"Stop! Look! Concentrate!"
Sounds almost like what they drummed into us as kids -- the
formula before crossing the street. It isn't, but these words
are at least as important for your safety, that is, your
physiological well being.
"Only twenty seconds, six times a day..." Two minutes a day;
that's all it takes to do it right. Who can't spare two
minutes? For one's own sake?
For those of us who have ever experienced diarrhea, or its
opposite, the just-as-uncomfortable feeling of constipation;
for those of us who have ever suffered from urinary tract
infections, or stones (gravel) in the kidneys, hemorrhoids,
who have swallowed down the wrong way, or done anything to
make us aware of the processes of ingestion, digestion and
elimination, we know how to be grateful for the normal
routine when everything goes smoothly, when the channels that
should be open, open, and the valves that must keep things
shut are operating properly and we don't even think about
these bodily functions.
But we should. First of all, in a sense of gratitude to our
Creator, who made us operate in such a natural yet miraculous
manner that we don't even think about it; these are regulated
by automatic, involuntary reflexes in our body and hardly
require conscious thinking on our part.
Nowadays, in our harried, hectic world, we need reminders to
stop and think. And these are readily available. Who hasn't
seen the attractive Asher Yotzar posters, or the handy
wallet-size laminated cards with the printed text of this
very important prayer? Their purpose is to help us
concentrate, to tune in on our own bodies and exhibit the
minimum of appreciation and gratitude to the One Who created
them in such a marvelous fashion as to be self regulating.
These posters can be found prominently exhibited in many
public places where Jews pray and/or study, and can be
obtained for distribution or private use (see below).
There are stories behind this, which the reader will surely
find fascinating. Each mitzva, actually, has the power
to heal and save a Jew, if one latches on to it firmly, as
has been proven over and over. Perhaps, in the coming year,
we should take upon ourselves this very simple practice, of
saying "Asher Yotzar" with full concentration. After
all, what is two minutes a day in our lives? And the
benefits...
Let us go back to Biblical times, to Dovid Hamelech. It is
stated that at one time, a hundred young men were dying every
single day, and the king was deeply distressed. As head of
the Sanhedrin, he instituted the practice of reciting one
hundred blessings per day, many of which are incorporated in
our thrice-daily prayers and bircas hamozon etc. One
of these is the blessing over elimination. These hundred
blessings, singly and collectively, protect a person and are
a segula for good health. Chazal say so. And it is a
fact that the young men stopped dying.
R' Yechezkel Levinstein zt'l, the famous Mashgiach,
used to say that the miracle of these bodily processes is as
great as the exodus from Egypt. R' Yeruchom of Mir remarked
that if a person were to imagine to himself all the necessary
steps that accompany the ingestion of food until its proper
elimination, including digestion (distribution within the
body) and nourishment of all the cells and organs
respectively, he would be prompted to `send a letter home to
report that all had gone well' at the end of that process,
each time!
"He should not fling the blessing from his mouth," say
Chazal. And the Mishne Brura expands, "but should concentrate
upon the words and recite the blessing with composure." And
it is advisable to do so from a written text. "It is
forbidden to do anything else while reciting it," even a
casual act like drying one's hands, putting on a jacket,
walking, gesturing with hands or eyes, etc., so that this
blessing not appear offhand and incidental.
Shimshon Halperin has claimed the propagation of awareness
for this mitzva for himself -- and for Klall Yisroel --
and made it his `baby'. He has compiled articles, stories,
facts, and has printed up tens of thousands of A. Y. posters
and wallet-size cards for distribution. Beautifully
illustrated, graphically attractive, they come with English
commentary if desired, and can be ordered in Israel at 03-
5704633 and in New York at 914- 426-6188 for personal use or
distribution. Let us glimpse at some of his fascinating
material, one story of which we were privy to ourselves in a
first-hand account of a miracle, to be presented in a later
issue.
First, from his files: an [excerpted] article by Ted Roberts,
a nationally syndicated (U.S.) columnist whose work has
appeared in the New York Times, Hadassah Magazine, Wall
Street Journal etc.
It's two in the morning when I realize I am having a
`medical problem.' Let's just call it a stoppage or blockage.
My wife, an R.N., understands immediately, so off we are to
the Emergency Room. And so begins a week-long series of
excruciating `procedures.'
Procedures, I discover, is the medical community's favorite
word. It doesn't conjure up any image of blood, pain, or
tears. "Procedure? Sure, Doc. Let's do a procedure." He
didn't say cutting, slicing, splicing, sewing, cauterizing,
or removing. Such an unobtrusive word. "Let's do it."
After a short hospital stay and a week of painful probes that
you would only wish upon the commandant of Auschwitz, I come
home. It's supposed to be all over. I should be as free
flowing as a mountain stream winding its way to the sea. But
all of a sudden... the same problem arises again.
The nightlight is still on and one of my apertures appears to
be as blocked as Pharaoh's heart. What are my options? Back
to the E.R.? I won't hear of it. Then I spot it on the
bedside table. My son, impelled by a faith far stronger than
mine, sent it to me: a laminated, illustrated poster of the
Asher Yotzar blessing.
They say there are no athiests in foxholes, and at the
moment, there aren't any in this bedroom, either. I recite
the blessing. In fact, I say it twice: once in Hebrew and
once in English. The ardor and passion at the peak of my Yom
Kippur prayers don't compare to the devotion I am exhibiting
now. I ache. I speak out each word slowly. I want there to be
no misunderstanding of my plight. The Master Healer must have
a clear and comprehensive diagnosis.
And then it happens. RELIEF. The mounain stream is at last
one with the sea. No E.R. No medical `procedures.' The
Asher Yotzar is an engine of such power that it
reaches the sublime address with no waiting, no busy
signal.
That laminated, illustrated poster now hangs securely on my
bedroom wall. It reminds me of the wonder of it all. I admit
that the E.R. number is also scribbled on a pad and sits on
my night table, but it's well below the poster.
To be continued...
