The opening of every Amidah prayer is an evocation of our ancestors. More exactly, of the relationship between G-d and our ancestors. The phrase “our G-d and G-d of our ancestors” is meant to underscore an emotional and familial connection. We all know how meaningful it is when a parent and a child share the same teacher; when the same caterer was engaged to celebrate all three children’s bnai mitzvah; when we’ve gone to the same baker, insurance agent, dry cleaner, etc. for generations. And, speaking personally, when the same rabbi was there for the bris, the bar mitzvah, and the chuppah. There is something comforting about such relationships. In an uncertain world, they act as an anchor, firmly attaching us to a particular place and a particular community. And that is invaluable, a source of sanity and security.
All that is deeply reassuring, but it pales in comparison to knowing that the same G-d is with us as with our great-great-grandfather(s) and -grandmother(s)!
On the other hand, our G-d would be a puny G-d indeed if G-d were merely our family deity. And that is why this blessing, after mentioning G-d’s personal relationship with the tribe, goes on to state that our G-d is also “the G-d Who is Great, Powerful, and Awesome, the G-d on High.”
So in this prayer, the pendulum swings from tribal deity to cosmic thunderer, and then swings back again, now emphasizing that this all-powerful
G-d, “performs acts of kindness, is in control of all, and remembers the righteousness of our ancestors.”
Finally, the text combines these themes of personal relationship and transcendent power by emphasizing that G-d will bring a redeemer to the “great-grandchildren” (us) because redemption is the very nature of
G-d.
This counterpoint of G-d’s personal intimacy and G-d’s cosmic transcendence runs through the entire symphony of Jewish thought. “Our” G-d is at one and the same time the G-d of the entire universe.
Imagine that!