Shulchan Arukh, Orach Chayim 128:37-39

Hey there, future Jewish home-builders! Are you ready to dive into some serious campfire Torah with grown-up legs? I can practically smell the s'mores and hear the crackle of the fire, can't you? Tonight, we're not just sharing stories; we're uncovering ancient wisdom that can light up your very own homes, just like those stars used to light up our camp nights!

Hook

Alright, close your eyes for a second. Can you hear it? That gentle strumming of a guitar, the hushed anticipation, the scent of pine needles and damp earth after a summer rain. It’s Friday night at camp, the sun has dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in fiery oranges and soft purples. We’re all gathered, probably on benches or logs, around the blazing campfire for Kabbalat Shabbat. The counselors are leading a niggun, a wordless melody that swells and fills the air, connecting us all, heart to heart.

(Imagine a simple, soulful two-note niggun, rising and falling gently, like a slow breath. Hum: Mmmm-mmm, mmmm-mmm, mmmm-mmm, mmmm-mmm...)

And then, it happens. The moment before the Kiddush, or perhaps during a special Havdalah ceremony at the end of a magical week. The call goes out, not for "Kohanim," but for everyone to participate in a blessing. Maybe it’s a friendship circle, where we place our hands on the shoulders of the person in front of us, feeling the warmth and support of our bunkmates. Or maybe it’s a moment of collective intention, where we all raise our hands, palms open, not in the traditional priestly gesture, but in a gesture of receiving, of openness, ready to soak in the holiness of Shabbat.

You feel it, don't you? That electric current of ruach—spirit—moving through the circle. You're not just a kid from home; you're part of something ancient, something sacred, something bigger than yourself. Your hands, usually busy with crafts or canoeing, are now channels for connection, for blessing. You feel seen, you feel loved, you feel… blessed. That feeling, that powerful, tangible sense of shared blessing and presence, that's what we're tapping into tonight. It's the grown-up version of that campfire glow, illuminating the profound depths of our tradition, and specifically, the incredible power and responsibility of Birkat Kohanim, the Priestly Blessing.

That memory of feeling the ruach when everyone’s hands are joined or raised in a circle, that deep sense of communal connection and receiving, is exactly what we’re going to explore tonight. Because, believe it or not, the intricate rules of the Shulchan Arukh about how Kohanim bless us are designed to channel that very same powerful energy, that same profound blessing, into our lives. It's about how we, as individuals and as communities, become conduits for divine love and goodness. And guess what? It has everything to do with our hands, our presence, and our willingness to be part of something truly holy.

Context

Tonight, we're taking a deep dive into a cornerstone of Jewish practice, one that many of us might only glimpse from a distance in synagogue, or perhaps hear about in stories: Birkat Kohanim, the Priestly Blessing. It's a moment pregnant with meaning, where the descendants of Aaron, the Kohanim, stand before the congregation and, with outstretched hands, channel God’s blessing down to the people. It's one of the oldest and most enduring rituals in Judaism, a direct link back to the Temple service and even to the very words God commanded Moses to teach Aaron and his sons in the Book of Numbers: "May God bless you and guard you; may God shine His face upon you and be gracious to you; may God lift His face to you and grant you peace." (Numbers 6:24-26).

• A River of Blessing from Ancient Springs: Think of Birkat Kohanim as a powerful, ancient river that flows directly from the springs of Sinai, through generations of Kohanim, right into our lives today. Just as a pristine river brings life and sustenance to everything along its banks, this blessing is meant to nourish our souls, our families, and our communities. The Kohanim are not the source of the blessing, but rather the pure, unobstructed channels through which God’s infinite goodness pours forth. Their role is to ensure that this sacred river flows freely, without impediment, directly to us, the thirsty spiritual travelers. They are the living connection to a tradition that began with Aaron himself, and their specific actions and preparations ensure the blessing's integrity, purity, and power. It's a moment when the spiritual and the physical realms intertwine, where human hands become conduits for divine grace.

