It is a carefully structured piece of liturgy, both poetic and theological, that opens the heart of prayer by affirming the sacred power of the Divine word, and by extension, the profound creative and transformative power inherent in every spoken word. Rooted in the very first moments of creation and in the mystery of speech as an act of making-real, Baruch SheAmar links cosmology to daily liturgy.

בָּרוּךְ שֶׁאָמַר וְהָיָה הָעוֹלָם, בָּרוּךְ אוֹמֵר וְעוֹשֶׂה, בָּרוּךְ גּוֹזֵר וּמְקַיֵּם, בָּרוּךְ אֵל חַי לָעַד וְקַיָּם לָנֶֽצַח, בָּרוּךְ עֹשֶׂה בְרֵאשִׁית, בָּרוּךְ מְרַחֵם עַל הָאָֽרֶץ, בָּרוּךְ מְרַחֵם עַל הַבִּרְיוֹת, בָּרוּךְ מְשַׁלֵּם שָׂכָר טוֹב לִירֵאָיו, בָּרוּךְ פּוֹדֶה וּמַצִּיל, בָּרוּךְ הוּא וּבָרוּךְ שְׁמוֹ. בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ מֶֽלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, הָאֵל הַמֶּלֶך הַמְהֻלָּל, הַמְשֻׁבָּח וְהַמְּפֹאָר בְּפִי עַמּוֹ וּבִלְשׁוֹן כָּל חֲסִידָיו וַעֲבָדָיו, וּבְשִׁירֵי דָוִד עַבְדָּךְ נְהַלְּלָךְ יְיָ אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ וּנְשַׁבְּחָךְ וּנְרוֹמְמָךְ וּנְגַדְּלָךְ וְנַמְלִיכָךְ וְנַזְכִּיר אֶת שִׁמְךָ, מַלְכֵּֽנוּ, אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ, יָחִיד, חַי הָעוֹלָמִים, מֶֽלֶךְ מְשֻׁבָּח וּמְפֹאָר עֲדֵי עַד שִׁמְךָ הַגָּדוֹל. בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, מֶֽלֶךְ מְהֻלָּל בַּתִּשְׁבָּחוֹת.

Blessed is the Source who spoke and the world came into being. Blessed is the Source who speaks and acts, who decrees and fulfills, the eternal and living Force, who shapes the beginning, who maternally has compassion on the earth and its creatures, who grants fitting reward to those who revere, who liberates and saves. Blessed is He, and blessed is His Name. You are blessed, YHWH, our God, Sovereign of the universe, exalted and glorified by the mouth of Your people, praised by the lips of Your devoted and faithful servants. And with the songs of David, Your servant, we shall praise You, YHWH our God, we shall exalt You, glorify You, crown You as King, and call upon Your Name, our Sovereign and our God, Unique, Infinite Life, exalted and glorified beyond all time and name. You are blessed, YHWH, Sovereign exalted in praises.

This liturgical composition unfolds as a long and rich blessing, marked by the rhythmic repetition of the word barukh—“blessed” or more accurately, “source of blessing”—almost like a mantra. In some ancient versions, the term barukh appears ten times, echoing the ten utterances of “And Elohim said…” in the Genesis creation narrative. The opening focus of Baruch SheAmar is on the profound coherence between word and action—a foundational concern in liturgical contexts, where the risk that words remain merely words is very real.

Genesis teaches that the world is “spoken” into being by the Transcendensce, a world made by the speech. Jewish tradition holds that “death and life are in the hands of the tongue.” Our speech can give life and build worlds—or it can undo them. In the biblical creation story, the act of creation unfolds through separations: between light and darkness, waters above and below, sea and dry land, day and night, and between species of animals. The first “Let there be light” (Gen. 1:3) is not about producing light ex nihilo, but rather separating it from preexistent darkness. This act of imposing boundaries creates structure, giving rise to the Jewish fascination with defined distinctions, as between kasher and taref, milk and meat, linen and wool, life and death.

Yet Jewish tradition also displays a profound sensitivity toward thresholds—those gray zones that lie between categories. The twilight periods of dawn and dusk, for instance, are the subject of intense rabbinic debate, as they determine the boundaries of halakhic day and night, including the beginning and end of Shabbat and festivals. The Oral Torah in particular dwells in these liminal spaces, articulating a spiritual sensibility that embraces both the fixed and the fluid, the defined and the ambiguous.

Interestingly, while much of creation in Genesis is accomplished through speech, the human being is created differently. Humans are not “spoken” into being but rather formed directly, perhaps precisely because they arise where speech is absent, as to indicate that humanity must in some way speak itself into being. Even then, the human is then divided, separated into male and female. Like light and darkness, these are not strict binaries in nature, but archetypes constructed in the act of separation. Rabbinic tradition, again, tends to explore what lies between such poles, the fluidity and complexity that bridges opposites.

In the first half of Baruch SheAmar, the Source of blessing remains unnamed, described only by its actions, that is speaking the world into being. Only in the second part do we find the classical blessing formula: “You are the source of blessing, YHWH…”. Notably, the Divine is identified with the Tetragrammaton, YHWH, a name built from all the forms of the verb “to be”—past, present, and future. The ineffable Name thus reflects the very essence of Being itself—the One who brings existence into existence.

The phrase “who forms the beginning, who maternally has compassion on the earth and its creatures” suggests a theology not only of creation but of continual beginnings. Every moment holds the potential for reshit—a new beginning. True creation is not only about making, but about allowing what has been made to continue, to err, to fall, and to rise again. In the Torah, after the Flood, the Transcendence promises never again to destroy the world entirely, in an act of divine self-restraint that infuses creation with the potential for renewal and healing. Human beings are called to follow this path. Abraham’s plea for Sodom, Moses’ intercession for Israel—these are not just stories of compassion, but paradigms of the human being as partner and even almost as a guide for God in sustaining the world.

To apply this to human life is to live in such a way that the future remains open, never foreclosed. Every end can be a new reshit, a new possible beginning.

The phrase “who grants fitting reward to those who revere” should not be read quantitatively, but qualitatively. The reward is not a measurable prize but a state of inner coherence—living with the same integrity and vitality through which the world itself was spoken into being. Such an alignment grants resilience in the face of life's struggles, lessening their sting and transforming isolation into connection.

The second part of Baruch SheAmar shifts into the classical structure of a berakhah. As the core of Pesukei Dezimra is the recitation of Psalms, the blessing prepares us to enter that world: “With the songs of David Your servant we shall praise You…” The transition from speech to song, from statement to Psalm, marks the opening of the heart to sacred poetry. We are not only reflecting on creation through speech—we are about to join it with our own.

In Baruch SheAmar, prayer begins with the affirmation that the world is made, then shaped again and again, through language. To speak with integrity is to align ourselves with the Divine pattern that shapes creation. To recite the blessing is not merely to praise, but to become a source of life. The liturgy invites us not only to remember that the world was spoken into being—but to dare to speak it again, with care and responsibility, and with hope.