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"I am Prayer" (2)

Text file

(Part 2 of 2)

 

Summarized by Aviad Hacohen

 

            What is it that separates man from animal?  His ability to pray.  "You separated man from the start, and allowed him to stand before You" (from the High Holiday prayers).

 

            The Mishna (Bava Kama 1:1) teaches: "There are four primary types of damages: The ox and the pit, the 'mav'eh' and the fire."  According to one opinion, the "mav'eh" refers to man.  When compiling the Mishna, Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi was faced with a problem: it would not have been seemly for the Mishna to read, "...four primary types of damages - the ox, the pit, man, and fire."  Therefore man is not mentioned by name, but rather by means of one of one of his most accurate  descriptions -  'mav'eh,' from a root referring to prayer (as in the verse [Yishayahu 21:12] "Im tiv'ayun ba'ayu," "If you should pray, pray").  Only one single creature amongst all of creation is able to pray - man.  Indeed, could there be any more beautiful description of man, setting him aside from the beasts of the field?  He is not called, "the one who studies" or "the thinker," but rather "the one who prays."  This gives us some idea of the importance of the concept of prayer.

 

            There is another fundamental principle here - that of deficiency.  The Gemara in Megilla (15b) asks, "What made Esther invite Haman [to the feast]?"  One of the answers given is a quotation from Sefer Mishlei (25:21): "If your enemy is hungry, feed him bread."  The Maharal explains as follows: A person who is hungry is always alert, while someone who is satisfied after a meal tends to become drowsy.  Esther hoped to cause Haman to fall asleep, to blunt his alertness.  Therefore she sought to satisfy him.

 

            Human nature is such that a person always feels that he is "lacking," that something is causing him pain, and therefore he is defined as a being who prays and supplicates.  He engages not only in prayer of praise and thanksgiving, but also in petition.

 

            Prayer can be an experience which nourishes a person for many subsequent years.  A year ago, at the beginning of the month of Elul, several educators from a teachers' seminary gathered here as a type of "preparation" for the Yamim Nora'im.  We spoke of the necessity of petition to God.  Suddenly one of the teachers stood up and began sharing with all those present a prayer experience which he had had some dozen years previously.  After a short time his voice began to shake.  At the conclusion of his story, the director of the seminary told me: "It was all worth it, just to hear that  description."  A person can live his prayer and relive it for years thereafter.  Every prayer has the potential to serve as such an experience.  At the conclusion of his prayer a person should feel as though he is a changed person.

 

            Rav Kook wrote the following in his commentary to the siddur, "Olat Re'iyah":

 

"Prayer - for us and for the entire world - is an absolute necessity.  It is also the most sublime of pleasures."

 

Both a necessity and a pleasure.  The first contact that the great Rav Yaakov Moshe Charlap, of blessed memory, had with Rav Kook, his teacher whom he loved with all his soul, was after he had stayed once in Jaffa and had heard Rav Kook reciting Birkat Kohanim (the priestly blessing).  That was enough for him.  At that moment he attached himself to Rav Kook forever.

 

            However, there are many problems.  One of the main problems is that of "foreign thoughts," of wandering attention during prayer.  A Chassidic story describes a chassid who came to the Rebbe with the following complaint: "Rebbe, I have foreign thoughts."

 

            "Foreign?" asked the Rebbe.  "They aren't foreign at all.  They're all yours."

 

            R. Menachem Mendel of Vitebsk, student of the Maggid of Mezritch and a friend of the Ba'al HaTanya, used to say: "When a person stands in prayer and wishes to climb to heights which are beyond his grasp, they throw him down by means of foreign thoughts, which become entangled with his prayers."

 

            What does this mean?  When one's prayer is artificial, then there are foreign thoughts.  In a heart-to-heart conversation, in a genuine exchange, there are no foreign thoughts.  When one person talks directly to another, his mind does not wander.  When a person climbs to "heights which are beyond his grasp," when his prayer doesn't flow naturally from him, then he is attacked by foreign thoughts.

 

            There are those who invest an enormous amount of energy in bodily movements during prayer, convinced that they will thereby drive away foreign thoughts.  One could run an electric power station off some of the movements I see sometimes among the boys here.  True, one is permitted to sway slightly during prayer, but some people think that in order to arouse profound "kavanna" (concentrated devotion) one has to sway a lot.  As if physical movement has the power to solve a spiritual problem.  When King David said, "I shall pour out my complaint before Him," was he referring to jumping and moaning?  Certainly not.  "I shall pour out my complaint before Him" - the prayer flows; it is natural.

