Many peoples in many places use hands as a means of greeting, of blessing. This might be a little divisive—I was always a Star Wars girl myself—but even the Vulcans on Star Trek use a raised hand in a particular shape to give the call and response “Live long and prosper” and “Peace and long life.”
I’d like to look at the Priestly Benediction found in this week’s parsha—also called in Hebrew the Bircat Kohanim or Nesi’at Kapayim, the Lifting of the Hands. Maybe you grew up in a shul where the old men still did “duchanen.” Anyone? Hands?
I don’t get the feeling it was done here in recent history, but I could be wrong. I certainly didn’t grow up with it at my reform temple—the nineteenth century Reformers got rid of this cultic remnant quickly. I did not even hear of this ritual until I left for school.
Let’s learn how this blessing was done in the ancient Temple days and how it is still done now. This isn’t just a dry Torah text — it’s an incantation, a conductor of energy. How it is actively delivered is half of its mystery and power. It is truly the last vestige of the temple cult surviving into the modern day. There’s no more blood splattering around, no more showbread, but we cling to this sacred recitation. Why?
Okay, I know, what’s “duchanen?” Where does this Yiddish word come from?
In the ancient times, on the Temple Mount, as part of the very large structure, there was a Priestly Courtyard. As a sacred area, only the priests and Levites were allowed to enter—it was raised above the adjoining Israelite courtyard by several steps. In this Priestly Courtyard, there was also a raised platform called the Duchan—it sounds mysterious now, but it just means platform. It was here that the Levites played their music for the sacrifices, and the priests would offer their Priestly benediction every morning and evening as was the custom. So when we say, “Duchanen” we’re referring to the blessings given from that platform.
Today, the ceremony looks a little different. At the required time during the Service, the Levites of the congregation—male descendants of the Biblical tribe of Levi—ritually wash the hands of the Kohanim. Then the Kohanim remove their shoes, and walk up to the platform in front of the ark at the front of the synagogue. They cover their heads with their talleisim, they recite the blessing over the performance of the mitzvah, turn to face the congregation, and then the chazzan slowly and hopefully melodiously recites the three-verse blessing “Yvarechecha…” etc. with the Kohanim repeating it word by word after the cantor. It’s a slow process.
But here’s the thing. Throughout this blessing, you are not supposed to look at them nor they you.
They aren’t expected to memorize this, each word is meticulously chanted. After each verse, the congregation responds, “Amen.” I found out that you only recite Kein Y’hi Ratzon if non-Kohanim are reciting this blessing. Kohanim get an Amen. The more you know!
During this time of blessing, the men descended from the Cohanim place their hands into a very specific kind of shape, (demonstrate) which looks like the letter Shin.
We know that the priests were supposed to “lift” up their hands because that is what Aaron was commanded to do in Leviticus 9:22, “And Aaron lifted his hands towards the people and blessed them.” But where did spreading the fingers to make the sacred sign come from?
Rabbi Yehudah Sherpin teaches: The Midrash explains that the Shechinah—the divine (feminine) presence, peers through the fingers of the Cohanim during the priestly blessing, in keeping with the verse, “…behold, He is standing behind our wall, looking from the windows, peering between the cracks.” From Song of Songs 2:9.
In Hebrew, those last words are מציץ מן החרכים– meitzit min ha-charakim. That last word, ha-charakim, can also be read as “five cracks in the wall.” That provides us the clue to the common form by which the Cohanim hold out their hands—it’s in order to have a total of five separations between the fingers: One space below and between the thumbs, another two spaces between the thumb and first finger of each hand, and another two between the third and fourth finger of each hand.4
Looks familiar, doesn’t it? There’s a reason why I brought up the Vulcans. Early on in the run of the original Star Trek, there came an episode where they decided they needed a Vulcan salute in one scene. The writers tried things, the producers tried others, nothing felt right, and finally, Leonard Nimoy said, “I have an idea.” And he raised his hand like this (demonstrate).
As a child, Nimoy’s grandfather had taken him to an Orthodox synagogue where he witnessed this very blessing, and—being a child and curious about everything around him—he couldn’t resist peeking through the cracks of his fingers to see what they were doing. Fitting, that.
Now, before the Cohanim are able to perform Duchanen, like everything in Judaism they must recite a bracha for the mitzvah.
The blessing that the Kohanim recite before performing the mitzvah of Birkas Kohanim is as follows: Blessed are You Adonai, our G-d, King of the universe, Who has sanctified us with the holiness of Aaron, and has commanded us to bless His people Israel with love. Sounds nice, right?
