May the Lord Protect and Defend You

One of my favorite movies of all time is Fiddler on the Roof. The music, the storytelling, the heartfelt struggle between tradition and change — it’s all deeply compelling. But the scene that moves me most isn’t one of the big musical numbers or dramatic showdowns. It’s something quieter.

It’s Friday night in Anatevka. Tevye and Golde stand over their daughters, hands gently extended, and sing in tender harmony: “May the Lord protect and defend you…” The melody is simple, the moment pure. What makes it unforgettable is not just the beauty of the song — it’s the idea that, amid the chaos and hardship of life, the home becomes a sanctuary. A place where blessing lives.

I do it too. Every Friday night, I place my hands on the heads of my four children and offer them a blessing. It’s a moment of stillness and holiness, a pause in the week that connects our home to something ancient and eternal.

This Shabbat, the portion from Numbers (4:21–7:89), called Naso, holds one of the sources of that blessing — the Birkat Kohanim, or Priestly Blessing. God instructs Moses to tell Aaron and his sons:

This three-part blessing is at once poetic and powerful. It invokes divine protection, spiritual illumination, and — at its peak — peace, which in Hebrew also connotes wholeness, harmony, and fulfillment. Originally recited by priests in the Temple, today these ancient words find new life in synagogues, weddings, baby namings — and most tenderly, in the home.

In his new book Shabbat Revolution: A Practical Guide to Weekly Renewal, Rabbi Elie Mischel writes about this moment of blessing teh children as one of Shabbat’s most personal and transformative rituals. He describes how the Priestly Blessing, once a public, national prayer, becomes something beautifully intimate when spoken by a parent over a child — a conduit of love, tradition, and Divine connection. Shabbat, he explains, is not just about resting; it’s about re-centering — and what better way to do that than by reminding our children (and ourselves) of who they are and what we hope for them.

The tradition of blessing children on Friday night goes even further back than the priestly blessing. In Genesis 48, as Jacob nears death, he calls in his grandsons, Ephraim and Manasseh, and blesses them:

These words have since become the traditional opening to the Friday night blessing for sons. For daughters, we offer:

“May God make you like Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah.”

Why Ephraim and Manasseh, and not Jacob’s own sons? The sages offer a profound insight: they were the first brothers in the Torah who didn’t fight. Unlike Cain and Abel, Isaac and Ishmael, or Joseph and his brothers, Ephraim and Manasseh embodied peace and mutual respect. Despite Jacob giving the younger Ephraim precedence, there was no jealousy. In blessing our children to be like them, we’re not just hoping for spiritual strength — we’re praying for peace among siblings, homes free of rivalry, and hearts rooted in unity.

Ephraim and Manasseh also represent resilience in exile. Raised in Egypt, they maintained their Jewish identity and values in a foreign land. Their example speaks powerfully to us today — raising children in a world filled with distractions, pressures, and instability. We pray our children will be like them: grounded, faithful, and unshaken by the winds around them.

The physical act of placing a hand on a child’s head echoes Jacob’s gesture as he blessed his grandchildren. It’s a way of passing not just words, but presence — a transmission of love, attention, and spiritual energy. And then come the sacred words from the Priestly Blessing — now reimagined in our living rooms.

Each line offers its own layer of prayer:

• “May God bless you and protect you” – for physical needs, safety, and well-being.
• “May God shine His face upon you and be gracious to you” – for spiritual growth and divine favor.
• “May God lift His face to you and grant you peace” – for emotional wholeness, inner calm, and harmony.

Some parents pause here to whisper personal wishes — unique hopes tailored to each child’s week, personality, or struggles. Others simply let the moment speak for itself. But for the child, the memory is lasting. Many adults, even decades later, recall the feeling of those hands, the warmth of those words, the sense of being seen.

In a world of constant movement, this ritual reminds us to pause and look our children in the eye. To say, with our hands and our hearts: You matter. You are loved. You are blessed.

And perhaps, that’s what blessing really is — not a magic spell, but a commitment. A way of saying: I see the divine in you, and I will do everything I can to help it shine.

To learn more about the meaning and power of Shabbat — and how its ancient rhythms can transform your relationship with God, family, and rest — check out Rabbi Elie Mischel’s new Book, Shabbat Revolution, at our Store – today!