• The Sacred Duty of the Kohen: Being a Kohen isn't just a genealogical marker; it's a sacred calling, a role imbued with immense responsibility and honor. Our text today, from the Shulchan Arukh, dives into the nitty-gritty details of this unique service. It outlines not just how the blessing is performed – the hand gestures, the timing, the interaction with the chazzan (prayer leader) and the congregation – but also, perhaps even more powerfully, who is eligible to perform it, and the serious ramifications for a Kohen who doesn't step up to this holy task. This isn't just about ritual; it's about the very essence of spiritual leadership and the profound impact one individual's actions (or inactions!) can have on an entire community. The Kohen is tasked with embodying sanctity, with being prepared, both physically and spiritually, to bring God's presence into the lives of others. It's a public service, a communal gift, and a personal obligation all rolled into one sacred moment.

• More Than Just Words: A Full-Body Experience: Birkat Kohanim is far from a passive recitation. It's an active, embodied ritual, a symphony of movement, intention, and sound. From the specific washing of the hands, to the careful positioning on the duchan (platform), to the intricate "Kohen hands" (you know, the Vulcan salute!), and the precise call-and-response with the chazzan, every detail is designed to maximize the flow of blessing. Our text emphasizes the importance of kavanah, of focused intention, for both the Kohanim and the congregation. It's a moment where all distractions are to be set aside, where eyes are lowered, and hearts are open. It’s a spiritual workout for everyone involved, ensuring that the blessing isn’t just heard, but deeply felt and absorbed into the very fiber of our beings. This isn't just a blessing from God; it's a blessing through the Kohanim, received by the people, and experienced by everyone present. It’s a communal embrace, a moment of profound spiritual communion, carefully choreographed to bring maximum divine light into our world.

Text Snapshot

Let's zoom in on a few powerful lines from our text, Shulchan Arukh, Orach Chayim 128:37-39:

"Any Kohen who does not have one of the things that prevent [him from performing Birkat Kohanim] — if he does not ascend to the platform, even though he has [only] forfeited one positive commandment, it is as if he has violated three positive commandments...

...However, if he is 'broken in' in his city, meaning that they are used to him and everyone is familiar that he has this defect, he may raise his hands, even if he is blind in both eyes...

...A Kohen who has killed a person, even unintentionally, may not lift his hands [to perform the priestly blessing]... Some say that if he has repented, he may lift his hands, and there is ground to be lenient regarding those who have repented, so as not to lock the door before them. And so is the custom."

Close Reading

Insight 1: The Weight of the Blessing – Responsibility and Presence

Woah, did you catch that? "Any Kohen who does not ascend to the platform… it is as if he has violated three positive commandments!" This isn't just a gentle nudge; it's a spiritual earthquake! Three positive commandments! What could possibly make the inaction of a Kohen so profoundly weighty? This isn't a transgression of doing something wrong; it's a transgression of not doing something right. It speaks volumes about the profound responsibility inherent in being a Kohen, and by extension, about the sacred obligation we all have to bring blessing into the world.

Let's break it down, camp-style. Remember at camp how everyone had a job? Maybe you were on KP duty, or responsible for setting up the campfire, or leading a bunk activity. Imagine if it was your turn to lead the evening talent show, and you just… didn't show up. The whole camp would be waiting! The stage would be empty! The ruach would fizzle! It wouldn't just be a missed opportunity; it would be a letdown for the entire community. It's not just that you missed out on performing; it's that the entire camp missed out on the joy and connection you were meant to bring.

Now, elevate that to the spiritual plane. The Kohen isn't just performing a ritual; they are literally channeling God's blessing to the people. This is a moment of direct divine emanation, a time when the heavens open, and goodness flows. When a Kohen could be a conduit for this immense spiritual energy but chooses not to, it's not merely a personal omission. It's like a spiritual dam being built, preventing that river of blessing from reaching the thirsty souls waiting below. The Shulchan Arukh is saying that this non-action isn't neutral; it's an active obstruction of divine flow. It’s not just one mitzvah of blessing, but the cumulative effect of withholding that blessing from a hundred, or a thousand, or ten thousand people who are ready to receive it. It's a spiritual vacuum where profound good was meant to be.

The text specifies that this severe consequence applies "if he was in the synagogue when they called 'Kohanim' or if they told him to go up or to wash his hands." This isn't about a Kohen who genuinely can't make it to synagogue or isn't aware; it's about the Kohen who is present, who hears the call, who is capable, and yet refuses. It's a powerful lesson in showing up. In our grown-up lives, how often do we hear the call to bring a blessing, to offer support, to lend a hand, to share our unique gifts, and yet we hesitate, we shrink back, we find an excuse?

