Mach a Bracha

Until now, I have been somewhat out of the Jewish music loop. But when one's baby demands music, all the time, and Elmo is the devil incarnate (his cackling laugh, shiver), one becomes reacquainted rather quickly. 

My sappy hormones haven't tapered off yet, so I find myself clutching Ben and sniffling to "Ivri Anochi" ("It's so bee-yoo-tee-ful, waaaaah!")

But one of the videos that popped up in my YouTube viewing---"Mach a Bracha" by Shmueli Ungar---has given me food for thought (pun intended). 

For one thing, the video, in my opinion, is particularly well done, which is hard for a Jewish music video (we definitely have more limited budgets than the last "Idol" winner, let's not kid ourselves). 

Secondly, it's the message . . . 

Ma used to say, "Mach a bracha" when she would place a bowl of deliciousness on the table. 

Her father, my Zeidy, used to get upset by the standard Shabbos kiddush. People are standing around, he would note, barely keeping track of what they ate—was the right bracha said? Did they say a nuch bracha? 

A number of years ago, we were in a different shul for Shabbos for a simcha. Whilst at the kiddush, a teenage girl stopped next to us, seemingly looking at the wall. We turned, and noticed she was diligently saying "al hamichya" off of a beautiful glass display. 

Ma was so inspired by this, remembering her father's pet peeve, that she decided to have a similar one made for our shul. 

I'll be honest: Ben doesn't really let me daven (he always wakes up when I try to) and my regular nuch brachas have suffered as well. This video reminded me about the importance of brachas, how the one we recite once a year is no more exalted than the ones we make every day, the shahakols, asheir yatzars, al hamichyas.  

The beginning scene, where he's about to eat a mundane bowl of Rice Krispies, is an ideal example of how we use our brachas to turn all we do, even the most profane, into a great act of service.