The Amidah

Moving from praise to petition to thanksgiving, the Amidah inculcates a sense of connection to God.

By Rabbi Daniel Kohn

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The Amidah is the core of every Jewish worship service, and is therefore also referred to as HaTefillah, or “The prayer.” Amidah, which literally means, "standing," refers to a series of blessings recited while standing.
Using the image of master and servant, the Rabbis declared that a worshipper should come before his or her master first with words of praise, then should ask one's petitions, and finally should withdraw with words of thanks.

Kedushah

Thus, every Amidah is divided into three central sections: praise, petitions, and thanks.
Originally, Jewish prayer was largely unstructured. Although the Rabbis eventually codified the format and themes of each of the blessings, it was initially left to the creativity of individual prayer leaders to generate the specific wording of the blessings. Individual communities in different countries began to settle on somewhat standard versions of the prayers over time. Today the variations between the traditional texts of the Amidah in different communities are fairly minor.
The Amidah is recited silently by all members of a congregation--or by individuals praying along--and then, in communal settings, repeated aloud by the prayer leader or cantor, with the congregation reciting "Amen" to all the blessings of the Amidah.

The First Three Blessings

The first three blessings of praise of the Amidah in every worship service are always the same, with only minor variations for weekdays, Shabbat, and holidays. The first blessing is called Avot, Hebrew for "ancestors," and serves as an introduction to the God of our biblical heritage, connecting us to the Divine. Immediately before reciting the Amidah, the tradition developed of taking three steps backward and then forward again to symbolize entering into God presence. Mentioning the patriarchs Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob--and in liberal congregations, the matriarchs, Sarah, Rebecca, Leah, and Rachel--this blessing praises God for remembering their good actions, and by implication, asking God to hear our prayer favorably because of their merit. The blessing begins and ends with a formal bow at the knees and hips, symbolically demonstrating our subservience to God.
The second blessing of praise is called Gevurah (might), which describes those powers which are only within the purview of the Divine: "Your lovingkindness sustains the living, your great mercies give life to the dead." Articulating a fundamental Rabbinic belief in resurrection, this blessing is a reminder of God's absolute power of life and death.
The final blessing of this opening section of praise is called the Kedushah, or holiness. There are two versions of this prayer, one when recited silently by individuals, the other, much longer, is a series of prayers and responses by the leader and congregation when the Amidah is repeated on behalf of the community.
Both of these prayers emphasize the holiness and sacred nature of God. The individually-recited version simply states, "Holy are You and holy is Your name. Holy are they who praise you daily." The core of the communally repeated blessing is derived from the biblical prophet Isaiah's vision of God in the heavenly Temple surrounded by the angels singing praises (Isaiah chapter 6).
Isaiah described the angels calling one to another, echoing the phrase, "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Hosts, the whole world is filled with His glory." This verse is introduced by claiming that the human chorus of voices imitates the heavenly chorus, and thus, in a choreography designed to reflect angels, individuals rock up upon the balls of their feet three times, for each word "holy" that is said, symbolizing the fluttering of the angels who recited this line of praise. Several more biblical verses are also recited, ending in the blessing, "Praised are You, Adonai, the holy God."

The Middle Section

On weekdays, the middle section of the Amidah consists of 13 blessings that are individual and communal requests to God. Originally consisting of only 12 petitions, the total number of blessings recited was 18, hence, an early synonym for the Amidah was the Shemonah Esrei, or the Eighteen.  However, in Rabbinic times another blessing was added resulting in a total of 19, yet the original name of the Shemonah Esrei was retained.
Of these 13 requests recited during the weekday Amidah, the first five are essentially personal, or individual requests to God to improve the situation of each person. The individual prays to God to grant us intelligence and understanding, give us the ability to repent of our transgressions, for God to be gracious and forgiving, to send a redeemer, or messiah, to the Jewish people to end our affliction, and finally, to grant healing to those who are sick and ailing. Despite the individual nature of these requests, the language of the prayers are all in the plural emphasizing the corporate nature of even singular Jewish identity.
The following eight blessings are focused more explicitly on the communal and national needs of the Jewish people. There is a request for rain or dew in the proper season to ensure agricultural bounty, a plea to end the dispersion of the Jewish people, and prayers to restore true judges and establish justice in the world; to humble the arrogant and those who seek to malign and injure the Jewish community; to sustain the righteous of the house of Israel; rebuild Jerusalem; reestablish a Davidic leadership; and a final petition to hear and answer the prayers of the Jewish people.
On Shabbat and holidays, instead of requests that might distract us by reminding us of our physical and national wants and needs, the Rabbis established the middle section as an opportunity to celebrate the holiness of the Sabbath day and/or the festival. On Shabbat morning, the entire middle section of the Amidah describes Moses receiving the Ten Commandments followed by the verses from the book of Exodus (31:16-17) that describe the observance of Shabbat as a sign of the covenant between God and the Jewish people. Furthermore, Shabbat is summarized as a gift given only to the Jews out of God's love for His people. It concludes with a blessing thanking God for sanctifying the Shabbat.
On festivals, particularly the pilgrimage holidays of Pesach, Shavuot, and Sukkot, the middle portion of the Amidah similarly describes how God has given these holidays as a gift to the Jewish people for joy and celebration. There are also references to the biblical patriarchs, King David, and Jerusalem to be remembered in glory. Despite the official absence of requests, the holiday prayers of the Amidah do in fact ask that God enable us to enjoy and celebrate the holiday with gladness of heart and conclude with a blessing thanking God for sanctifying the people of Israel and the holiday.