Think about your home, your family, your community. You, my friend, are also a Kohen in your own sphere. You have unique blessings to offer – your patience, your humor, your wisdom, your kindness, your creative spirit. When your child needs a patient ear, when your partner needs understanding, when a friend needs a comforting presence, when your community needs your volunteer energy, that’s your "Kohanim!" moment. If you're physically present but emotionally absent, scrolling on your phone while your child tries to share their day, are you truly "ascending the platform"? Are you being a channel for blessing, or are you inadvertently "violating three positive commandments" of connection and presence?

This insight pushes us beyond passive participation into active engagement. It challenges us to recognize the profound power we each hold to uplift and bless those around us. It's about being available to be a vessel for good. The Kohen's hands, outstretched and separated, are a physical manifestation of this openness, this willingness to be a channel. In our own lives, our hands can be open to give, to comfort, to create, to bless. The consequence for the Kohen who withholds his blessing reminds us that our presence, our active engagement, and our willingness to share our gifts are not just nice gestures; they are sacred duties that nourish the very soul of our families and communities. It's a call to proactive goodness, to ensure that the river of blessing that flows through us never runs dry for those who need it most.

(Let's try that niggun again, but this time, imagine it as a flow of blessing through your hands, out to the world. Hum: Bracha, Bracha, Yeshua! Bracha, Bracha, Yeshua! (Blessing, Blessing, Salvation/Help!))

Insight 2: Embracing Imperfection – "Broken In" and Repentance

This is where the Torah truly meets us where we live, and where "campfire Torah" gets its grown-up legs! The text presents a long list of physical "defects" that would disqualify a Kohen: "bohakniyot" (white lesions), "akumot" (crooked hands), "akushot" (bent fingers), spittle on the beard, tearing eyes, being blind in one eye. The reason? "Because the congregation will stare at it." The Kohen is meant to be a dignified, unobstructed channel for blessing, and physical anomalies might distract the congregation, pulling their focus away from the divine message and onto the human messenger. It's about ensuring the blessing is received with full kavanah (intention).

But then, the Shulchan Arukh throws us a beautiful curveball, a profound lesson in radical acceptance and community! "However, if he is 'broken in' in his city, meaning that they are used to him and everyone is familiar that he has this defect, he may raise his hands, even if he is blind in both eyes." Wow! This is huge! It tells us that while physical perfection might be an ideal, communal acceptance and familiarity can override even significant physical challenges. The term "broken in" (מרוסק) evokes something that has become accustomed, integrated, part of the fabric. It’s like a well-worn path in the woods – it might be bumpy, but everyone knows it, and it still leads to where you need to go.

Think back to camp. Remember that kid who might have had a limp, or a noticeable birthmark, or spoke with a stutter? Maybe on day one, a few kids stared. But after a week, after 30 days (the text's exact measure for being "broken in"), everyone knew them. They were just Sarah, or David, or Michael. Their "defect" became just another part of their unique charm, their story. The community's familiarity and acceptance meant that their "defect" no longer distracted; it was simply part of who they were, and no longer an impediment to their participation, to their ability to bring their unique light to the group. The power of human connection transcends perceived imperfections.

This is a monumental lesson for our homes and our lives. How often do we, or others, hold back from fully participating, from offering our unique blessings, because of perceived "defects"? Perhaps it's a social anxiety, a learning disability, a physical challenge, or even just a quirky personality trait. We fear that others will "stare," that our imperfections will overshadow our contributions. But the Shulchan Arukh tells us that within a loving, accepting community—a "broken in" community—these barriers fall away. Our homes should be the ultimate "broken in" communities, places where every family member is known, accepted, and loved for exactly who they are, flaws and all. When we create such a space, everyone feels empowered to "raise their hands" and bring their full, authentic selves and their unique blessings to the family table. It’s about cultivating an environment of unconditional acceptance, where familiarity breeds not contempt, but profound love and belonging.

But the text doesn't stop there. It tackles moral and spiritual "defects" as well, and here, the concept of teshuvah (repentance) shines as a beacon of hope. "A Kohen who has killed a person, even unintentionally, may not lift his hands... Some say that if he has repented, he may lift his hands, and there is ground to be lenient regarding those who have repented, so as not to lock the door before them. And so is the custom." And similarly, for an "apostate [that converted] to idol worship... And there are some who say that if he has repented, he may lift his hands (and this is primary ruling)."

