‘Yehi Ratzon’: Why do we pray for God’s will instead of ours?
This article published first on www.jns.org ‘Yehi Ratzon’: Why do we pray for God’s will instead of ours? | JNS.org
The hunger for God persists even in machines. A recent New York Times article noted that people are “confessing their secrets and searching for something omniscient” in chatbots. As Jews prepare to celebrate Rosh Hashanah, that same hunger echoes in the Yehi Ratzon prayers: “May it be Your will.” But whose will are we really invoking: God’s or our own?
These prayers, recited with symbolic foods, ask for sweetness in the year ahead, an end to enemies, release from toxic ties, and the wisdom to lead with merit and good deeds. Each begins: “May it be Your will, God, and the God of our ancestors … .” Yet in truth, these are actions we must discern and enact ourselves.
Are we not the ones who recognize our adversaries, our shortfalls, and our merits? So why frame the prayers as pleas to God? Perhaps—though not the traditional reading—the Torah hints at another possibility: that the scribes shaped God in humanity’s image. Not as a deity demanding blind worship, but as a literary mirror and moral model, embodying our struggles and showing us how to live with clarity, responsibility and truth. God may be the hero of the story, but the scribes were its authors and we its readers, called to wrestle with the narratives.
At a time when the world wrestles with God’s meaning, we are reminded that to find Him, we must first define Him—just as God named each element of creation. For the past two decades, our family has chosen a theme for our Rosh Hashanah seder. This year, in honor of conservative activist Charlie Kirk and his unwavering faith in God, our theme is simply: What is your concept of God? What role does God play in the Torah—and in our life?
Genesis begins: “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.”
Traditionally, we read that “God created humankind in His image” (Genesis 1:27). But perhaps the reverse is true—that the scribes shaped God in humanity’s image. Not to demand blind worship, but as a mirror of our moral dilemmas and a model for clarity, responsibility and truth. In this light, God is the story’s hero, the scribes its authors, and we are the readers, called to wrestle with the text and decide how to write our own lives.
Wrestling with God, wrestling with ourselves
Rosh Hashanah and the High Holidays reveal God’s duality—compassionate and cruel, constructive and destructive, merciful and merciless. In truth, these stories mirror our own human capacity to harm or heal, divide or unite, breach or build. The lesson endures: Real power emerges from responsibility, the choice to repair with purpose.
The story of Adam and Eve depicts God as judge, delivering consequences due to failing accountability when eating from the forbidden tree, and then hiding in denial and blame. They reveal that avoidance deepens harm, while accountability becomes the path to repair.
The story of Noah’s Ark shows God’s anger flooding the earth to cleanse corruption, yet destroying the good as well. In acknowledging that unchecked anger is destructive, God offers the rainbow covenant as a sign of restraint and accountability.
The story of the Binding of Isaac exposes the tension between leaders and people, warning against blind obedience. God is portrayed as cruel, testing Abraham’s faith by demanding the sacrifice of his son. The true lesson is not to surrender our agency, but to question authority, set boundaries and protect the vulnerable.
The ram’s horn (shofar) becomes a symbol of the “angels” in our lives, guiding us toward constructive solutions. Its very name means “to improve” or “to make better.” Its three sounds remind us of our responsibility: tekiah awakens us to what demands attention; shevarim calls us to mend what is broken; and teruah is the joy and celebration of repair and resolution.
Each story casts God as the central character, navigating trials and relationships—emotional, moral and conflicted—mirroring humanity’s own struggles. Yet within every predicament lies a lesson, expressed through covenants, commandments and commitments. Wholeness emerges when we take responsibility for our well-being, existence and actions, for no one knows our inner world better than we do.
Our task is to be honest with ourselves, acknowledge what ours is to carry and correct, and turn pain into purpose. In doing so, we restore trust within ourselves and others and rise above ego with humility for the collective good.
‘Yehi Ratzon’ meaning and map
This Rosh Hashanah, as we recite the Yehi Ratzon prayers, we are reminded that each “May it be Your will” is not only directed to God but invites us to pause, ask hard questions, and act with clarity and humility.
- Apples in honey: Bring sweetness into bitterness.
Question: Where can I add kindness where life feels bitter? - Dates and beets: End lies, hatred and resentment.
Question: What truths do I need to release? - Carrots and leeks: Turn destructive behaviors into productive ones.
Question: Which habits can I reshape to be a better self? - Beans: Nurture community.
Question: How can I seed and strengthen trust within my inner circle? - Pomegranates: Symbolize abundance.
Question: What small actions can multiply blessings for others? - Fish head calls upon us to lead with discernment.
Question: How shall I lead, and whose wisdom should I follow?
This Rosh Hashanah, let Yehi Ratzon be more than a prayer. Let it be an invitation to author your life: to lead with purpose, seek truth and uplift others.
So, whose will do we pray to? Who do we truly wrestle with? The answer dwells within us. Just like the spirit of God, we, too, carry the Creator’s spark, the power to author our own life. Like the shofar, each moment calls upon us to awaken, improve and rejoice.
Charlie Kirk embodied this truth: anchoring his life in faith and leaving a lasting imprint on millions. His legacy is built not by chance, but by choice.
Yehi Ratzon—may it be God’s will, and may it be our will—to awaken the spark within, turning chaos into clarity and struggle into strength for betterment of future generations.