The Final Section

The final section of every Amidah concludes with blessings of thanksgiving to God; like the first three blessings, these are identical for weekday, Shabbat, and holiday versions of the Amidah. The first of these is called Avodah, which means service, referring to the service of animal sacrifices in the days of the Temple. This prayer asks that God accept our prayers as were the animal sacrifices of old and concludes by thanking God for (ultimately) restoring God's presence to Zion, referring to both the land of Israel and the city of Jerusalem.
The second concluding prayer of thanksgiving is called Hoda'ah, or thanks. This prayer thanks God for the gift of our lives and for the daily miracles which God bestows upon the world each day. The beginning and end of this prayer are marked by a bow at the hips, once again symbolizing the depth of our gratitude to God.
At this point during the reader’s repetition of the Amidah, the reader recites the three-fold priestly blessing, with the congregation responding, “So may it be God’s will” after each line:
“May the Lord bless you and keep you
May the Lord cause His favor to shine upon you and be gracious unto you
May the Lord lift His favor unto you and give you peace” (Numbers 6:24-26).
Although customs vary, traditional synagogues outside of Israel have the congregants who are kohanim (of the priestly family) ascend and invoke God’s blessing upon the congregation by reciting this blessing on the holidays; in Israel, this is done every Shabbat, and in Jerusalem, every day.
The final prayer of thanksgiving to God is actually a final petition to bestow justice, mercy, and peace on the world. Called Shalom, or peace, the community asks that God grant peace, goodness, blessing, and compassion upon everyone; the themes and language are clearly derived from the priestly blessing that precedes it. A different but parallel version of this prayer is recited in the afternoon and evening Amidah prayers.
Although the official structure of the Amidah concludes with the prayer for peace, the Rabbis of antiquity added on private, personal meditations. The fairly standard version, which appears in most siddurim (prayer books) is the concluding meditation of Mar bar Ravina from the time of the Talmud (Berachot 17a).
However, it is appropriate for individuals to recite their own prayers as well as this point. The Amidah then formally concludes with the recitation of the line, "May God who brings peace to the universe, bring peace to us and all of the people, Israel. Amen." This is recited while taking three steps backward, bowing to both sides, and taking three steps forward again, formally retreating from God's symbolic presence.

Rabbi Daniel Kohn, a native of St. Louis, Missouri, was ordained from the Jewish Theological Seminary of America in 1991. He is the author of several books on Jewish education and spirituality who currently writes and teaches throughout the San Francisco Bay area.

ARIS SAN - MODE ANI LEFANEHA = מודה אני לפניך - אריס סאן

Medical Technology - the future is here

The operating room of the future developed in Israel will change the way complex procedures will be done without making incisions.

The operating room of the future is  well into development stage.   Truly amazing technology.

Mademoiselle" beautiful song tells the story of Jewish children who were saved

Mademoiselle".-- beautiful song tells the story of Jewish children who were saved in Belgium during WW 2

A song written in honor of Andree Geulen on the occasion of her 90th birthday. In Belgium, during the Holocaust, she undertook the rescue of many Jewish children.

