I recently described the phenomenon of “benchphobia,” a tongue-in-cheek term to refer to one’s desire to avoid eating bread so one does not have to bench, to someone who is fairly new to observant Jewish practice. She was baffled by it, because “doesn’t benching only take five minutes?” She couldn’t understand why someone would alter what they eat in order to avoid having to spend a couple of minutes reciting blessings afterwards. Though she is entirely correct, the fact is that many of us do, at least on occasion, decline to eat bread for this reason. Why do we find benching so onerous, and how can we reframe it?

In order to properly explore these questions we must first remember that, for Chazal, bread was synonymous with the consumption of a full meal. This means that benching was an inherent component of a complete meal, and not something optional.

In the Babylonian Talmud Berachot 48b, the rabbis outline a series of blessings to be recited after consuming a meal with bread. They derive this d’orayta, or Biblical, obligation from a verse in this week’s parsha: “When you have eaten your fill, give thanks (v’achalta v’savata, u’verachta) to the Eternal your God for the good land given to you” (Devarim 8:10).

There must be something unique about benching, as it is the only bracha associated with food consumption that is biblically mandated and not rabbinic. The Ramban connects the act of benching to our memory of slavery and suffering in the midbar. Just a few pesukim before, in Devarim 8:2-3, Moshe commands the nation to remember their forty-year journey and how God made them suffer in order to teach them to appreciate that God is their sole provider. The Ramban views “v’achalta v’savata, u’verachta” as a natural continuation of that memory. Because the nation will retain the memory of their suffering in the midbar, when they eat and become full in the Land of Israel, they will appreciate what they have now, and offer blessings to God. The Malbim takes this one step further, and argues that God purposefully made the Israelites suffer in the midbar in order to inculcate within them this appreciation, which they will express through blessing God after they eat.

Viewed through this lens, benching serves a humbling purpose. Indeed Devarim is replete with caution against allowing ourselves to grow haughty and start to believe that our successes are of our own making. We are repeatedly warned not to fall into this trap, and instead to remember that everything we have comes from God. Thanking God after we eat is one of the mechanisms that the Torah builds into our lives to prevent this from happening.

There is a potential downside to framing benching as an obligation—it then feels like one! As we see with “benchphobia,” when we are presented with the opportunity to avoid doing one of our many obligations, many of us will seize it,even if the actual performance of the obligation is minimally invasive.

How can we frame benching more positively? Is it possible to see it as an opportunity, and not only an obligation? With this in mind, I want to conclude with the perspective of the Shadal, R. Samuel David Luzzatto (1800-1865). He notes that the word “u’verachta” is not a language of commandment, but of description; you will eat, you will be satisfied, and you will bless God. As he explains, this language indicates that benching is not intended as a commandment, but rather as a description of a natural process that will happen when we eat. When we arrive in the Land of Israel, we will enjoy such an abundance of food and success that, when we eat, we will instinctively recognize God’s chesed, and we will naturally be drawn to bless God for what God has given us. In other words, benching is not an obligation to be done after eating a meal, but rather a direct and natural outgrowth of the meal itself.

In a world in which we routinely enjoy complete meals without consuming bread, it can be tempting to avoid benching. However, as the Shadal reminds us, viewing benching as an obligation that we can escape is a fundamental misunderstanding of the intention of the pasuk. The challenge this presents all of us is how we can cultivate in ourselves the sense of gratitude that the Shadal describes, so that thanking God for our food becomes not an obligation to be avoided, but an organic outgrowth of what it means to enjoy abundance.