Shabbat shalom!

Nearly two thousand years ago lived one of the greatest rabbis in our people’s history. He was a towering figure physically: some people called him Abba Aricha, meaning Abba the Tall, because apparently, he could’ve played for the Chicago Bulls. But he is commonly referred to in the Talmud as Rav.

Rav was born in the second century CE in Kafri, Babylonia, or modern day Iraq. As a young, budding scholar, he immigrated to Israel to learn with his uncle Chiya, and later under Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi, the great sage who edited the Mishna. Rav was so respected that even though he is technically an Amora, or in the second generational strata of scholars, his opinions are generally considered like that of a Tanna – an earlier and more authoritative opinion. He is the only Amora accorded that honor.

Rav matched his scholarship with communal leadership. Around 220 CE, Rav returned to Babylonia. He settled in Sura, establishing a bet din and an academy that would become a thriving Jewish community for nearly a millenia. Rav was also successful in business, apparently making some of his income with his brewery (Pes 107a) – maybe we call it the Brew-Rav-ry.

But I’d say that one of the rare qualities that he had was matching his intellect and his communal leadership with his Neshama – his deep, introspective spirituality. He was known for his skills in Aggadah – sharing moving speeches and stories – in addition to his expertise in Halacha, Jewish law.

Today, we read what may be one of Rav’s most famous teachings. It is a prayer from a section of the Talmud that shares all of the private prayers that rabbis would recite when they concluded their personal Amidah. And over the last 500 to 1,000 years, every month, on the shabbat morning before Rosh Chodesh, the new month, we read ALMOST his precise prayer.

Turn with me in your siddur to page 180.

(Read it aloud).

End of second line through end of fourth line are added, from velohey avoteinu until velivracha (end of line four) is an insertion of the siddur.

Insertion of yirat shamayim in siddur. (inserted it even though it gets mentioned at the end of the second last line.)

And at the end, in Talmud, it adds:

There are a number of themes worth highlighting here for a longer shiur. But the main piece that I want to pick up on is the broader theme that traditionally, on shabbat, we are not meant to ask God in our prayers for any of our personal needs. That, according to our rabbis, is a weekday thing. But on shabbat, we are meant to put our personal requests aside.

For example, there is a practice to not recite a mi sheberacha, or a prayer for healing for those who are ill on shabbat. But communities felt such a strong need to pray for the sick that we say the prayer, and yet we insert a short caveat. We say, shabbat hi milzok – God, we know that we’re not supposed to ask for your help today… and yet, urefuah kerova lavo – we hope that You will bring healing to this person. It is too important, we must pray for healing.

But in this monthly prayer anticipating Rosh Chodesh, the requests are unambiguous. There is no gloss, no edit.

We say, God, we have a new month that is coming. And we are praying, please, give us long life, give us peace, give us goodness, give us blessing, make us successful in business.

(It is maybe for this reason that the end of the original prayer of Rav is softened somewhat… when Rav says, kol mishalot, God, answer ALL of the requests of our hearts for good, here, it erases kol, and just asks God to fulfill our wishes).

Some rabbis suggest that the purpose of this entire page is to ensure that everyone attending shul on Shabbat would know when it is Rosh Chodesh this month – an update or announcement, don’t forget, Rosh Chodesh is on Monday and Tuesday (Shibbolei Haleket 170)!

But if that’s the case, this whole page could have been much shorter. We could have recited the one, singular line, making the announcement. Rosh chodesh Iyar, yihiyeh…

I think instead, our siddur includes Rav’s prayer because our ancestors did not want to let this moment pass us by. Every month, we are meant to take stock. And we do so on shabbat, when we have the time. To think back on what has been. And to hope, and to pray, that this upcoming month could be better.

I don’t know if Rav could have ever imagined, two thousand years ago, that his great great great great grandchildren would be in a world where not only his teachings and prayers are remembered, but that people study them on a thing called a smartphone, and on an app called Sefaria.

And yet, whatever crises that Rav was living through in his time, he would end EVERY one of his DAILY prayers – not just once a month, but daily, with this prayer. I won’t ask you to do this daily. But once a month, today, and around a month from now, and the next month – look back. Think about where you, and our community, and our world has been. Think ahead – where do you want us to be. And at some point, I encourage you to write out your own prayer. You never know who may read it two thousand years from now. May this upcoming month of Iyar bring all of us long life, goodness, peace, and blessing.

Shabbat shalom.