A song is born
In summer 1942, as persecution of Belgium's Jews began, an underground Jewish group took form in cooperation with the Belgian underground and set out to rescue Jewish children by hiding them in various places around the country. The most active team consisted of twelve-women, mostly non-Jewish, who managed to hide some 3000 children. This admirable clandestine campaign was unique by the complexity of its structure and the degree of its success.
The only survivor from the team today is Andrée Geulen, and on September 4, a great number of the children who had been hidden celebrated her ninetieth birthday. The celebration included a screening of a DVD in which singer Keren Hadar performed a song in her honor. The song stirred a great deal of emotion.
This song, composed very shortly before the event, arose from an impulse on the part of one of the hidden children — Shaul Harel, who today is a professor of pediatric neurology.
... and this is how it happened
One warm summer day at the Isrotel Dead Sea Hotel, the Harel family was visiting for a performance of the opera Aïda at Massada. Shaul Harel was lolling alone in the whirlpool bath. As the warm water and the complete solitude began to take effect, he wondered intensely what gift he could bring to Andrée for her birthday. "After all, she already has everything. After the war, she married a Jewish attorney, they were blessed with two daughters and with grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and to this day she is surrounded by the love of the children she rescued." Suddenly, as to Archimedes in his warm bath, the Muse descended to him. Although he did not emerge with a mathematical equation — since mathematics was never his subject — he just as suddenly decided to write her a poem. And this is not to be taken lightly, since for many years he had written nothing but medical documentation and articles. The warmth of the water and the atmosphere brought lines tumbling into his mind, and as if possessed, he burst into the hotel room and told his wife Dalia to sit down and transcribe because otherwise the lines would "get away" from him. His wife raised her eyebrows, thinking that the desert heat had overpowered him. But she consented and soon a poem was on paper telling Andrée's story. Shaul's imagination took him further and he said that the poem should be set to music and his favorite singer, Keren Hadar, should perform it. Since the poem was written in free verse, Dahlia worked rhymes into it. The poem was read to Keren and she was moved to tears. She said that it was suitable for setting to music and that she would like to sing it. She recommended Rafi Kadishzon, a prolific and well-known composer. Rafi heard the poem, liked it, and immediately recommended Dan Almagor, a master of the Hebrew word, to adjust the text for the music. In the end, Dan Almagor contributed greatly to the rhythm, to the refrain, and to the perfect fit of the lyrics.
All this occurred in the course of two weeks. A week later, the song was recorded, the DVD visuals were prepared, and copies were printed with graphics and with a French and English translation. Everyone who saw it was moved, and now here it is for you

