of man. On the one hand, (Yeshayahu 6:3) “…Kadosh, Kadosh, Kadosh HaShem Tzevakot” (lit. holy, holy, holy is the God of Hosts). According to many, “holiness” constitutes separateness from that which is not holy, and therefore   HaShem, by Being the Most Holy, is the Most Separate and Removed from all other things. Yet in the same verse is stated, “Melo Kol HaAretz Kevodo” (His Glory Fills the entire universe), suggesting that He is extremely Accessible. It would appear that while Sefer HaChinuch is satisfied with a Mezuza reminding the observant Jew   of no more than God’s general Existence, an essentially transcendent conception, the Talmudic sources are determined that man should think of God’s Immanence and consequent Protectiveness of His Creatures whenever he encounters a Mezuza.[3] In terms of attracting converts, particularly soldiers who regularly are expected to risk their lives in order to protect their superiors and their country, as in the anecdote in Avoda Zora, it is understandable how the latter approach might be of greater personal interest than the former.

 

While the connection between HaShem’s Protection and the Mitzva of Mezuza are understandable, to claim that Tehilla 121 is primarily discussing the protection that one experiences while within a house or a city’s gates seems difficult to substantiate.  From verses 1—raising one’s eyes to the mountains would be something that is done outdoors; 3—the allusion to the foot not stumbling is associated more with a traveler who is marching or hiking rather than one who is sitting at home; 6—the sun and the moon pose threats when one is exposed to the elements as opposed to under a roof; and 8—a reference to coming and going as opposed to remaining at home,[4] it would appear that the Psalm is particularly focusing upon someone who is journeying out in the open, in vehicles, or even underground rather than to an individual who has already arrived at his/her destination. Therefore references to Mezuza are homiletical at best, with the obvious overall meaning of the Psalm devoted to those who are “on the move”. Consequently if we believe that Tehilla 121 is a lead-in to a particular religious practice, it would appear to more appropriately create a precedent for the recitation of “Tefillat HaDerech” (lit. the Prayer for the Way, the prayer for a traveler), rather than the Mitzva of Mezuza.   

 

Berachot 29b quotes R. Yaakov in the name of R. Chisda to the effect that a prayer is to be offered “when one sets forth on a journey”. “Tefillat HaDerech”’s primary[5] text has evolved into the following:

 

May it be Your Will, HaShem, our God and God of our forefathers, that You Lead us towards peace, Help us take steps towards peace, Guide us towards peace, and Make us reach our desired destination for life, gladness, and peace. May You Rescue us from the hand of every foe, ambush, bandits and evil animals along the way, and all manner of punishments that develop in the world.

May You Send Blessing in all our handiwork, and Grant us grace, kindness and mercy in Your Eyes and in the eyes of all who see us. May You Hear the sound of our supplication, because You are God Who Hears prayer and supplication. Blessed are You HaShem, Who Hears prayer.[6],[7]

 

Several years ago, I had a most indelible experience with regard to Tefillat HaDerech while I was visiting my oldest son, then studying at Yeshivat Har Etzion in Israel. Since there are acute security issues where this Yeshiva is located, if one preferred not to take the infrequent “armored” Egged bus in order to travel elsewhere, it was customary to attempt to hitch a ride from within the Yeshiva compound rather than taking one’s chances standing along the highway. On one particular morning, at the gateway of the Yeshiva, someone kindly offered me a ride to Yerushalayim, and I accepted. Once we were on our way we proceeded to introduce ourselves to one another. It turned out that I had the privilege to be riding with a founder of the Gush Etzion settlement following the Six Day War, and a long-serving member of Kenesset, a well-known personality in Israeli society. At one point during a most fascinating and stimulating conversation, my host launched into a forthright and enthusiastic rendering of Tefillat HaDerech. Recognizing that the surrounding conditions did not call for such a recitation—there are Halachic prerequisites regarding the length of the journey, the density of the houses along the road, etc. before one recites this prayer—see Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chayim 110:4 ff.; since it is a blessing containing the Name of HaShem, concerns of “Beracha LeVatala” (a needless blessing) apply—I inquired about his approach to this Mitzva. “Is this road particularly dangerous at this point it time?” I asked, admittedly looking around me with some trepidation. He told me that while highways have been the scenes of terrorist incidents, his approach to Tefillat HaDerech is more general and comprehensive. He described how he believed that it was important for us to acknowledge our dependency upon HaShem not only when we were traveling, but in all of our endeavors and that it was his opinion that this is a prayer that should be recited every day, regardless of any specific conditions. Furthermore, he drew attention to the second half of the prayer, beginning “May You Send Blessing in all our handiwork…”, which focuses more upon our general activities and how we are perceived by others, than exclusively on safe travel.[8] He said that as a public figure, it was of the utmost importance to him to find favor in the eyes of others as well as HaShem, and therefore such a prayer is appropriate for all of his, and for that matter anyone else’s endeavors. I continue to wonder to this day when this individual began the practice that had so intrigued me. Had he always recited Tefillat HaDerech in this manner, or had he begun to do so only after terrorist threats in Israel became overwhelming, subsequently continuing on independent of whatever the real “threat level” happened to be at any given time?