Let's unpack this with the help of our commentaries. The original ruling for a Kohen who killed, even unintentionally, was quite stringent – no Birkat Kohanim. The reasoning is complex, often tied to the Kohen's unique role as a conduit for holiness and life. A Kohen, by definition, is meant to bring life and blessing, and spilling blood, even accidentally, might compromise that spiritual integrity. However, the Rema (Rabbi Moshe Isserles), in his gloss to the Shulchan Arukh, brings down the custom to be lenient if the Kohen has repented. This is a critical development, reflecting a deep theological principle: teshuvah has the power to heal, to transform, and to restore. The phrase "so as not to lock the door before them" is incredibly profound. It means that even for the most grievous of offenses, Judaism believes in the possibility of return, of renewal, of reintegration. We don't permanently excommunicate someone who sincerely seeks to atone.

The discussion around the "mumar" (apostate) is even more intricate, as detailed by the Magen Avraham and Mishnah Berurah. The Magen Avraham delves into the precise definition of a "mumar" versus someone who actively performed idolatry, and even whether being forced into idolatry disqualifies a Kohen. He discusses the Rambam's view, which was initially quite stringent, potentially even for someone forced into idolatry or who had repented. The Magen Avraham then challenges the Bach's question about why certain disqualifications for temple service (like being uncircumcised) don't apply to Birkat Kohanim. His brilliant insight, rooted in the Gemara, is that we generally only compare Birkat Kohanim to temple service for leniency, not for stringency! So, if a Kohen is "uncircumcised because his brothers died when they were circumcised" (a tragic historical context where parents might delay circumcision due to a genetic condition), the Magen Avraham argues he can still do Birkat Kohanim because we lean towards leniency where possible.

The Mishnah Berurah clarifies the Rema's lenient stance on the apostate: "even if he served idolatry intentionally." He also extends the concept of "mumar" to include "one who profanes Shabbat publicly," equating them to an idolater for this purpose, but still affirms that if they repent, they may bless. This collective custom, articulated by the Rema and supported by the Magen Avraham and Mishnah Berurah, emphasizes that teshuvah is a powerful cleanser, restoring one's spiritual eligibility.

This is the ultimate camp lesson in second chances. Remember the kid who broke a rule, felt terrible, and then sincerely apologized? We didn't kick them out of camp forever! We embraced them, helped them learn from their mistake, and let them rejoin the games, the songs, the ruach. Teshuvah is that pathway back. It's the understanding that our past mistakes, however large, do not permanently define our capacity for goodness or our ability to be a channel for blessing. Judaism is a religion of endless opportunities for growth and repair. It teaches us that our essence, our neshamah (soul), remains pure, and that through sincere regret, resolution, and action, we can always reconnect with that purity and fulfill our sacred roles.

In our family lives, this translates to radical forgiveness and the belief in personal growth. When a family member makes a mistake, sometimes a big one, do we "lock the door before them"? Do we hold grudges that prevent them from fully participating, from bringing their unique blessings back to the family unit? Or do we create a space for teshuvah, for repair, for reintegration? This insight reminds us that our homes and communities should be places where people are not only "broken in" – accepted for their inherent being – but also forgiven for their missteps, and empowered to return, to repent, and to continue to be sources of blessing. It's a powerful call to compassion, understanding, and the unwavering belief in the human capacity for change and renewal. The Birkat Kohanim isn't just about perfect people; it's about a perfect God blessing an imperfect people, through imperfect, yet striving, channels.

Micro-Ritual

Alright, my friends, now it's time to bring these powerful insights from the Shulchan Arukh right into your own homes, your own family campfires! We're going to take the essence of the Kohen's responsibility, presence, intention, and the incredible power of communal acceptance and teshuvah, and weave it into your everyday (or every Shabbat!) life. No need for a duchan or special robes, just an open heart and a willingness to create sacred space.

Friday Night: The Family Blessing Flow

Friday night is the perfect time to infuse your home with extra kedushah (holiness) and blessing, echoing the profound intention of Birkat Kohanim.

