By Rabbi Dr. Michael Leo Samuel in Chula Vista, California
One of the most beautiful and ancient blessings in Jewish life is the Priestly Benediction. God tells Moses:
“Tell Aaron and his sons: This is how you are to bless the Israelites. Say to them:
‘May the LORD bless you and keep you;
the LORD make His face shine upon you and be gracious to you;
the LORD turn His face toward you and give you peace.’” (Numbers 6:23-27)
Fifteen words in Hebrew. No more, no less. Short enough to memorize, powerful enough to change lives.
But here’s the catch: how you say it matters as much as what you say. If a Cohen is angry at the congregation — maybe because someone parked too close to his car again, or the kiddush ran out of herring — he’s not allowed to bless. You can’t channel divine blessing while secretly thinking, “You people are giving me a headache.” The blessing must come from a place of love. Otherwise, it’s like trying to start a fire with wet matches and a bad attitude.
Let’s be honest: the Cohen isn’t the one doing the heavy lifting. He’s basically the Bluetooth speaker. God is the actual music. But even the best speaker needs someone to press “play.” The Cohen has to show up ready — as a man of peace who pursues peace. Judaism has always taught that if people don’t like you down here, it’s going to be pretty awkward trying to be beloved by the One Upstairs.
And that brings us to the secret weapon of the blessing: the face.
The Torah doesn’t just say “May God bless you.” It says, “May God make His face shine upon you.” Our Sages understood that the Cohen’s own face has to reflect that light first. So Jewish tradition gives us three simple (but challenging) rules for faces:
Countenance: Face people! None of this half-turned, “I’m busy but I see you” nonsense. When your spouse walks in the door, don’t give them the side-eye like you’re a spy in a movie. Turn. Full face. You’re not a profile picture.
Expression: Don’t just stand there looking like you’re reading the terms and conditions on an iPhone update. Show interest! A blank face has all the personality of a piece of matzah.
Pleasantness: This is the big one. Your face should shine. It should say, “I’m happy you exist.” Martin Buber taught that only when we truly see the Divine spark in our neighbor’s face can we begin to encounter God. Every face is unique. Every face can speak volumes. And yes — even yours.
The face is the mirror of the soul. And like any good mirror, it’s up to us what we choose to reflect.
So, here’s my practical, low-cost, high-impact advice: Greet people. Take the initiative. Smile like you mean it. Nothing melts hostility faster than a genuine smile. It’s cheaper than therapy and more effective than most arguments.
There’s a famous story that illustrates this perfectly.
In the years before the war, a well-to-do Hasidic Rebbe in the area near Danzig used to take his morning stroll every day. Dressed sharply with his silver walking cane, he greeted everyone he met with a cheerful “Good morning!” He learned people’s names. He remembered them.
On the outskirts lived a German man named Herr Muller. Every single day the Rebbe would smile and say, “Good morning, Herr Muller!” And everyday Herr Muller would reply politely, “Good morning, Herr Rabbiner!”
This went on for years.
Then the Nazis rose to power. Herr Muller put on the uniform. The Rebbe’s family was murdered in Treblinka. The Rebbe himself, after unimaginable suffering, ended up in Auschwitz.
One day during selection, the Rebbe stood in line — shaved, emaciated, in rags. The commandant was walking down the line with his white gloves, skull-and-crossbones hat, and cold authority, deciding life and death with a flick of his baton.
The Rebbe looked up… and something clicked.
“Good morning, Herr Muller!” he blurted out instinctively.
Without thinking, the commandant replied warmly, “Good morning, Herr Rabbiner!”
For a split second, the old relationship broke through the horror. The commandant quickly pointed him to the side of life. The next day, the Rebbe was transferred to a safer camp.
Years later, as an old man, the Rebbe would say with a twinkle in his eye: “This is the power of a good-morning smile. A person must always greet his fellow man.”
Even in the darkest places, a face of light can open doors.
We live in a world where people text more than they talk, scroll more than they see, and often walk around wearing invisible “Do Not Disturb” signs. The Priestly Blessing challenges us: let your face become a little mirror of God’s light. Smile. Greet. Connect.
Because sometimes the difference between life and death — or at least between loneliness and hope — starts with something as simple, and as revolutionary, as a genuine “Good morning.”
And if a Cohen can do it even when he’s had a rough week… so can we.
Shabbat Shalom. Now go practice your smile — it looks good on you
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Rabbi Dr. Michael Leo Samuel is the spiritual leader of Temple Beth Shalom in Chula Vista, California.