 

Since I for one have never been prepared to be as adventurous as my distinguished driver of that memorable trip to Yerushalayim seemed to be when he voiced his opinion about how Tefillat HaDerech should be recited on a daily basis because its contents are so important[9] despite Halachic reservations to the contrary, it seems to me that Tehilla 121 can and should serve a similar purpose, without having to become involved in some of the aforementioned legal objections. There have always been some who both collectively and individually recite Tehillim every day, some who even finish the entire book each week, and therefore to focus upon a particular Psalm in order to regularly hope and pray on behalf of not only ourselves, but everyone that we know, and even those we don’t know, that we all will hopefully be safe during disquieting dangerous times, appears to be an admirable undertaking, and an essential, most spiritual act.

 

A secular reference of great spiritual import[10] that I think magnificently articulates why praying regularly on behalf of the welfare of others should be and is so integrally important to a truly religious personality, Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s classical poem, “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner”.[11] The poem presents the account of a frivolous seaman who in a moment of overt and mindless cruelty, kills an albatross, a good luck omen, that had been following the ship upon which he was sailing. As a result, the ship is cursed, everyone on it dies with the exception of the shooter, and he is doomed to tell the tale over and over so that others will learn not to repeat his sin. Prayer is a key theme in the poem. Initially, despite finding himself and his fellow crewmen in desperate straits, he notes that he could not pray.

         

           Part IV, ll. 245 ff.

 I look'd to heaven, and tried to pray;   

 But or ever a prayer had gusht,  

 A wicked whisper came, and made  

 My heart as dry as dust.  

 

Only at a later point, when he notices the beauty of some water snakes, does he find his ability to pray restored.

 

          Part IV, ll. 273 ff. 

          Beyond the shadow of the ship,  

I watch'd the water-snakes:  

They moved in tracks of shining white

And when they rear'd, the elfish light  

Fell off in hoary flakes.  

 

 Within the shadow of the ship  

 I watch'd their rich attire:  

 Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,    

 They coil'd and swam; and every track  

 Was a flash of golden fire.  

 

 Their beauty and their happiness.  O happy living things! no tongue  

 Their beauty might declare:  

 A spring of love gush'd from my heart,  

 He blesseth them in his heart.  And I bless'd them unaware:  

 Sure my kind saint took pity on me,  

 And I bless'd them unaware.  

 

 The spell begins to break.  The selfsame moment I could pray;  

 And from my neck so free   

 The Albatross fell off, and sank  

 Like lead into the sea.

 

At the end of the poem, the mariner confides in a wedding guest that he happens to encounter, the ultimate lesson concerning prayer that his haunting experience had taught him.

 

           Part VII, ll. 602 ff.

 O sweeter than the marriage-feast,  

 'Tis sweeter far to me,  

 To walk together to the kirk  

 With a goodly company!—   

 

 To walk together to the kirk,  

 And all together pray,  

 While each to his great Father bends,  

 Old men, and babes, and loving friends,  

 And youths and maidens gay!    

 

 And to teach, by his own example,

  love and reverence to all things

  that God made and loveth. 

 

  Farewell, farewell! but this I tell  

  To thee, thou Wedding-Guest!  

   He prayeth well, who loveth well  

   Both man and bird and beast.  

 

   He prayeth best, who loveth best   

   All things both great and small;   

   For the dear God who loveth us,  

   He made and loveth all.'

 

Coleridge places in the mouth of the mariner the contention that the act of prayer can only take place if the pray-er loves/has concern for/has empathy for those outside of him/her. To the extent that he loves them, he will be able to pray for them. I would propose that the reverse could also be true, i.e., by praying for others, even if we do not start out with a love for them, it could be developed by means of our act of prayer. Consequently, reciting Tehilla 121 is both an act of love as well as a ritual that hopefully will result in increased love of those who are vulnerable, exposed to danger, protecting us by their devotion and sacrifice. Not only is such a practice not a Beracha LeVatala, it is a Kiddush HaShem! I hope that Tehilla 121 has now taken on new meaning for us all.

 

Shabbat Shalom, and may the time come soon when it will be absolutely clear worldwide that there is no longer anything to fear and we can return to focus upon thanking HaShem for all He continues to Do for each of us.