When Survival Isn't Guaranteed: How Asher Yatzar Became My Wartime Anchor

"Since this war began, I took on saying Asher Yatzar with gratitude - reading it from a sign on a wall. If there is no sign where I am, then I try to say it with my eyes closed so I can focus on experiencing more gratitude."

 

               

 

In the rush of modern life, we often overlook the most fundamental blessings. Our bodies function without conscious command - hearts beat, lungs expand, organs process and filter—all without our active involvement. This miracle of existence becomes background noise until something goes wrong.

 

Enter Asher Yatzar, the Jewish blessing traditionally recited after using the bathroom. At first glance, this might seem an unusual moment for prayer. Yet therein lies its profound wisdom: by acknowledging gratitude for proper bodily function at such an ordinary moment, we elevate the mundane into the sacred.

 

The words themselves acknowledge that our bodies contain "many openings and many cavities," and that if even one of them were to be opened when it should be closed, or closed when it should be opened, we could not survive. This recognition—that our continued existence hangs in a delicate balance - transforms a routine biological function into an opportunity for awe.

 

When recited with intention - standing still, focusing on each word - Asher Yatzar becomes more than a rote prayer. It becomes a daily practice of radical gratitude. By pausing to acknowledge what works rather than focusing only on what doesn't, we shift our perspective toward appreciation.

 

This intentional gratitude practice ripples outward. If we can find meaning and thankfulness in something as ordinary as a functioning digestive system, how much more might we appreciate the extraordinary gifts in our lives? The mind that thinks, the eyes that see beauty, the ears that hear music, the legs that carry us forward.

 

In times of war, illness, or hardship, this practice takes on even deeper significance. When survival isn't guaranteed, acknowledging the miracle of proper bodily function becomes not just spiritual practice but psychological lifeline—an anchor to gratitude when fear and uncertainty threaten to overwhelm.

 

By reciting Asher Yatzar with kavannah (intention), we train ourselves to notice what's working rather than fixating on what's broken. And in doing so, we discover that a meaningful life isn't built from grand moments, but from finding holiness in the everyday miracles we too often take for granted.