YHWH

 February 10, 2022

Last night, I read an article that caused me to rethink my prayers and how they impact my life, particularly when I think about St. Paul’s command to “pray without ceasing.” 

Sandra Thurmon Caporale writes,

“There was a moment when Moses had the nerve to ask God what his name is. God was gracious enough to answer, and the name he gave is recorded in the original Hebrew as YHWH.

Over time we’ve arbitrarily added an “a” and an “e” in there to get YaHWeH, presumably because we have a preference for vowels.” (In reality, the original Hebrew alphabet contained no vowels, relying on the reader’s familiarity with the language to supply them appropriately.)  

She continues: “But scholars and rabis have noted that the letters YHWH represent breathing sounds, or aspirated consonants. When pronounced without intervening vowels, it actually sounds like breathing. YH (inhale): WH (exhale). 

So a baby’s first cry, his first breath, speaks the name of God. A deep sigh calls His name – or a groan or gasp that is too heavy for mere words. Even an atheist would speak His name unaware that their very breathe is giving constant acknowledgment to God. Likewise, a person leaves this earth with their last breath, when God’s name is no longer filing their lungs. 

So when I can’t utter anything else, is my cry calling out His name?

Being alive means I speak His name constantly.  Is it heard the loudest when I’m the quietest?

In sadness, we breathe heavy sighs. In joy, our lungs feel almost like they will burst. In fear we hold our breath and have to be told to breathe slowly to help us calm down. When we’re about to do something hard, we take a deep breath to find our courage.  

When I think about it, breathing is giving him praise. Even in the hardest moments! …God chose to give himself a name that we can’t help but speak every moment we’re alive. All of us, always, everywhere. Waking, sleeping, breathing, with the name of God on our lips.”

I had trouble sleeping last night. Linda and I were away from home, picking up my bike from the shop and seeing our granddaughter away at college. We stayed at a delightful B&B, but the room was warmer than we are used to, and the pillow fuller than I like. So I lay as I sometimes do, trying to pray. In the middle of the night, I can barely formulate a coherent sentence, let alone continual prayer. I may not be able to sleep, but neither can I pray. Until last night. I breathed in and exhaled out, slowly, “Yh…Wh; Yh…Wh,” breathing the Name of God, calming and settling my spirit till I drifted off to sleep. Thank you, Sandra Thurmon Caporale!