Rabbi Stiefel's Monthly Article

Rabbi Sharon Stiefel, Current April 2026

Healer of Broken Hearts

Last month, I traveled to Philadelphia for the Reconstructionist Rabbinical Association Convention, followed by the Reconstructing Judaism Convention. There were many highlights -- rich learning, meaningful connection -- but what remains most powerful for me is the music.

Among the most memorable moments was a concert by the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College Music Collective. About ten current students and recent graduates shared original liturgical compositions, weaving together voice and instrument. Writing about it feels inadequate; it is the kind of experience that needs to be heard rather than described.

One piece in particular has stayed with me: Rabbi Solomon Hoffman’s setting of lines three and four from Psalm 147 Harofei. (you can listen at this link)  Sung in both Hebrew and English, the words center on harofei “the One who heals”:

Harofei lishvurei lev, umchabeish l'atzvotam, Healer of the brokenhearted, binder of their sorrows

Moneh mispar la-kochavim, l’chulam shemot yikra, Counter of the stars, who calls each by name

Hoffman’s melody has stayed with me since I first heard it, recorded a year after the pandemic, and experiencing it live was exhilarating. These words especially resonate in our present moment, when so many of us carry fragile hearts here in the Twin Cities, where Operation Metro Surge lingers in our communal consciousness, the collective stress and uncertainty creating emotional wounds.

A commentary by Talmud scholar Adin Steinsaltz deepens this image. He notes that the Hebrew word atzvotam, often translated as “wounds,” more literally means “sorrows.” The healing described here is not only physical but spiritual: a binding up of grief, a tending to what aches within. The same passage reminds us that the One who heals also “counts the stars” and “calls them by name” an image of infinite vastness paired with intimate knowing.

What a striking juxtaposition: the One who holds the cosmos also attends to each broken heart.

In fact, the Hebrew of this psalm never explicitly names God. Instead, it offers the images of healer, counter of stars, and namer of all that exists. This opens a space for interpretation. For some, these words point to God. For others, they may evoke the healing power of community, love, and human resilience. However we understand it, the message is that broken hearts can be tended and sorrow can be met with care.

To say that each star is counted and named is to suggest that each of us is also known, seen, and treasured. Whether we understand that “knowing” as coming from God, from one another, or from the simple truth of our shared humanity, it reminds us that we matter.

Medieval commentator David Kimhi (the Radak) expanded this further, imagining a universe in which every star has purpose and influence. “All the stars have a strong hold over the lower creatures, each one of a type that gives it strength to do its work.”  Nothing is insignificant; everything is part of a web of meaning and care.

The metaphor suggests that just as the stars are named, so are we. Our names matter because they reflect our uniqueness. Poet Rabbi Rachel Barenblat offers a loving interpretive translation of this divine care: “You darn the heels of our hearts, and comfort us with bandages.” It paints a picture of slow, careful mending, reminding us that healing may unfold quietly and barely visible, yet deeply real. 

Psalm 147 is recited daily in our morning services. It reminds us that we are not alone. The Source of Life, however we understand that idea, or even if we do not use that language at all, can be experienced in the presence of those who show up for us, in the gradual process of healing, and in light that reaches us even in dark times.

May we feel that presence in moments of sorrow. May we remember that we are known by name.
And may the light of the stars help heal the wounds in our hearts.