With apologies to George Gershwin, Ella Fitzgerald and Frank Sinatra:

“There’s a somebody I’m longin’ to see
I hope that he, turns out to be
Someone who’ll watch over me”

Tomorrow morning I won’t be at Hebrew School. There isn’t any. I won’t be at the education committee meeting either. I’ll be at First Presbyterian Church, together, I hope with our confirmation class and anyone else who might like to attend. Why? Because they want someone to chant a Psalm in Hebrew. The right way. So I will go.

And it occurs to me as I watch us parade with the Torah the ritual that many Christian congregations have of passing the peace is based on what we do. And it is related to both our the George Gershwin song, the portion we read today and why I am going to church tomorrow.

Amongst the things they want to hear is the priestly benediction, the very same text that we will chant later today from the Torah. This is a very simple text. Just three lines.

Yevarechecha v’yishmarecha, May the Lord bless you and keep you.

Ya’er Adonai panav eielcha v’chunecha: May G-d’s face “light up” and be gracious to you.

Yisa adonai paanav eilecha v’yisa lecha shalom, May G-d lift His face towards you and give you peace.

In our congregation we rarely hear it except on the High Holidays. Traditionally this was something just the priests did. In Yiddish it is called duckening. Has anyone ever seen it?

Ha! You are not supposed to! Traditionally the cohanim, those descendent from priests, would excuse themselves, go wash their hands in a ritually prescribed way, return, face the congregation, hide their heads under their tallitot, raise their arms, give the sign of the priests, that same sign that Dr. Spock made famous, avert their eyes and pronounce the tri-part blessing. The congregation would avert their eyes and receive it. One congregant even said that when he was young, people actually turned around to prevent themselves from looking. That gave it more mystery.

It was given and received blind. It seems like the rungs on Maimonidies tzadakah latdder. Given and received anonymously, in the name of G-d. There seems to be a certain power and mystery in it. You are not supposed to look on the face of the Divine. But maybe we are protecting ourselves not only from drawing too close to the Divine, but also protecting ourselves from something human, as American Jewish World Service suggested. “The tendency to turn an act of blessing into an act that invest one group with power at the expense of another.” It that possible?

Most people I know in traditional synagogues peeked. They wanted to see the “magic” delivered. The discussion in our own sanctuary was interesting. Reasons were given for why we don’t usually do it. Some said that the hierarchy just doesn’t make any sense any more. We don’t really know who are descendent from the priestly class. That is why we don’t do it. Our ritual chair, predictably, said, we don’t do it because he is impatient and it takes more time. One said that we don’t need an intercessor and anyone can give the priestly blessing.

Like the waters of the mikveh, there is no magic in the blessing.

What is the blessing?

This blessing is a wish that someone will “watch over us”, guard and keep us. Be our Protector. That Protector is G-d.

The hope that G-d’s face will illumine ours. That G-d will smile upon us. As it says in the old Union Prayer Book as part of the Friday night candle blessing, “By Your light do we see light.” It is quoting Psalms. That graciousness is that chanecha. We see it in the 13 Attribute, Chanun v’rachum where graciousness is linked with compassion. We see it in next week’s portions where the light of G-d, the Or in the Menorah, is described as Hain, Hain, Beautiful, Beautiful. Again, this is a solemn wish that we be blessed with G-d’s favor and light. They are linked.

Ultimately as the last part suggests, what we wish for, what we want to be blessed with is a sense of peace. Of wholeness.

This blessing is not just given by the priests any more. It is the same blessing we give to our children on Friday night. When the Temple was destroyed in Jerusalem, our homes became a mikdash me’at, a little sanctuary. We became the priests. And so we bless our children with this wish. These three blessings are what we wish for our children, all of our children—that G-d will watch over them, even when we can’t. That G-d will illumine them and smile upon on them. That G-d will give them peace.

Why is that so important? Rachel Anisfeld, PhD with a book on rabbinic Judaism, “Sustain me with raisin cakes,” explains that really this is a blessing of satisfaction. In a society that always seems to crave, “More, More” it is hard to know when we have enough. It is important to learn how to be satisfied. That is part of what is in this blessing. The midrash on this parsha tells this story. As Anisfeld tells it:

“A large family sits down to a very meager meal, some small bits of bread. Now the Torah says, “And you shall eat, and you shall be satisfied, and you shall bless [here meaning thank] the Lord your God” (Deut 8:10). This is the biblical source for benching, the saying of grace after meals. What do the members of the midrash’s family do after eating their decidedly unsatisfactory meal? They bench anyway; they thank God despite not being full. According to the midrash, it is this action, this lifting of one’s face toward God in blessing and thanksgiving (brachah) which leads God to lift His face toward us in blessing (brachah), and to bestow upon us the favors of the priestly blessing. It is like we tell our children: “If you say thank you, they’ll invite you back.” The first step in receiving the blessing involves appreciating that we already have been blessed. And thus begins the cycle; our appreciation, our brachah, leads to His further brachah which leads to our brachah of thanks and so on. (Numbers Rabbah 11:7)”

So now I ask, how do we know when we are satisfied? Last week, I kept eating, not because I was hungry. I wasn’t. It was because it seemed nothing satisfied. I was looking for something else. What does it mean to be satisfied?

Last night when we got to the prayer Modim Anachnu Lach, I was reminded that I tell the kids when they get to this prayer not to necessarily look for a 100 blessings as the rabbis tell us. No just look for one and concentrate on that. Last night it was clear. We were experiencing a true Oneg Shabbat, a moment of Shabbat delight, Shabbat joy. Not just the food, which was good, but the community. The community that came out and led services so beautifully. The community that came out to honor our outgoing Sisterhood president. The community that came, merely for a chance to daven, to express their satisfaction and their gratitude to G-d.

Being satisfied, that sense of fullness, in a culture of more, more, more, is one of the beginnings of religious experience. It is what opens us up to the experience of the holy, of the Divine. As Ainsfeld says, “Opening the heart to seeing, really seeing God’s gifts and blessings in all their tiny minutiae – the single moment of a child’s laughter (even amidst a day full of tears), the moment when a group’s voices merge in Shabbat song, or the sweet taste of one small piece of juicy melon. The goal is to look at these small things and to feel full, to be able to say: If that is all the good that comes of today, that is enough.”

That sense of satisfaction, that sense of fullness, is what Sefat HaEmet says is what the peace means of the priestly benediction. May we be blessed to have Someone watch over us. To smile upon us and give us light. To grant us peace. Now and always.