Two little-known bookend prayers I really need now

Like many of us, of faith and not of faith, I struggle with prayer. It is hard to focus. I have written before about the beauty of Psalms and will not challenge for one second the beauty and awe of my faith’s key prayers. But two short prayers really speak to me at this time and, because they are so little known, I wanted to give them a platform for myself and others.

I have a neurological condition that, as well as affecting me physically, is starting to affect my behavior. It is called Progressive Supranuclear Palsy, or PSP. Like Alzheimer’s, PSP involves the abnormal accumulation of a protein called tau in the brain, although the diseases affect the brain differently.

In PSP, damage to networks involved in judgement, emotion, motivation and self-control can contribute to profound changes in behavior. For me, as for many with the condition, that is now beginning to show up as changes in anger, irritability, apathy and impulsiveness, among other symptoms. I am engaged in a battle to stave off these effects for as long as I possibly can.

I believe these two prayers are central to that battle. I cannot stop PSP, but I can, and I feel I must, try to resist some of its behavioral consequences. I need to double down on these prayers and use them as tools: one to help me avoid situations that may provoke anger, irritability or impulsiveness, and the other to ensure that resentment and frustration do not accumulate over time.

Both are Jewish prayers, and each has its own story in how I came to find it. I have not checked whether other faiths have their own versions, although I suspect many do. But the ideas behind them are not tribal. They are human. Both, pointedly, are about how we treat everyone, not simply our own.

The morning: keeping clear from danger

I first heard this prayer at the shiva of a man who was unquestionably a role model and a true mensch to me and many others. During the early days of Covid we both became ill and stayed in touch regularly by WhatsApp. He was selfless to the end. I recovered, but he tragically did not.

At the shiva, his grandson, the son of close friends, spoke about this short prayer, attributed to Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi, the compiler of the Mishnah, which his grandfather loved dearly. I have said it every morning since.

יְהִי רָצוֹן מִלְּפָנֶיךָ יהוה אֱלֹהַי וֵאלֹהֵי אֲבוֹתַי, שֶׁתַּצִּילֵנִי הַיּוֹם וּבְכָל יוֹם מֵעַזֵּי פָנִים וּמֵעַזּוּת פָּנִים, מֵאָדָם רָע, וּמֵחָבֵר רָע, וּמִשָּׁכֵן רָע, וּמִפֶּגַע רָע, וּמִשָּׂטָן הַמַּשְׁחִית, מִדִּין קָשֶׁה, וּמִבַּעַל דִּין קָשֶׁה, בֵּין שֶׁהוּא בֶן בְּרִית וּבֵין שֶׁאֵינוֹ בֶן בְּרִית.

May it be Your will, Lord my God and God of my ancestors, to rescue me today and every day from the arrogant and from arrogance itself; from a bad person, a bad companion, a bad neighbor, a bad mishap; from the destructive adversary; from a harsh judgement and a harsh opponent, whether he is a member of the covenant or not.

It does not ask for riches or greatness. On one level it is a prayer asking God to keep danger away. But the prayer contains something more challenging. It asks protection not only from arrogant people but from arrogance itself. The danger is not always someone else. Sometimes it is what we ourselves might become.

For me, the lesson is practical. I need to recognize situations that may provoke behavioral symptoms and, where possible, step away from them. Easier said than done. But spending a few seconds each morning focusing on that goal matters.

The night: Letting go of anger

The second prayer is a prayer many say just before they go to be (before the Shema). Its roots are in the Talmud, where the sage Mar Zutra is described as forgiving, every night before sleep, anyone who had wronged him that day. There are different versions of the text, but in its simplest form it says:

הֲרֵינִי מוֹחֵל לְכָל מִי שֶׁהִכְעִיס וְהִקְנִיט אוֹתִי אוֹ שֶׁחָטָא כְּנֶגְדִּי, בֵּין בְּגוּפִי בֵּין בְּמָמוֹנִי בֵּין בִּכְבוֹדִי בֵּין בְּכָל אֲשֶׁר לִי, בֵּין בְּאֹנֶס בֵּין בְּרָצוֹן, בֵּין בְּשׁוֹגֵג בֵּין בְּמֵזִיד, בֵּין בְּדִבּוּר בֵּין בְּמַעֲשֶׂה, וְלֹא יֵעָנֵשׁ שׁוּם אָדָם בְּסִבָּתִי.

I hereby forgive anyone who has angered or provoked me or wronged me, whether in my body, my money, my dignity or anything else that is mine; whether under compulsion or by choice, by accident or on purpose, in word or in deed. May no one be punished on my account.

I used to say this every night religiously. Then sleep started swallowing me up, usually with my phone still in my hand, and the prayer quietly slipped off the end of the day. A friend and I spoke about it shortly after Yom Kippur. We both admitted the same thing and decided to start again.

We spend 10 days a year in serious forgiveness mode, then the other 355 rather less so. We build anger and resentment toward the people we love and the people we encounter, hoping that somehow, during the season of repentance, it can all be made to disappear.

There is a better answer: close the anger every night.

It is a much better way to live. But it cannot simply be a few words muttered automatically. It has to be heartfelt. It has to involve thinking honestly about the day that has just passed.

And perhaps I also need to finish each day asking myself whether I have been the person who caused somebody else pain. Forgiving others is important, but so is recognizing when I need to ask for forgiveness myself.

For me, it is particularly important now. I do not generally hold grudges, but this prayer acts as a safeguard against anger taking root and growing.

Two bookends

In the morning, I ask to be kept away from bad company and my own worst instincts. At night, I let go of whatever anyone did to me, whoever they are.

These prayers have become the bookends of my day: one helps me avoid trouble before it starts; the other helps me release it before I sleep.

A minute or two at either end of the day.

I am sure other religions have similar ideas, and I am sure many self-help books and therapies arrive at much the same conclusions quite independently of religion and God.

I cannot stop what PSP is doing to my brain. But I can start and end each day reminding myself who I want to be.