The course of history is engraved footfall by footfall. As we seek to hew the pathway for tomorrow’s tranquility, we are moved by the eternal words of the psalmist: “I lift my eyes up to the hills, from where does my help come?” As both poet and warrior, King David bore the weight of the future as squarely on his shoulders as we do today, and his response was to look upward. Written millennia before the birth of these United States, King David’s words epitomize the American Ideal. The very symbols of our nation- the fifty stars radiating from our nation’s flag, the majestic eagle that swoops heavenward on our seal- they call us to soar to the heights, away from the minutiae, far from the small squabbles that distort and divert. Choosing to sow the seeds of righteousness over the fleeting satisfaction of the instant fix, this is the best of American Tradition. Whether we stand at the peak of Mount McKinley, atop Seattle’s Space Needle, or with the wind whistling through our hair on the 86th floor of the Empire State Building, we seek Your blessing and pray that you will shelter us against the winds of petty division and distraction on our journey along the high road in search of the long view. Open our eyes that we may feel, in King David’s immortal words, “Your watchfulness as we depart and enter, from this time forth and forever.”

The Hebrew name of the Book of Psalms is “Sefer Tehillim,” which means “Book of Praises.” It is one of the 24 books of the Bible, and is composed of 150 separate poems.

Jewish tradition attributes the book of Psalms to King David, and 73 of those psalms contain his name.
In order to parallel the structure of the five books of Moses, known as the Torah, the book of Psalms is also divided into 5 sections.

Psalms are an integral part of many other religions and their liturgy, and many psalms have been set to music. One interesting, little known tidbit is that the Rastafari movement considers psalms as their most beloved part of the Bible, and Rasta singer Prince Far I produced a recording entitled “Psalms for I” which is a spoken, atmospheric version of the book of Psalms, which is set to a roots reggae backdrop from the group called the Aggrovators.

It is easy to be inspired by the Book of Psalms, and much of Rabbi Balkany’s inspiration certainly has come from this beautiful sacred book of poetry.

We are gathered to pay tribute to a dedicated public servant Rudolph Giuliani.

We are grateful that we have such a great leader- recognized for his talents and appreciated for his inspiration, respected for his conviction and loved for his pleasantness. We pray for his future success.

Our city is not just a small town which has grown. It is great and complicated. It is vibrant with a personality which is a blending of the physical structure and the people and something intangible which we may call a spirit. For we dare not allow it to groan in agony as other cities experience, but rather, crackling in exuberance the passions, ideas, and noises defining life of America’s largest and greatest metropolis.

We therefore, need urgently, leadership with the elementary principals of work, sacrifice and duty- the transcendent criteria of truth, justice, righteousness and grace of love and charity.

These are the terms stipulated in the nature of things for the salvation of our city, and the security and peace of our nation. Only in this profound, stern and tested wisdom shall we find once more the light and courage we need for the assurance of law and equality.

Praise from Rabbi Balkany is always enjoyed and certainly appreciated.

90:14 Satisfy us in the morning with your loving kindness,

that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.

90:15 Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us,

for as many years as we have seen evil.

90:16 Let your work appear to your servants;

your glory to their children.

90:17 Let the favor of the Lord our God be on us;establish the work of our hands for us;

yes, establish the work of our hands.

From these inspiring words it is easy to see the force behind the poetic words of Rabbi Balkany. May we all merit receiving the blessings from above.

Our father in Heaven!
We stand before you wrapped in the mantle of realized dreams. We are cloaked in the magnificence of Israel from the Kinneret’s inky blue waters to the brilliant white peaks of Mount Hermon. The Negev blooms verdantly in the midst of a sea of sand. Though the fabric of the Land’s beauty is a plush and luxurious adornment around the shoulders of our Nation, we plead that you look at us, in our prosperity, in our comfort, and perceive our passionate pleas. We beseech you to reveal yourself as the Master Weaver. Reassure us, for our inheritance, our gift, the dream that was on our ancestors’ lips as they slept, that remained clenched in the fists of all who fought for her, our Land. Israel is being tugged form us thread by thread, promise by broken promise. We pray that you bless Mort Klein and all who devote their lives to weaving Israel’s future with triple strands of strength, purpose and faithfulness. We pray that we will merit to see the fulfillment of Ecclesiastes’ words as he wrote: a three-ply cord is not quickly broken, with a People, a Land, and Jerusalem standing strong as one. Amen.

Our Father in Heaven,

We stand before you at our hungriest. We assure you, we plead that you look at us in our prosperity, in our comfort and see desperation and passion.

“Yishman Yeshuran vayi vat.” And Yeshuran became fat and they kicked. We plead that you see complacency, for the fat that was fated for us is a mask. We beg you. We are aware and disturbed and sweating as we see this gift, the prayer that took shape before waking, that remained clenched in the fists of all those who fought and bled and yet dared to dream – that this, our inheritance, our Israel, is being tugged from us, thread by thread, promise by broken promise, unraveling.

We tell you right on Lord, before the hundreds here, sitting by twinkling candlelight, before porcelain dishes encrusted with the fat of the land, that our hunger has not yet diminished, our dreams are still vivid as bougainvillea entwined on a Jerusalem veranda.  Our breath sweet and wild as the sage brush, our hands still clenched – brother clinging to brother – because no matter what superficialities cast shadows between us — we stand as one, before the Almighty One, for one land.  And we pray for her safety. We hunger for her security. We are ravenous for her peace. Amen.

OUR FATHER IN HEAVEN!
There is a symphony of uncommon kindness echoing through these streets. We hear the jingle jangle of the coins given to those in need. We listen with pleasure to the rumble tumble of the children as they play under the smiling eyes of their schoolteachers and the hush shush of the mothers as they lovingly rock their little ones to sleep. Each in its own way is a lilting praise to You, for every kindness reflects You, Oh Lord, the source of all benevolence.

But the crescendo of kindness is reached when another voice is added to the chorus of the working men and women of this great state. The great sage philosopher Maimonides told us that providing employment is the loftiest form of charity. Thus, in a symphony of kindness our beloved governor George E. Pataki is the conductor. No-one has worked harder to create jobs in New York. He has heard the cries of our people and has devoted himself to helping them.

Though only eight incredible years have passed, Governor Pataki nevertheless ascended the pantheon of leadership. He relates to all with humility and honesty, the very qualities that took root during his boyhood years on a Peekskill farm. While Governor Pataki cares for us in Albany, Dov Hikind devotes his days and nights to our community’s well being. We pray, Oh Lord, bless them. Let their endeavors echo with the thrilling notes of victory. For their success will bring us closer to the day that kindness will reverberate from every New York acre. Amen

Our Father in Heaven-

Snowflakes which are windswept to the sky-piercing peaks do more than cloak mountaintops in their fine wintry vestments. Their varied crystalline structures speak of how you, the Master Artist, have sculpted our world to exemplify the beauty of contrast.

Heartfelt differences are the hallmarks of our times. Oh Lord, help us realize that division need not be the lyric of sorrow, but the signature of brotherhood. In the pursuit of truth and righteousness disputes can compose verses of hard won wisdom.

Consider the rent rock running through the Grand Canyon. It is a break, a fissure, a divide which is miles deep. Yet, is there a sight more majestic. Unity is not sameness, nor is it bland agreement. Only when Moses parted the waters was a nation set free.

We pray, 0 God, give us the strength to strive for the greater good, defend the passion of our convictions and still retain the devotion of brothers and sisters.

Bless all of us in this hallowed hall of lawmaking with clarity of vision so that we may gaze upon the heights of our shared destiny.

Amen.

A truly awe-inspring sentiment from Rabbi Milton Balkany.