• Option 1: Intentional Hand-Washing & Personalized Blessing

  • The "Why": The Shulchan Arukh meticulously details the Kohen's hand-washing, even if they'd washed earlier, ensuring ritual purity and focus. This isn't just about cleanliness; it's about preparing the hands, the conduits of blessing, with intention. We can bring this focus to our own Friday night netilat yadayim (hand-washing).
  • How to Do It:
    1. Preparation (Hachana): Before HaMotzi, gather everyone around the sink. Have a special pitcher and basin, perhaps, to elevate the moment.
    2. The Ritual: Instead of everyone washing their own hands, make it a communal act of service and blessing. One person (perhaps a parent, or siblings taking turns) pours water over another's hands, up to the wrist, just like the Levi pouring for the Kohen.
    3. The Words: As the water is poured, the "washer" can say, "May your hands be sanctified to bring blessing to our home this Shabbat," or a similar personalized blessing. The "washed" person might respond with "Amen" or "Thank you." Then, the blessing for hand-washing, Al Netilat Yadayim, can be recited by the person whose hands were washed.
    4. Kavanah (Intention): Encourage everyone to think about their hands: What blessings do they bring? How do they connect us? How can they be channels for kindness and love in the week to come? This transforms a mundane act into a moment of sacred preparation and inter-family blessing, echoing the Kohen's readiness to channel divine grace.

• Option 2: "Family Duchening" – The Birkat HaBanim (Blessing for Children)

  • The "Why": This ritual directly mirrors the Birkat Kohanim by having parents act as conduits of blessing for their children. The traditional Birkat HaBanim (blessing for children) uses the very words of the Priestly Blessing. The Kohen's outstretched hands, with fingers separated to form five spaces, symbolize the multi-faceted nature of God’s blessing.
  • How to Do It:
    1. Gathering: Before Kiddush, or at the Shabbat table, have children (and even adults!) gather around the parent(s) for a special blessing.
    2. The Gesture: The parent(s) places their hands on each child's head, or if blessing multiple children, extends their hands in front of them, mimicking the Kohen's gesture (fingers separated, palms facing down, bringing the blessing down).
    3. The Words: Recite the traditional Birkat HaBanim (May God make you like Ephraim and Menashe for boys, like Sarah, Rivka, Rachel, and Leah for girls), followed by the full Priestly Blessing: "Y'varekhekha Adonai v'yishm'rekha. Ya'er Adonai panav eilekha v'yikhuneka. Yisah Adonai panav eilekha v'yasem l'kha shalom." (May God bless you and guard you. May God make His face shine upon you and be gracious to you. May God lift His face to you and grant you peace.)
    4. Kavanah (Intention): As you say the blessing, focus on each child, wishing them health, happiness, peace, and success. Feel the ancient words flowing through you, connecting your child to generations of blessing. For the children, encourage them to close their eyes, feel the parent's hands, and imagine soaking in the love and peace. This ritual fosters a profound sense of security, love, and connection, making parents active channels for divine blessing, just like the Kohanim in synagogue. It brings the power of "not locking the door" and "being broken in" into the family, affirming that each member, in their unique way, is a source of blessing.

Havdalah: Light, Scent, and Future Blessings

Havdalah, the closing ceremony of Shabbat, is a perfect time to carry the spirit of blessing forward into the new week, acknowledging our imperfections and our potential for teshuvah.

• Option 1: The Flame of Intention

  • The "Why": The Havdalah candle, with its multiple wicks, symbolizes the light of creation and the distinctions we make in life. The Kohen's hands are outstretched, aiming to create five distinct spaces. We can use the Havdalah flame to symbolize the focused intention needed to channel blessing.
  • How to Do It:
    1. The Ritual: After the Havdalah candle is lit, and before the blessing over the light, each family member takes a turn placing their hands close to the flame, palms facing down, as if receiving its warmth and light. Encourage them to separate their fingers slightly, mimicking the Kohen's gesture.
    2. The Words (or Silence): As they do this, they can silently, or aloud, articulate one blessing they hope to bring into the world or receive in the coming week. It could be for peace, for strength, for a particular project, or for a family member. "May my hands be strong for kindness this week," or "May I be a channel for peace."
    3. Kavanah (Intention): Focus on the light as a source of divine energy and blessing. Imagine that light filling your hands, empowering them to perform acts of goodness. This ritual connects the physical act of "raising hands" to the spiritual act of receiving and channeling blessing, preparing us to be present and intentional in the week ahead.

