The Hebrew word netzor derives from the root “to stop.” When you push the button on a bus in Israel, to signal that you want to get off shortly, the neon word “Atzor” starts glowing near the driver. The following prayer is one part of the private meditation of a great Talmudic sage named Mar, the son of Ravina, who lived during the 4th century in Babylonia. Though it has no official title, this meditation is known by its first two words “Elohai Netzor” [My God, Stop]. It urges us to begin the long but extremely rewarding process of self-discipline and inner growth. 

Elohai Netzor- My God, Stop

“My God, stop (guard) my tongue from evil and my lips from [speaking] deceit.
And to those that curse me, let my soul be silent. And let my soul be like the dust to all.
Open my heart to Your Torah, and let my soul pursue your commandments.”

The formidable power of language unleashed

The first few words of this prayer are often translated into English as ”God, guard my tongue.” But, as we’ve noted, netzor means `stop.’ So the line should read “God, stop my tongue.” In its tracks. What is the difference between “to guard” and “to stop”? When we ask for something to be guarded, we think of that thing as quite static, like a bank vault or a prisoner in a cell. The potential is there for the object to be stolen or the prisoner to make a jail break, so their movements need to be guarded. But to stop something is to imply that it is already in motion, that it will keep progressing unless we find a way to bring it to a halt. 

Mar’s language suggests his belief in the formidable power of language unleashed. Some words—words that are evil, the prayer states–must be stopped before they can gain momentum. Mar’s prayer is a candid exposure of the darker side of human expression, our jealousy and resentment, our tawdry gossip and impulsive remarks that, once let loose, cannot ever be reined in or recovered.   

Whatever is toxic on the inside is going to leak out

At a closer glance, the structure of the prayer sets up a binary, contrasting between the things we say and how we feel inside. For Mar, the root of this human problem lies not in how we speak, but in the feelings that cause us to speak this way. Do we find it hard to let things go? Do we carry all those messy unresolved tensions inside? Is my soul tranquil or noisy, at peace or agitated? The very heart of this prayer is: whatever is toxic on the inside is going to leak out verbally in our daily interactions. Mar addresses the part of us that often needs to speak as a result of jealousy or ego or victimhood. 

When the soul is peaceful… then right speech can follow.

To stem this lethal flow of words requires a fundamental rerouting of our inner life. There is a reciprocal interaction between quieting our souls and stopping our tongues. When the soul is peaceful, and does not feel the Pavlovian need to react, then right speech can follow. 

All this talk about `inner peace’ only begs the question: “how does one cultivate it”? The psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler–Ross famously formulated a series of emotions experienced by terminally ill patients prior to death, or by people who had suffered the loss of a loved one. These five stages are: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. 

This last stage, acceptance, does not mean you are “ok” with the loss, but rather that you understand the reality that has occurred and the permanence of the situation and that you will be able to move on. Your partner is not coming back. You are not going to overcome your illness. This is not a good thing, to be sure, but it is something with which you have come to terms. In that sense, acceptance is not just the final stage of dying, it is the ultimate stage of living. 

Inner silence, the most joyous and meaningful way possible.

Acceptance, like silence, is not passivity. It is the ability to relate to life as it is, so that we may be free to spend our time in the most joyous and meaningful way possible. The Buddhist teacher Dr. Thynn Thynn offers a similar idea about inner silence: “A silent mind is not a dead or static mind. A mind is dead or static when it is dulled with ignorance of oneself. A truly silent mind, on the other hand, is alert and sensitive to its surroundings. This is because a silent mind is devoid of judging, clinging or rejecting.” 

 So a “silent soul” does not translate into “repress your emotions” or “shut up and you’ll find inner peace”. It is not a resigned surrender to the situation, in the same way that acceptance is not giving up on our dreams, but a form of learning how to disregard what we cannot control in order to maximize what we can. Being “silent” is an active expression. If we work on cultivating the habit of “stopping” in order to be silent, we are able to commune with our thoughts and sort out what is going on inside. The silent mind is the first step in the chain of release that lies at the very core of Mar’s process of liberation.

Being “silent” is an active expression…and a lifetime practice.

To forge that “silent mind” is a lifetime practice, but Mar has a powerful opening suggestion. We need to close our mouths long enough for our hearts to open. We pray “Open my heart to Your Torah, and let my soul pursue your commandments.” Mar proposes a two-stage solution. The first is to curb (as much as possible) the need to immediately respond to others. But any prayer urging us not to do something is likely an exercise in futility, unless it can suggest an alternative way of being that can be implemented immediately. So the second equally important stage, is to build up a positive reservoir of emotionally/spiritually sustaining daily acts and practices (represented by the phrase ”open my heart to your Torah and let my soul pursue your commandments”). 

To foster any kind of enormous spiritual transformation requires some kind of grounding reference point to which one can return in order to maintain the commitment to change. In Mar’s world, that ground is Torah, a tradition of wisdom, that offers guidance on how to live, to speak and act with dignity, compassion and permanence. “Open the heart to Torah” is another way of saying, `give me something that will be a life-long companion and guide to achieving that inner quiet.’

Perhaps there is an even deeper message underlying the others in this prayer, which is the element that allows for the stage of acceptance to take place. When we carry around feelings about other people–or about our lives–that are perpetually negative, it is because we have been unable to mourn experiences of disappointment or loss. Dr. Robert Karen, in his book The Forgiving Self, examines forgiveness not as an occasional response to a dramatic impasse in our relationships, but as a regimen that becomes a skill we learn to exercise every day of our lives. 

He writes: “No friendship, no marriage, no family connections of any kind would last if the silent reparative force of forgiveness were not working almost constantly to counteract the corrosive effects of resentment and bitterness. Without forgiveness there could be no allowance for human frailty. We would keep moving on, searching for perfect connections with mythical partners who would never hurt or disappoint.”

On some basic level, the “soul of dust” of which Mar speaks is inextricably linked to forgiveness work, to our ability to let go of what others may have done to us, and cut the cord that strangles our future and keeps our hearts hostage. The courage to let go of our resentments leads to that shining hour where we can say:

I don’t need to compare my life to anyone else.
I don’t need to worry about the treadmill of approval.
I don’t need to have the last word. 

In her short novel, Asa As I Knew Him, Susanna Kaysen presents a female narrator, Dinah, who is caught up in a doomed love affair with the title character. At one point, knowing that she and Asa are officially “not speaking” to one another, Dinah must summon her full energies to avoid reaching out to him. As she puts it, “My telephone is in front of me. We don’t call each other. For me, not calling him is an activity.” For Mar, not speaking is an activity, and one of the most important ones we will ever do.