Giving thanks. The first words we're taught to say each morning immediately on waking are

modere ani. I give thanks, which means we thank before we think. Note that the normal word order

is inverted. We say moda ani, not ani moda. So that in Hebrew, the thanks comes before

the eye. Judaism is gratitude with attitude. And this according to recent scientific research

really is a life-enhancing idea. The source of the command to give thanks is to be found in

this week's Parasha. Among the sacrifices it itemizes is the Corban Toda, the Thanksgiving offering.

If he offers it as a Thanksgiving offering, then along with the Thanksgiving offering,

he's to offer unleavened loaves mixed with oil,

unleavened wafers spread with oil,

and loaves have found fine flour well-needed and mixed with oil.

Though we have been without sacrifices for almost 2,000 years,

a trace of that Thanksgiving offering survives to this day in the form of the blessing

Hagomel, Hagomel of Chayovim Tovot, who bestows good things on the unworthy, which we say in

synagogue at the time of the reading of the Torah, and it's said by somebody who has survived

a hazardous situation, defined by the

sages as somebody who survived a sea crossing or traveled across a desert or recovered from

serious illness or been released from captivity. For me, the almost universal instinct to give thanks

is one of the signals of transcendence

in the human condition.

It isn't just the pilot we want to thank when we land safely after a hazardous flight.

Not just the surgeon when we survive an operation, not just the judge or politician when we're released from

prison or captivity. It's as if some larger force was operative, as if the hand that moves

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