And during those three days, everybody in the village walks by and tells him every about every good thing that he did in his life that they remember. For three solid days.

Do you know what the recidivism rate is in that village?

Zero.

So I ask myself,

What would happen if I were careful with my words?

If I understood the power of my words to hurt, to kill or to heal?

How carefully would I choose my words?

How mindful would I be with the gift of speech given to me by the Creator?

Can we heal the wounds of the past like the people in that far away village, by reminding people of all the good they have done in their lives?

Can the good feelings we generate with our words reprogram the hurts, pains and beliefs that reside in our limbic systems?

I would like to conclude with a prayer for each of us from Lecha Dodi – Come out my Beloved

by Rabbi Shlomo HeLevi Alkabetz, that we sing on Friday nights. It is written about Yerushalayim but I think it applies to every one of us. I believe it’s a direct message from the Almighty, telling us how special we each are:

His’oreri His’oreri, ki va oreich kumi ori,

Uri, uri shir dabeiri, Kevod Ado-nai alayich niglah

Wake up, Wake up,

Your light has come, rise and shine.

Awaken, awaken, utter a song,

The glory of God is revealed upon you.

Question:

Uri, uri shir dabeiri . . . Awaken, awaken, utter a song,

Dabeiri is a harsh form of speech, not a melodious song.

The verse should read, Uri, uri, shir zameri – Awaken, awaken, sing a song.

Why is the word dabeiri used instead of zameiri – utter or speak a song?

Because when the glory of Hashem is revealed upon you, every word you speak will be like a song.

May we live to see the building of the Third Beis HaMikdash speedily in our days, when Tisha b’Av will be celebrated as a Yom Tov, a Joyous day instead of a day of mourning.

And may your every word be a song.

Dayeinu.

Copyright © 2011 by Harvey (Heshie) Klein, MD

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