Twice a year, every year, the school where I taught (back in America) would hold parent-teacher conferences. These can be nerve-wracking for both parents and teachers. As a parent, you wonder: what are the teachers going to say about my child? How does this reflect on me? Does this teacher, who just met my child, know how wonderful they are? And as a teacher, the tension is just as real: how can I communicate to the parents that their children matter to me, that I see them as wonderful individuals, while still being honest about areas where growth is needed? If you know, you know.
Our principal had a beautiful practice before conferences began. She would gather the faculty and remind us of a verse from Psalms: Adonai sefatai tiftach ufi yagid tehilatecha: “O Lord, open my lips, that my mouth may declare Your praise” (Psalm 51:17). This was our prayer as teachers, that when we opened our mouths, the right words would come forth — words that would uplift, encourage, and guide. We knew we would not always get it right, but this verse taught us to be intentional and mindful with the words we spoke.
And isn’t this the very way we are meant to approach God? Not casually, not haphazardly, but with humility and a request: “God, please guide my lips.”
One of my favorite piyyutim, liturgical poems, recited during the High Holidays is called Ochila La’el. It opens with these words:
Ochila la’El, achaleh panav. Esh’alah mimenu ma’aneh lashon. Asher bik’hal am ashira uzo, abi’ah renanot b’ad mifalav. L’adam ma’archei lev u’mei’Hashem ma’aneh lashon. Adonai sefatai tiftach, ufi yagid tehilatecha.
“I will hope in God; I will entreat His presence, and beseech Him to grant me eloquence of language, that in the congregation of the people I may sing of His mighty power, and in joyful strains rehearse His wonderful works. The dispositions of the heart are of man, but the utterance of speech is from the Lord. O Lord! open my lips, that my mouth may declare Your praise.”
This song captures something essential: our words matter, and they do not fully belong to us. We may prepare the thoughts of our heart, but the actual utterance comes from God. This is drawn straight from Proverbs: (Proverbs 16:1).
Here lies the question: if our lips belong to God, how are we meant to use them not only toward Him but toward one another?
The Bible does not shy away from the power of the tongue. Mishlei teaches: “Death and life are in the power of the tongue” (Proverbs 18:21).
Words can bless and words can destroy. A verse from Tehillim describes the righteous person as one “who speaks truth in his heart, who does not slander with his tongue, who does no evil to his fellow” (Psalm 15:2-3).
These are not abstract ideals. They are commands about how to live, reminding us that speech is never neutral.
In the High Holiday season, when Ochila La’el is recited, Jews stand before God in judgment. We beg for mercy. We plead that our words be accepted. But perhaps the greater challenge is not what we say to God. After all, He already knows our thoughts, but what we say to one another. Do we ask God to open our lips when we speak to our spouse, to our children, to our friends, to strangers? Or do we reserve our prayers for the synagogue and forget that our everyday conversations carry the same weight?
Think again of a parent-teacher conference. A teacher can crush a child’s spirit with a careless sentence or can light up a child’s future with a single word of encouragement. A parent can shame a teacher or express gratitude that changes the whole relationship. These are not small matters. The words themselves are the difference between hope and despair, between blessing and curse.
When Ochila La’el asks God for ma’aneh lashon – eloquence of the tongue – it is not a request for fancy speech or flowery rhetoric. It is a plea for words that heal, words that are true, words that bless. That is why the song ends where our prayers so often begin: Adonai sefatai tiftach. We admit that our lips do not fully belong to us, and we beg God to guard them.
This is the radical teaching of the Bible: our mouths are not private property. They are sacred instruments. Just as the priest’s vessels in the Temple were consecrated for holy use, our tongues are consecrated every time we ask God to open them. The sanctity of our lips means that speech is never casual. Every conversation is an opportunity for holiness. Every interaction with a child, a spouse, a neighbor, or a stranger can be elevated if we speak with intention and with prayer.
Ochila La’el reminds us that prayer is not confined to the synagogue. Every sentence we utter can be prayer if we ask God to guide it. The disposition of the heart may be ours, but the answer of the tongue is from God.
When guided by God, our words become nothing less than instruments of redemption.
