In Yedid Nefesh, “Kel na refa na lah” is a request for Hashem to heal our souls

It’s All About Relationship

Around the Campfire // Mindel Kassorla

I’ve always felt a strongly personal connection to the words of Yedid Nefesh. Maybe it’s because as a little girl I spent most Friday nights singing it on the couch with my only sister. Maybe it’s because when my sister got married, I walked down the aisle to that song. But maybe, it’s because even as a child, I sensed the depth of the poetic and powerful words of this song, which touch on the intimate relationship between us and Hashem.

One line of the song is borrowed from a pasuk describing Miriam’s tzaraas. “Kel na refa na lah,” says Moshe Rabbeinu. The word “na,” which can either mean “please” or “now,” is used twice here. If we translate them each time differently, the translation is simple: “Please G-d, heal her (Miriam) now.”

But what if both instances of “na” mean please? Why is Moshe saying please twice?

Rav Shimshon Pincus explains that this pasuk actually contains two requests: “Please G-d” and “Please heal her.”

“First and foremost,” says Moshe, “I want You, Hashem. I want a relationship with You. Second, is my request, the thing I come to You asking for. But that is secondary. I know that challenges cause us to utilize tefillah and are really a means to connect with You — the ultimate goal.”

In Yedid Nefesh, “Kel na refa na lah” is a request for Hashem to heal our souls. The song continues, “b’har’os lah noam zivecha,” by showing her the pleasantness of Your radiance. We yearn for so many things, but true healing will come through seeing Hashem in our lives and feeling close to Him.

Glisten and Glow

In Search of Happiness // Rebbetzin Aviva Feiner

Yes, it’s winter, and it’s often dark outside. The time to daven Minchah comes quickly, we enjoy long Friday nights, and Melaveh Malkahs are in season.

Rav Shimon Schwab (Selected Writings) tells us that happiness is like the stars in the night sky. They glisten and shine in the darkness and blackness.

It isn’t always easy to glow in our world, because there is much darkness.

Rav Schwab points out that the word aval, but, shares the same Hebrew letters as the word avel, a mourner. What’s the connection between the two?

Think of the happy child giggling and gurgling until he reaches the age when someone else grabs his ball. Then he yells, “Mine!”

He’s a little bit older when his sister takes the piece of cake his mother cut for him. Now his language is more sophisticated and he says, “But that was mine!”

As he gets older the “but” claims grow: “But it was my turn,” “But I should have gotten that,” “But I thought I would get that job…”

Living a life of “aval” makes a person an “avel,” perpetually in mourning. Instead, we could choose to focus on the idea of “she’asah li kol tzarki.” He gives me what I need. There’s no need to focus on what others have or on what we lack. Rav Wolbe calls this the middah of “histapkus.” He says that having this middah makes a person enjoy their lot.

Our inner work is to learn to be satisfied with what life brings our way. That’s what will help us glisten and glow!

All Accounted For

In Real Time // Esther Kurtz

Yom Tov means leek soup in my house. And if it’s Rosh Hashanah, then it’s a double must, because hello, it’s a siman, too. So on my shopping list in big letters I wrote eight beautiful leeks. I split my shopping between the kosher grocery store and the farmers market ten minutes away.

I got everything I needed at the farmers market — except leeks. They had none. I’d already been to one kosher grocery store and knew they only had sad leeks. So I went to the other kosher grocery store, and they were out, too.

Failure wasn’t an option. I mean, of course it was: This is where a question of hishtadlus and results come in. What was normal hishtadlus in this case? How desperate was I that “normal” wouldn’t cut it for hishtadlus this time round?

I had to go to ShopRite because they had a sale on soda. I checked out their leek matzav — they had none. Trader Joe’s! The thought popped into my head. People love Trader Joe’s for their produce. I drove there. Zilch.

My last attempt was to ask the masses. I texted the community chat and asked if anyone had found leeks anywhere super recently. The responses were to go the stores I’d already been to. Everyone else seemed to have been matzliach… except for me.

Someone wrote that they’d just bought some at the farmers market, so I figured I’d go back. It was worth it. The leeks they had just put out were glorious; with thick, firm, large white sections. I bought nine.

While on line to check out, I saw I’d missed a call from my neighbor. I called her back, and she said it was too late, she’d just been at the farmers market then and had wanted to pick some leeks up for me.

Shucks, you mean I didn’t have to make this trip?

Nope. I did.

At the end of the day, I was meant to have beautiful leeks. I was also supposed to have X amount of agmas nefesh that day, and this leek chasing was Hashem’s way of fitting the puzzle pieces together.

As always, it’s not that having bitachon suddenly makes everything go your way. Your day is just as annoying as before. But letting go and trusting Hashem takes the sting out of it and allows us to manage through the frustration way more easily.

And my roasted leeks and leek soup were a chef’s kiss.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 929)