JUNE 13 • 2024 | 37
The God of Abraham is
not a mere force of nature or
even all the forces of nature
combined. A tsunami does
not pause to ask who its vic-
tims will be. There is nothing
personal about an earth-
quake or a tornado.
The word Elokim means
something like “the force of
forces, cause of causes, the
totality of all scientifically
discoverable laws.” It refers
to those aspects of God that
are impersonal. It also refers
to God in His attribute of
justice, because justice is
essentially impersonal.
A PERSONAL GOD
But the name we call
Hashem — the name used in
the priestly blessings, and in
almost all the priestly texts
— is God as He relates to
us as individuals, each with
our unique configuration of
hopes and fears, gifts and
possibilities. Hashem is the
aspect of God that allows us
to use the word “You.” He
is the God who speaks to
us and who listens when we
speak to Him. How this hap-
pens, we do not know, but
that it happens is central to
Jewish faith.
That we call God
“Hashem” is the transcen-
dental confirmation of our
significance in the scheme of
things. We matter as individ-
uals because God cares for us
as a parent for a child. That,
incidentally, is one reason
why the priestly blessings are
all in the singular, to empha-
size that God blesses us not
only collectively but also
individually. One life, said
the Sages, is like a universe.
Hence the meaning of the
last of the priestly blessings.
The knowledge that God
turns His face toward us —
that we are not just an indis-
cernible face in a crowd, but
that God relates to us in our
uniqueness and singularity
— is the most profound and
ultimate source of peace.
Competition, strife, law-
lessness and violence come
from the psychological need
to prove that we matter. We
do things to prove that I am
more powerful or richer or
more successful than you.
I can make you fear. I can
bend you to my will. I can
turn you into my victim, my
subject, my slave. All of these
things testify not to faith, but
to a profound failure of faith.
Faith means that I believe
that God cares about me. I
am here because He wanted
me to be. The soul He gave
me is pure. Even though I
am like the child on the hill
watching the ship pass by,
I know that God is looking
for me, waving to me as I
wave to Him. That is the
most profound inner source
of peace. We do not need to
prove ourselves to receive a
blessing from God. All we
need to know is that His face
is turned toward us. When
we are at peace with our-
selves, we can begin to make
peace with the world.
So the blessings become
longer and deeper: from the
external blessing of material
goods to the interpersonal
blessing of grace between
ourselves and others, to the
most inward of them all, the
peace of mind that comes
when we feel that God sees
us, hears us, holds us in His
everlasting arms.
A BLESSING ‘WITH LOVE’
One further detail of the
priestly blessings is unique,
namely the blessing that the
Sages instituted to be said by
the Kohanim over the mitz-
vah: “Blessed are You … who
has made us holy with the
holiness of Aaron and has
commanded us to bless His
people Israel with love.”
It is the last word, be’aha-
vah, that is unusual. It
appears in no other blessing
over the performance of a
command. It seems to make
no sense. Ideally, we should
fulfill all the commands with
love. But an absence of love
does not invalidate any other
command. In any case, the
blessing over the perfor-
mance of a command is a
way of showing that we are
acting intentionally.
There was an argument
between the Sages as to
whether mitzvot in general
require intention (kavanah)
or not. But whether they do
or not, making a blessing
beforehand shows that we do
have the intention to fulfil
the command. But inten-
tion is one thing, emotion is
another.
Surely, what matters is that
the Kohanim recite the bless-
ing and God will do the rest.
What difference does it make
whether they do so in love
or not?
The commentators wrestle
with this question. Some say
the fact that the Kohanim are
facing the people when they
bless means they are like the
cherubim in the Tabernacle,
whose faces “were turned
to one another” as a sign
of love. Others change the
word order. They say that
the blessing really means,
“who has made us holy with
the holiness of Aaron and
with love has commanded
us to bless His people Israel.”
“Love” here refers to God’s
love for Israel, not that of the
Kohanim.
However, it seems to me
that the explanation is this:
The Torah explicitly says that
though the Kohanim say the
words, it is God who sends
the blessing. “Let them put
My name on the Israelites,
and I will bless them.”
Normally when we ful-
fil a mitzvah, we are doing
something. But when the
Kohanim bless the people,
they are not doing anything
in and of themselves. Instead,
they are acting as channels
through which God’s bless-
ing flows into the world and
into our lives. Only love does
this. Love means that we are
focused not on ourselves but
on another. Love is selfless-
ness. And only selflessness
allows us to be a channel
through which flows a force
greater than ourselves, the
love that as Dante said,
“moves the sun and the other
stars,” the love that brings
new life into the world.
To bless, we must love,
and to be blessed is to know
that we are loved by the One
vaster than the universe who
nonetheless turns His face
toward us as a parent to a
beloved child. To know that is
to find true spiritual peace.
The late Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks
served as the chief rabbi of the
United Hebrew Congregations of the
Commonwealth, 1991-2013. His teach-
ings have been made available to all
at rabbisacks.org.