• Option 2: Scent of Renewal and Teshuvah

  • The "Why": The fragrant spices of Havdalah are meant to revive our souls as Shabbat departs. Just as teshuvah revives a Kohen's eligibility, these spices can symbolize our spiritual renewal and our capacity to overcome past mistakes.
  • How to Do It:
    1. The Ritual: After the blessing over the spices, instead of just smelling them individually, make it a shared moment. Pass the spice box around. As each person takes a deep inhale of the fragrant spices, encourage them to exhale slowly, imagining they are "blowing out" any worries, regrets, or imperfections from the past week (a mini teshuvah moment).
    2. The Words: As they exhale, they can gently blow towards another family member, silently or audibly saying, "May you be filled with new strength and joy this week," or "May all your paths be blessed with peace." This is a tangible way to share the sweetness of new beginnings and to offer blessings to one another, acknowledging that we all have moments we need to "blow away" and renew.
    3. Kavanah (Intention): Connect the scent to the idea of a fresh start, the opportunity for teshuvah each week. Just as the Kohen who has repented can still bless, so too can we, after acknowledging our shortcomings, step into the new week with renewed spiritual vigor, ready to bring goodness. This ritual emphasizes the power of renewal and the community's role in supporting each other's journey of growth and teshuvah.

These micro-rituals are designed to be flexible, adaptable, and deeply personal. They take the powerful, intricate halakhot of Birkat Kohanim and translate them into accessible, meaningful practices that can transform your home into a vibrant center of blessing, presence, and acceptance. They are your family's own "campfire Torah" moments, lighting up your week with intention and connection.

Chevruta Mini

Alright, let's huddle up for a quick chevruta (study partner) moment. Grab a partner, or just take a quiet moment to reflect on these questions. No right or wrong answers, just honest exploration!

1. The Weight of Inaction: The Shulchan Arukh states that a Kohen who could bless but doesn't is considered to have violated "three positive commandments." This is a stark reminder of the profound impact of our presence and our willingness to share our unique gifts. Think about a time in your own life – in your family, community, or even professionally – when you felt the weight of not showing up, not offering a blessing, or not lending support when you could have. What was the impact of that inaction, both on yourself and on others? How does this teaching inspire you to be more proactively present in your "Kohanim moments"?
2. "Broken In" and Repentance: The text offers profound leniencies for Kohanim who are "broken in" (accepted by their community despite physical defects) or who have repented from serious transgressions. This highlights Judaism's incredible emphasis on acceptance, forgiveness, and the power of teshuvah. How can you actively cultivate a home or community environment where everyone feels truly "broken in"—accepted and valued for their unique self, flaws and all? And how can you apply the principle of "not locking the door before them" to foster forgiveness, growth, and second chances within your closest relationships, allowing everyone to continue to be a channel for blessing?

Takeaway

Wow, what a journey we've been on tonight! From the campfire glow of our camp memories to the ancient wisdom of the Shulchan Arukh, we've seen how the profound responsibility and sacred duty of Birkat Kohanim isn't just a ritual for a select few. It's a living, breathing lesson for all of us.

We learned about the immense power of presence and the spiritual cost of inaction – a reminder that our ability to show up, to be a channel for good, is a sacred trust. And then, like a warm hug after a long day, we discovered the radical inclusivity of "being broken in" and the transformative power of teshuvah. Judaism teaches us that our imperfections, whether physical or spiritual, don't disqualify us from bringing blessing into the world. In fact, within a loving, accepting community, those very "flaws" can become part of our unique story, making our blessings even more authentic and powerful. And through repentance, no door is ever truly locked.

So, as you go forth from our virtual campfire, remember that you, too, are a Kohen in your own right. You are a conduit for blessing, equipped with unique gifts, and surrounded by opportunities to bring light and peace into your home and community. Don't shrink back from your "Kohanim!" moments. Embrace your imperfections, extend forgiveness, and always, always keep your hands open—ready to give, to receive, and to channel that ancient, life-giving river of blessing into the world.

(Let's hum that niggun one more time, but this time, let it feel like a gentle, empowering send-off, carrying the blessing with you. Hum: Bracha, Bracha, Yeshua! Bracha, Bracha, Yeshua!)

May your homes be filled with bracha, with peace, and with the joyful ruach that connects us all. Keep that campfire glow burning bright! L'hitraot!