Gary S. Creditor
Temple Beth-El, Richmond, Virginia
December 11, 2003

For Thanksgiving holiday our family gathered at Menachem and Liz's home in Massachusetts, enjoying dinner at my brother and sister-in-law who live in the same town. That night our granddaughter Ariel had a little difficulty in falling asleep. Well, our three children and my niece and nephew have worn a special place near my shoulder for little heads to sleep on, so I took Ariel upstairs and to rock her to sleep. Just like so long ago with our three children, I again listened enraptured to the sweet breathing of this little person. I can't imagine more melodious music in my ear. It is special to look at a baby: all the physical components just in miniature, the delicacy of features, the unique unfolding of the human drama as they discover motor skills and add language ability. When I played with Ariel on the floor and danced with her and Menachem she now said to me, "Silly Sabbah," with "th" sound for the "s." Awe. Wonder. Amazement. It is so easy to take it for granted when we get older, the marvel and miraculousness of our birth and growth, of our bodies.

I remember when our babies were born. The first things we checked were the fingers and toes. I then discovered the phenomenon of the human body that no biology course could ever teach me as they took in nourishment and processed it through their tiny entities. I can't say that I held bated breath, but I always relaxed when all systems indicated that they were working properly. Holding Ariel returned me to yesteryear with the joy and relief that all her systems were just perfect. I have learned never to take this for granted. This sense of gratitude and appreciation, which leads to specific actions or refraining from others, is embodied in the prayers of our faith. It gives us our Jewish value system and unique worldview.

I rediscovered in my maturity a prayer I first noticed in my youth that is intended to be said upon wakening in the morning. First we say "Modeh Ani," thanking God that we are alive. There is the joke that if you read the obits and don't see your name you are given another day. We say thank you before reading the paper. Secondly we say "Al Nitilat Yadayim" after washing our hands. Then there is this beautiful prayer called "Asher Yatzar" from its first main words. The first time I saw it was in sixth grade, the only year that I attended yeshiva. It was posted on the door of the boy's room, and guess by the girls' too, supposedly to be said before you left. I remember thinking that it was a big joke. Somebody had to be kidding. To say something like that, there! The older I am the more relevant and immediate is its message. I recite it before putting on tefillin every morning. The text reads:

"Blessed are You, O Lord, our God, king of the universe, that created the human being with infinite wisdom, and created passages that are supposed to be open (like mouth and nose) and passages that are supposed to be closed (like stomach and heart). It is revealed and known before the throne of Your glory, that if those intended to be closed were open or those intended to be open were closed, we couldn't exist and arise before You. Blessed are You, O Lord, healer of all flesh and who does wondrously."

Time. Location. Activity. We thought that reciting this prayer then and there was a hoot. I have come to appreciate the insight and sensitivity of those words.

When I held Ariel in my arms at her baby naming, and especially for the hour or so when I rocked her to sleep, the deep spiritual and emotional meaning of those words was renewed.
I know that the hustle and bustle, the demands of life with or without children at home, often drive us to distraction and preoccupation.
When we are younger it seems that the day will never end
and when we are older it seems that the day is almost over before it begins.
We wait for vacations to see the sunrise and sunset, and they are over in an instant.
Our faith, through the words of prayers directs us:
never lose the sense of awe, wonder and radical amazement -- that we are alive!
If we can't remember on our own because we are too busy, they by reciting this prayer we are confronted by the miraculous working of our body parts which medical science still struggles to decipher. We pause, specifically, daily, intentionally to say to ourselves:
We are a miracle!
Our bodies are a glorious mystery!
How precious is life, lived in this unfathomable vehicle!
All this is contained in "Asher Yatzar." By reciting it, we focus on the beauty and glory of being alive. That knowledge, deep and incredible, directs us:
Always protect our bodies and to never do anything that would endanger it. Never. Ever.
They are a gift from God. They don't have to work. If they don't, we die. God in the Torah commands us: "Choose life, and live!" In holding our granddaughter, looking at our four children, including our daughter-in-law as our own, looking at my mother and aunt, who God willing, will celebrate their 80th and 90th birthdays respectively, I was completely and indelibly impressed with these thoughts.

But I was provoked to share this thoughts with you and particularly this text not only out of my Thanksgiving experience, but also because of a tragedy that befell one of my classmates from both undergraduate and Rabbinical school days. Name and place need not be mentioned. In my naivete I only knew "mushrooms" referred to which that Ruby cooked or put in salad, or those that grew wild in my lawn. I didn't know what the slang "shrooms" meant: a hallucinogenic, illegal drug. My classmate's son, a senior in college, with a promising career, died, because taking "shrooms" led to actions which killed him. Reaching far beyond his family, to the community of people far away like me who knew him and his parents, has been an extended web of pain and grief, and introspection. It has been very eerie for me, to have held Ariel with the reflections I have shared, and to have received this terrible news. My reflections connected this prayer, and these two lives. I then felt the imperative to share these following thoughts from the depth of our religion and faith and the depth of my heart.

Reciting this prayer every morning, and accepting entirely in my heart, its words leads me to literally watch my step, to read the science pages in the newspaper, think about the earthquake, drive more carefully, and watch my calories, cholesterol and triglycerides with more vigilance. Reading the information panel on food packaging is a somewhat religious act. Getting an annual physical and walking are truly mitzvot. And to unequivocally say:
Taking drugs, illegal and not prescribed by a doctor, is a sin.
As we don't use that word too much, maybe I should, using it now indicates the severity and gravity of the matter.

A commandment, up there with the other ten, is for us to have the moral authority from our own behavior - to live by what we say. It is truthful to say, that from the hashkafah, the worldview of Judaism, we are commanded to instruct our children and grandchildren, that using drugs is a sin, not because some legislatures outlaw it,
But because it destroys this pristine, precious and inscrutable divine imbued human body.
If common sense cannot direct us, at least let us be sensitized to our miraculous existence by the words of this prayer.
More marvelous that science can unravel,
with more capacity that most computers,
with more spiritual complexity than anything else in existence,
this vehicle of life, our body, its proper working is so precarious!
Compounded by the knowledge that even a long life is short, endangering an otherwise healthy and well-functioning human body through the use of drugs must be the most grievous sin of all. It goes hand in hand with smoking and intoxication, especially when driving, thus endangering others.

So let me conclude by asking the hard questions, which I have answered for myself in my own life, by my own behavior and by my own words:
Do we model proper behavior before our children?
Have you sensitized your children to the beauty of life?
By showing them the world of nature,
By taking them to the zoo,
By looking at works of art,
By looking at the architecture of buildings,
By talking about their own bodies?
Have you unambiguously and straightforwardly told your children not to take drugs?
Have you made sure that they are not in your homes?
Have you instilled in your children the moral backbone to say "no",
to this as well as other life-risking behavior?
Do you say to yourself and to them:
life is precious, grasp it tight, wring from it the promise of every moment?

May we be blessed to hold our dear ones near.
May we look forward and backward with an inner glow and satisfaction.
May we hear the breathing of our children and grandchildren in our ears,
In happiness, in contentment and in health.