Asher Yatzar and Our NICU Journey

"A lady in Bnei Brak had a preemie who was small and needed a kidney operation. They had to wait until the baby weighed one kilo. The family all took upon themselves to say Asher Yatzar with kavannah by reading it, rather than saying it off by heart, and before the baby reached one kilo the problem was solved with no operation."

In our fast-paced world, many prayers become automatic. Words memorized and recited without thought, like background music playing beneath the surface of our consciousness. For years, I recited Asher Yatzar from memory, the familiar Hebrew flowing effortlessly after each visit to the bathroom. Yet something profound changed when I began reading the blessing from text rather than reciting it from memory.

When we memorize prayers, efficiency often replaces intention. The words flow automatically, allowing our minds to wander elsewhere. But kavannah, true intention, and presence, requires slowing down, engaging fully with each word and its meaning. Reading Asher Yatzar from a siddur or card creates this sacred pause.

Each time I read the blessing, my eyes trace the Hebrew letters, and the physicality of reading forces me to pace myself. Words I once rushed through now receive their due attention: "Who formed humans with wisdom and created within them many openings and many hollows." Reading activates different neural pathways than recitation from memory, engaging visual processing alongside language centers, creating a more complete experience of the blessing.

The practice transforms a routine biological function into a moment of profound gratitude. Reading the acknowledgment that if "one of them were to be opened when it should be closed, or closed when it should be opened, it would be impossible to exist even for a brief moment" becomes not just an intellectual understanding but a felt experience of wonder at creation.

This reading practice has revealed nuances in the blessing I had previously missed despite years of recitation. The final words thanking the Divine for "healing all flesh and doing wonders" connect our individual bodily function to universal healing in ways I had overlooked when saying the words from memory.

In challenging times, during illness, war, or personal struggle, this practice of reading Asher Yatzar with kavannah becomes even more powerful. It grounds us in gratitude for what continues to function properly even as other aspects of life feel broken. By engaging fully with each word through reading, we transform a brief blessing into a profound spiritual practice, reminding ourselves that even in life's most ordinary moments, we can find extraordinary meaning.