This week’s parsha is all about the wonders of ארץ ישראל and ה׳'s providence over it.
There is a מצווה דאורייתא to bentch ברכת המזון; this may be the only ברכה that is Biblically mandated.
There are six parts of ברכת המזון: it starts with זימון, the invitation to the community to join (when appropriate), then the four ברכות, then the “הרחמן”s, which the gemara calls ברכת האורך (we discussed that in פרשת חיי שרה תשפ״ב). The text we have for ברכת המזון was developed over centuries:
But, like all ברכות, the text is Rabbinically mandated. The Torah requires us to ברכת את ה׳ אלקיך, but doesn’t specify how. Could we fulfill our obligation with the words of the Gaon of Springfield, Bart Simpson?
The gemara concludes that no, the concepts of the first three ברכות are required by the Torah:
The פשט, however, reads, “when you eat and are satisfied, bless G-d for the land He has given you”; there is no requirement to thank ה׳ for the actual food. But that doesn’t seems to make sense, so Ramban adds an “and” in there:
I clearly have to thank ה׳ for the food I have eaten, but the pasuk adds that I also need to thank Him for ארץ ישראל, even if the food I’m eating doesn’t come from there. There’s a very ציוני implication: my food should come from the Holy Land; I should be living there and living off its produce.
That explains ברכת הזן and ברכת הארץ. But why add a ברכה for Jerusalem? The connection between בונה ירושלים and הטובה seems forced. The חתם סופר has a different perspective. He looks at the context of our pasuk:
Thanking ה׳ for the food is not enough. Even if I bentch regularly, if I do not appreciate the purpose of that food, I will end up in a state of תאכל ושבעת…ושכחת את ה׳ אלקיך. I need to thank ה׳ for giving me a purpose, a reason to eat that food. In fact, I need to thank ה׳ for allowing me to ask for food at all.
Rabbi Simcha Bunim of Peshischa (an early chassidic master, cited in Praying with Fire 1) questions the punishment of the snake in גן עדן: (בראשית ג:יד) ויאמר ה׳ אלקים אל הנחש כי עשית זאת ארור אתה מכל הבהמה ומכל חית השדה; על גחנך תלך ועפר תאכל כל ימי חייך׃. What kind of punishment is this? Dust may not taste good but it is omnipresent; ה׳ is telling the snake that it will never go hungry, never have to look for food.
But having that lack forces us to look to ה׳, to daven, to establish a relationship with הקב״ה that we would not have if everything was easy. Giving your kids a credit card and never talking to them does not make for a healthy parent-child relationship. Telling the snake, “Go eat anything; I don’t want to hear from you” was in truth a terrible punishment.
That is what ירושלים and the בית המקדש fundamentally represent: that sense of relationship, the closeness to הקב״ה. And that explains the text of the third ברכה. It starts with ירושלים and the בית המקדש, and ends with ירושלים and the בית המקדש:
But it includes an apparently irrelevant prayer in the middle:
As a side point, Rav Soloveitchik had a different נוסח:
Our תפילה—and by implication, the בית המקדש—is not about קדושה or עבודה. It is about appreciating our dependency on ה׳, and the relationship that warrants תפילה. And that is what the בית המקדש is really all about: