Media
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Hashkiveinu
Hashkiveinu (הַשְׁכִּיבֵנוּ), a Hebrew word that translates to "Lay us down," is a prayer recited during evening services (Maariv) and often before sleep. It is a poignant plea for peace and divine protection through the vulnerability of night.
Imagine the sun has dipped below the horizon, and shadows lengthen, bringing with them ancient fears of the unknown. In this liminal space between day and night, Hashkiveinu emerges as a lyrical call to the Divine. It asks G-d to spread over us a "Sukkah Sh'lomecha" – a shelter of peace, much like the temporary Sukkah booths built during the festival of Sukkot, symbolizing G-d's enveloping protection.
The prayer speaks to the deepest human longings for security and renewal. It requests not only a peaceful rest but also to be raised up again to life, refreshed and guided by good counsel. It seeks refuge from adversaries, both physical and spiritual ("the adversary," "plague, sword, famine, and sorrow"), asking to be shielded "in the shadow of Your wings."
More than just a petition for personal safety, Hashkiveinu carries a communal and even cosmic resonance. In some versions, it extends this divine canopy of peace over all of Israel and Jerusalem, envisioning a world enveloped in tranquility.
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Mi Shebeirach
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Lecha Dodi
Lecha Dodi (לְכָה דוֹדִי), meaning "Come, my Beloved," is more than a song; it's a mystical, poetic invitation that bridges the mundane week with the sanctity of Shabbat. Penned in the 16th century by the Kabbalist Rabbi Shlomo Halevi Alkabetz in the spiritual enclave of Tzfat (Safed), Israel, this hymn has become a cherished and universal highlight of Friday evening services, known as Kabbalat Shabbat ("Receiving the Sabbath").
The verses of Lecha Dodi are woven with biblical allusions and a deep yearning for redemption and renewal. They speak of shaking off the dust of the weekday world, adorning oneself in garments of glory, and awakening to the light and splendor that Shabbat ushers in. There's a palpable sense of anticipation, not just for the weekly rest, but for a future, ultimate redemption, a messianic era when the world will be "wholly Sabbatical."
The poem itself is an acrostic, with the first letter of the initial eight stanzas spelling out the author's name, Shlomo HaLevi. As the final verses are sung, it is customary for many congregations to turn and face the entrance of the synagogue, as if to physically welcome the Sabbath Queen as she arrives in all her glory.