I was never known
as a great singer. In fact, I could hardly hold a tune for
most of my life. Many times when I tried to sing my throat
would tighten, my ears wouldn’t hear what I was singing,
and it seemed better for all if I kept my mouth shut.
Over the years my lack of singing
ability bothered me, but it wasn’t important enough
to do anything about it. Life went on, and when I was in
social situations where singing was required, I kept a
low profile.
In the spring of 1999 I was asked
by a close friend to chant a blessing at her upcoming wedding.
It was a relatively short blessing out of seven (called shevah brachot in
Hebrew) that are traditionally chanted under the wedding
canopy at Jewish weddings. Knowing that I would have
plenty of time to prepare, and that I always felt good singing
Hebrew prayers, I felt confident that I would do a good job
the day of the wedding.
I practiced the fourth blessing so many times that I could
chant it in my sleep. When the day of the wedding arrived,
I had no doubt that I would do a fine job.
The wedding took place at Neot
Kedumim, the Biblical landscape reserve midway between
Tel Aviv and Jerusalem in the Judean foothills (plants
from Biblical times dot the landscape along with quotes
from the Bible that mentioned them). As the day was coming
to a close, the ceremony progressed with me confidently
waiting for my cue to chant the fourth blessing. To my
utter disbelief, someone else was called up to chant it!
I looked at my friend with desperate, questioning eyes.
She shrugged her shoulders saying without words, “I don’t
know what happened!”
My confidence was shattered. I was going to have to
do another blessing. Even though I spoke fluent Modern
Hebrew, the blessings are in Biblical Hebrew. There
was no way that I could easily and quickly do another one
on the fly.
Before I knew it I was called up to do the seventh blessing.
This is the longest of them all, and the one reserved for
someone gifted with a fine singing voice. I could not believe
that I was standing next to the rabbi with the ceremonial
cup of wine in one hand, a microphone in front of my face,
as a crowd of well over 100 people (including a supreme court
judge) waited for the blessing rendered in a magnificent
voice. Was this a sick cosmic joke?
With nowhere to run or hide, I began by stumbling over the
first words of the blessing. The rabbi immediately
saw that I was in deep trouble. He graciously whispered
the words to me as I continued to stumble through the seventh
blessing, the highlight of them all.
Before I knew it I ended the blessing.
The ceremony quickly came to a close and the happy couple
was escorted away by a joyous crowd to begin their life
as husband and wife alone in a private room. Some friends
came over and commented on my “performance.” They
humorously congratulated me on my rendering of the seventh
blessing. Later on the bride’s father made a
point of letting me know what a lousy job I did!
I could have reacted in a number of ways. Some obvious
options were self-pity, rejection, condemnation and acute
embarrassment. Lo and behold, none of them arose within
me. To my delight and surprise, I found myself laughing
at myself and the situation. Where did this ability
to laugh at myself and the cosmic set-up come from?
It came from my hard-earned faith in the Creator and what
He had brought into my life. I had done enough work
to reject the ingrained notion of a judgmental God waiting
to punish me for any transgression. I knew that the
Creator was a loving God who only wanted the best for each
of us.
I was given a potentially embarrassing, if not devastating
experience, to give me the chance to choose love and laughter
over fear and self-pity. In that moment I saw that
I had gained another level of freedom from the tyranny of
negative beliefs about myself and God. I came to cherish
the entire experience and what it showed me.
A few nights later the couple celebrated
their wedding at a friend’s house (observant Jews
celebrate shevah
brachot, i.e., seven nights
of celebration after the wedding where friends and family
host the couple and the shevah
brachot are repeated each
night). When it was time for the fourth blessing, the cup
of wine was passed to me. I recited it perfectly in a powerful,
commanding voice. The room broke into applause when I finished.
I smiled from ear to ear and took a small bow. Oh, how
sweet freedom can be!