A Native and a Zionist

By Ryan Bellerose on January 24, 2013

I am a Métis from Northern Alberta. My father, Mervin Bellerose, co-authored the Métis Settlements Act of 1989, which was passed by the Alberta legislature in 1990 and cemented our land rights. I founded Canadians For Accountability, a native rights advocacy group, and I am an organizer and participant in the Idle No More movement in Calgary. And I am a Zionist.
Let me tell you why.
I grew up on a Métis colony in what many would say are rough conditions: we had no electricity, running water or telephone.  When it rained, the dirt roads that linked us to the highways flooded and we were stranded. I lived in a bunkhouse with my two stepbrothers, while my father and stepmother lived in a small cabin nearby.  We raised a garden, hunted and fished, picked berries and made the odd trip to town to buy supplies.  My father worked construction and lived in camps for long stretches and I would often stay at relatives’ to escape my stepmother’s abuse.  Still, I considered my childhood normal.
My interest in Israel started at a young age.  My father gave me a set of Encyclopedia Britannica for my 5th birthday and, from there, a passion for history was born.  I would sit and read whenever the weather was bad.  In fact, it was a family joke that taking away my books for a few hours was a better way to discipline me than a spanking.  One entry that caught my eye was that of Israel’s birth in 1948. It struck me as the ultimate David and Goliath story: Israel, a tiny country that had fought for independence from the British Empire, was forced from its first moments to defend its existence against the combined armies of the Arab world.  Israel survived against all odds, and did so in a truly epic story of will and heroism.  This story inspired me.
Growing up, I was a very small child. (I am called "Tiny Ryney" to this day, though I play defensive tackle for the Calgary Wolfpack).  I was called a "half-breed" and other slurs by white kids while the children in my colony made fun of my paler skin.  I didn’t belong anywhere.  And I had to be resourceful to protect myself, since I was weaker than the others. Being the victim of bullying shaped who I am and my sense of right and wrong.  It is one reason that I support Israel, a country that has faced bullying and manipulation since its birth.  Israel too has had to be resourceful to defend itself against enemies that dwarf it.  And, like me, it overcame.
Noticing my curiosity about Israel, my father bought me as a birthday gift a book about the 1976 Raid on Entebbe, a brilliant rescue by Israeli commandos of hostages taken by Palestinian terrorists to Uganda.  Again, this impressed me.  Israel was willing to do the impossible to rescue its people, regardless of the political fallout.  This pushed me to read more about the Arab-Israeli conflict.  In so doing, I learned about the ’72 Munich Olympic Games, where Palestinian terrorists massacred 11 Israeli athletes during an event meant to be a celebration of brotherhood and peace. I wondered why more people weren’t as upset as I was.
It was during this time, while visiting relatives working oil rigs, that I learned while watching a hotel TV of the horrific 1972 Lod Airport massacre where terrorists shot dead 26 civilians waiting for their flights, including 17 Christian pilgrims. I also remember the 1985 attack by Yasser Arafat’s forces on the Achille Lauro cruise ship, where an old disabled man was thrown overboard in his wheelchair for the crime of being a Jew.  The more I saw, the more I needed to understand why such things were happening.  The more I learned, the more I grew to appreciate Israel’s moral integrity in the face of brutal hatred.  And I came to believe that the Jewish people and Israel should serve as an example to indigenous people everywhere.  It is with the Jews – and their stubborn survival after being decimated and dispersed by powerful empires -- that we have the most in common.
My people, the Métis, came to Alberta after the American Revolution, at the government’s request, to prevent the settling of the Americans in western Canada.  We settled the land and followed the white man’s rules.  But we were eventually evicted, our homes given to white pioneers.  No one wanted us. We were forced to live in hiding, on road allowances, in the bush. We had no rights, and we were killed out of hand, as "nuisances". Exile fractured our nation. Our people wandered with no hope and no home. Then, in the mid 1900's, our leaders managed to secure land for us, not the land we had wanted but land that would nonetheless allow us to build a better future. We took it, built our settlements and formed a government to improve the lives of our people. We still have many problems to solve, of course, but we also have more educated people than ever and are slowly becoming self-sufficient, as our leaders envisioned.  In this, the Jewish people and the Métis have walked the same road.
The Jews also suffered genocide and were expelled from their homeland.  They were also rejected by everyone and forced to wander.  Like us, they rebelled against imperial injustice when necessary and, despite their grievances, strived for peace whenever possible.  Like us they were given a tiny sliver of their land back after centuries of suffering and persecution, land that nobody else had wanted to call home until then.  Like us, they took that land despite their misgivings and forged a nation from a fractured and wounded people.  And like us, they consistently show a willingness to compromise for the good of their people.
I hope the Metis keep walking the same road as the Jewish people.  Through their efforts, the Jews were able to preserve their identity despite terrible persecution and to revive their culture and language once back in their homeland.  They never lost their sense of who they were, but neither did they lose sight of the importance of looking forward.  Given their history, it would have been natural for them to become insular and reactionary.  But instead, they work hard to be productive and are friendly even to countries that have caused them tremendous suffering.  I want us to similarly make education and the preservation of our ancient culture a priority.  I want us to continue to strive for peace and productivity.
Many claim that we Natives have more in common with the Palestinians, that their struggle is our struggle.  Beyond superficial similarities, nothing could be farther from the truth.  Beyond the facile co-opting of our cause, the comparison with the Palestinians is absolutely untenable.  It trivializes our suffering.
Co-opting today’s native struggle to the Palestinian propaganda war is a fallacy. Though the Palestinians have undeniable ties to the land, first hand accounts by Mark Twain and countless other travelers to the Holy Land through the ages suggest that a large percentage of the Palestinian people immigrated to Palestine in recent decades.  And for 65 years, the Palestinians have convinced the world that they are worse off than many other stateless nations, despite all evidence to the contrary.  The Palestinians claim to have been colonized but it was their own leaders who refused to negotiate and who lost the land that they want by waging a needless war on Israel.  They claim to have faced genocide but they suffered no such thing: their population has exploded from a few hundred thousand in 1948 to over 4 million today.  They claim deprivation but their elites live in luxury while their people live in ramshackle poverty.
What’s more, the Palestinian leaders have never been interested in a peaceful solution for their people. They were given several opportunities to have their own state – for the first time in history -- and refused each time, choosing war over peace because the offers were never deemed sufficient. They have persistently used terrorism to bring attention to their cause and their leaders have celebrated the killing of civilians by naming parks and schools after murderers.  And any Palestinian that questions the maximalist rhetoric or who suggests real compromise is immediately ostracized, branded a traitor, or killed.
The Palestinians are not like us.  Their fight is not our fight.  We natives believe in bringing about change peacefully, and we refuse to be affiliated with anyone who engages in violence targeting civilians.  I cannot remain silent and allow the Palestinians to gain credibility at our expense by claiming commonality with us. I cannot stand by while they trivialize our plight by tying it to theirs, which is largely self-inflicted.  Our population of over 65 million was violently reduced to a mere 10 million, a slaughter unprecedented in human history.  To compare that in whatever way to the Palestinians’ story is deeply offensive to me. The Palestinians did lose the land they claim is theirs, but they were repeatedly given the opportunity to build their state on it and to partner with the Jews -- and they persistently refused peace overtures and chose war.   We were never given that chance.  We never made that choice.

THE RAVENS - MAHZEL (Also spelled Mazel)

Judy Cohen - Schmuck