Psalm 81 is not what I would describe as a usual text to explore the meaning of gratitude, of being thankful. While it is part of the traditional liturgy, the matba’eh as the Psalm for Thursday; it doesn’t use any of those words like, give thanks. However, for me, it illustrates the Psalmist’s sense of thanksgiving and the awareness of the Divine Presence in a very powerful and personal way. Warning. This sermon contains violence. For some of you, this may be a difficult or uncomfortable dvar tefilah to hear.

It begins by saying:

Sing with joy to God, our strength
Shout with gladness to the God of Jacob.

It continues that we should strike up a melody, sound the timbrel, play the harp and lyre, sound the shofar—we should make music.

The reason to sing with joy and shout with gladness and make music is because we feel grateful. For what are we feeling grateful? For God, our strength, who rose against the land of Egypt.  All of this is communal, in the plural form.

But the text continues—and it switches to the personal. The translation in Siddur Sim Shalom is more liberal than literal:

Then I heard a voice I never knew.
“I removed the burden from your shoulder
your hands were freed from the load.
When you called in distress I rescued you
Unseen, I answered you in thunder
I tested your faith in the wilderness.”

The actual Hebrew is more specific. It refers to the Exodus from Egypt—and removing the Israelites from the burden of slavery. The load was the basket of bricks that the Israelites carried in the building projects of Pharaoh. The wilderness is named in the Hebrew; it is waters of Meribah. Meribah itself means strife and is a reference in Exodus 17:7 and Numbers 20:13, where the Israelites stayed after fleeing Egypt, the narrow place, and were complaining that they wanted to go back—because they were feeling strife at being free.

Another reference to removing a burden occurs in Exodus 33, with a very similar concept. When Moses is tired after the Golden Calf and does not want to go back up Mount Sinai to get another set of tablets. God reassures Moses of God’s presence saying, “I will go in the lead and lighten your burden.” As we celebrate Passover this week, we are told to see it as though we personally were freed from Egypt, from the narrow places that enslave us.

The oblique translation of Siddur Sim Shalom worked for me. It allowed me to go back to a difficult time in my life and answer a haunting question. This is where the d’var tefilah gets tough. Some of you readers know that I was a victim of a violent crime in Israel. For years people had asked me, given that, how could I still believe in God, where was God that long night into hell, how could I possibly become a rabbi?

One day, at morning minyan, I knew. This was the answer I was seeking. God was present that long night. God had removed the burden, freed me from the load; unseen, God answered me when I had called. I must have prayed that night, although I don’t remember. But it must have been something like “Lord, make them stop.” I am not sure that God answered that prayer—Perhaps it was my unspoken cries or my very loud screams. The fact of the matter is, I am here to tell the story. God rescued me. Saved me. God was my strength and my protection. Because the reality was I could have been just as easily been killed.

The end of the psalm admonishes Israel that they should listen to the Lord, and that there should be no strange gods among them. However, if the Israelites listen to God’s voice, they will be rewarded with honey from the rock. Believe me, that is a very sweet promise. One that I know I have been privileged to enjoy and that I hope we can all discover. For that I am also grateful.

So when I read this Psalm—even though it is about another person and another burden, I give thanks. I am here. I can tell the story. I can sing with joy, (my middle name). I can shout with gladness. I can blow shofar. I may not be any good with the harp and the lyre but I can recognize God as my strength, even when God is unseen. I can be grateful that I am still here, that every day is a gift.  With that gift comes with a responsibility to make a difference in this world. That burden I accept. Hineni.