The problem is this: nowhere in the Torah do we find that the Kohanim were commanded to bless the people with love!
You can go looking for it …go ahead, we’ll wait.
Oh, no, maybe you should try later. But you won’t find it, it is simply not there. This is entirely a later addition by the rabbis!
The Magen Avraham in Orach Chayim (128:18) explains that the addition of the phrase with love is based on a teaching of the Zohar (Naso 147b) that any Kohein who does not have love for the congregation or for whom the congregation has no love, may not raise his hand to bless the congregation. According to this interpretation, the words with love refer to the mutual love that the Kohanim and the people must have for each other.
There is simply no blessing without love. There is no drawing down or channelling of God’s beneficence with apathy, rote reading or detachment. In other words, well, words and gestures are empty motions without the depth of feeling, of meaning, of connection behind them.
I have a brief story about this.
Growing up at Congregation Beth Chaim, I had a wonderful, fun, warm and lively rabbi, Rabbi Eric Wisnia — his friends call him “The Wiz,” and believe me, we are all his friends. He just retired after around 40 years there. There’s nobody like him.
Each week, at the bar or bat mitzvah, Rabbi Wisnia would take the child in front of the open ark, place his heavy hands on their shoulders, and whisper something to them.
And nobody would ever say what it was the rabbi whispered to them!
If you asked a friend who had gone through it? “Wait and find out.”
Like little Leonard Nimoy, we just wanted to know what was going on up there.
Finally, it was the morning of my bat mitzvah. I confess, I don’t remember my portion, I don’t remember my party. I vaguely remember that my mother cried, I’m sure I told her not to. It’s all a blur.
But this I do recall clearly. After the readings, before the Torah was put away, I went to stand in front of the ark with the Wiz. All was quiet. I was finally going to know the secret words.
He towered over me in a black robe, but when I looked up, he had a huge Cheshire cat smile. I know I was relieved this was almost all done. Then he leaned down and whispered in my ear.
What was he going to say? What could it possibly mean? Would I even understand it?
He said, “Kid, I’m going to tell you something. This next blessing can really only be given by someone who loves you. Now don’t get me wrong, I like you a lot — but I don’t love you. This blessing may come through me, but it comes from everyone who loves you.”
And he proceeded to give the Priestly Benediction.
As Rabbi Shai Held writes, “We are not sources but channels of blessing. We do not create the goodness we bestow but rather pass it on. Good teachers, for example, know well that the Torah they teach is not theirs but God’s; they are a vehicle for Torah but not its source. Good parents know that the love they shower on their child is not ultimately something they themselves made; that love itself is a manifestation of divine grace. The parent’s task is not to manufacture love but to pass it on. To understand and internalize this is what allows us to remain genuine givers, to prevent our giving from yielding to a form of narcissism in which everything is ultimately about us.”
Rabbi Wisnia wanted me to know that he wasn’t self-centered enough to think that he alone, the rabbi or even everyone’s friend “THE WIZ” was the source of the blessing. He was a channel, a vessel for that blessing and that love. Some people, especially children, and even some rabbis, can get confused about that. As the rabbi, he was merely standing in for the people from whom those particular blessings flow.
In Midrash Tanchuma we read: “The House of Israel said to the Holy One, Blessed Be He, “Lord of the universe, You order the priests to bless us? We need only Your blessing. Look down from Your holy habitation and bless Your people.” The Holy One, Blessed Be He, replied, “Though I ordered the priests to bless you, I will stand together with them and bless you.” As the late Rabbi Jonathan Sacks noted, “It is not the priests who bless the people. Rather, it is through them that God blesses the people.”
We all have the chance to be that channel when we say these words to our loved ones. We all have the opportunity to draw down the shefa, the Kabbalistic conception of “flow” from above. You don’t have to be a cohen or a Levi. You don’t have to be a cantor or rabbi. You just have to be a mensch. And you just have to be present in the moment.
We can and do transmit blessings to our loved ones and dear ones. I’m here to remind you that blessings are real. God’s energy, emanations, shefa, is real. BUT we can only be part of that line of connection if we understand that all comes from above.
We can only see it through the cracks in the wall. We have to open our hands to let the light come through the cracks.
And so, I would like to end with the blessing itself for all of us. And remember the words of the Wiz, I like you guys a lot, but I don’t love you — so grab hands with someone who does nearby if you can. A little extra blessing can never hurt.
“May the Lord bless and protect you! “May the Lord shine His face upon you and be gracious to you! “May the Lord lift up His face toward you and grant you peace.”
In other words, live long and prosper, peace and long life.
Kein Y’hi Ratzon — may it be God’s will.