But we Jews take the opposite approach. We regard our ancestors as having been holier and loftier than we are. We trace our way backward to Sinai, and before that to the Patriarchs and Matriarchs.
We commence our prayers calling out to the G-d of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob and hope for the day we will see the fathers of our nation. We pray for Mashiach, who will come from the House of David and whose advent will be announced by the Prophet Elijah – not by the latest celebrity sensation or even a president or a prime minister.
If we raise our children with reverence for yesterday rather than adulation for the here and now and the future; if we raise them to give rather than to get, to honor rather than be honored; if we train them to put others first – particularly parents and grandparents, rabbis and teachers and elders of the community – then we can hope for a better present and future.
Some surely wonder whether asking for a berachah is itself a selfish act. Aren’t we saying, “Give me”?
Yes and no. Yes, we are asking, but for what are we asking? A berachah. The word itself testifies that there is a higher dimension to the gifts of life, and that those gifts are bestowed on us by G-d Himself. The gift of berachos demands that we prove ourselves worthy of Hashem’s bounty, that we recognize there are no entitlements, no free lunches.
As I write this, I’m busy completing my new book, Your Life Mission – Be a Blessing. Our Patriarch Abraham was the first to be charged with this mission: v’heyeh berachah – and be a blessing. Not be blessed, but be a blessing.
It follows, therefore, that when we ask for a blessing we are asking for the privilege of being a blessing – to our families, our people, the world, and ourselves. Can there be a more awesome calling than that?
G-d granted us the merit of being blessings. If we can do that, we will have fulfilled the purpose of our lives and we will know we made a difference and that the world has become at least somewhat better for our being here.
“Give me a blessing” is our clarion call. Give me a blessing so that I might become a blessing – a blessing to know and teach Torah, a blessing to give rather than to get, a blessing to bring healing rather than to acquire fame – a blessing to be a Jew and illuminate the world with G-d’s sacred light.
The little Panamanian girl knew something that many of our children have yet to learn. Sweetly and respectfully, without even knowing a language I understood, she asked for berachah.
She was not the only one. I could share with you many stories about those sweet children. A group of little boys, cousins ranging in age from 4 to 12, came over. They stood in line and each asked for a berachah. The oldest among them called them one by one and made certain their yarmulkes were properly on. They already knew I always asked for Jewish names. As they came close, they announced their names.
These boys had been playing ball when they spotted me sitting in the courtyard. They stopped their game and approached me for berachos!
And then the non-Jewish nanny who was watching all this came over. Not knowing English, she pointed to her head and bowed deeply. Of course I blessed her. She cried and cried with tears of gratitude.
I invite all my readers to absorb these stories and then ask themselves this question: “Will my children ask for a berachah?”