 

            The Gemara (Berakhot 28b) recounts the following story:

 

"When Rabbi Eliezer fell ill, his students came to visit him.  They said, 'Rabbi - teach us a way to conduct ourselves, that we may thereby merit eternal life.'  He answered, 'Be careful with the honor of your friends, and keep your children away from temptation, and seat them at the feet of talmidei chakhamim, and when you pray - know in front of Whom you are standing.  By means of this you will merit eternal life.'"

 

            Is this supposed to be some kind of great revelation?  If a person didn't know whom he was standing in front of, surely he wouldn't pray at all? But Rabbi Eliezer emphasized, "Know...." Don't be satisfied simply with "kavanna," for that can be artificial and external.  "Know in front of Whom you are standing" - then, out of that "knowledge," your prayer will be natural.

 

            "The early righteous ones used to tarry an hour before  prayer in order to direct their hearts towards their Father in heaven" (Mishna Berakhot 5:1).  Not because they needed to direct their hearts more, but in order that out of the knowledge of Whom they were standing in front of, their hearts would be directed automatically.  The Rambam likewise teaches in his Laws of Tefilla (4:16): "What is kavanna? A person must clear his heart of all thoughts and see himself as if he is standing before the Divine Presence."  One cannot rid oneself of foreign thoughts in an incidental manner, as if brushing them off.  There is only one solution: to stand (and see oneself as standing) before the Holy One, blessed be He. 

 

            We adopt the advice of the "early righteous ones" in our recitation of "pesukei de-zimra" (the first section of the prayer service, consisting of psalms and praises).  It is a mistake to think that by physical means, using energetic body movements, one can free oneself of foreign thoughts and to keep them at bay.  This is merely a "segula," a mystical remedy of the type described by the Ba'al Shem Tov: Once his students came to him and asked whether it was permissible for them to approach a famous Tzaddik, well-known for the "segulot" which he handed out to his followers.  The Ba'al Shem Tov replied, "If you want to go to him, then go."  They persisted and asked for a sign that would help them know whether he was a true Tzaddik, and not a charlatan.  The Ba'al Shem Tov replied, "I will give you a sign.  This Tzaddik gives 'segulot' for every type of illness and trouble.  Ask him for a 'segula' for foreign thoughts in prayer.  If he offers you one, then you can be sure he is a charlatan."

 

            Various prayer books contain biblical verses whose recital supposedly acts as a "segula against foreign thoughts."  Is it really segulot that we need?

 

            There is another metwhich appears far removed from us, but which is in fact "very close to us, in our mouths and in our hearts, to do it."  Chassidut teaches that when a particular issue is disturbing a person, he has to "elevate" those foreign thoughts; to "elevate the sparks." These kabbalistic concepts mean the following, in practical terms: You must translate the problem which occupies your thoughts into the language of prayer.  Whether you are thinking about business or family or anything else, God is certainly able to help you in solving the problem.  Don't banish this "foreign thought" from your mind; on the contrary - keep it with you, and turn that very thought into a prayer.

 

            Up until now we have been dealing with the experiential dimension of prayer, but we should certainly not ignore or belittle the importance of "dry" prayer.  Sometimes a person is not on the level which allows him to sense the experiential dimension of prayer.  We all hope that during the Yamim Nora'im which are approaching we shall merit from time to time - even just for a short while - a "great prayer," a tefilla which will leave an impression upon us for days and years to come.  But there are times when we simply don't succeed.  Despite this, we should not disdain the "dry" prayers devoid of the vitality of a lofty experience.

 

            A student once came to me with the following complaint: Throughout the month of Elul his prayer had been full of emotion and now, the day before Rosh Hashana, the "spring had dried up," everything was dry.  What was he to do? I told him, "Turn to God and say to Him, 'Master of the Universe, this is what there is.  I can't do any more than this.'"

 

            There is the world of "great" sacrifices - bulls, goats and sheep - and there is the world of the humble "mincha" - the meal-offering of the poor.  "Whatever his hand can attain."  Both are desirable to God.  "One with more and the other with less; so long as his heart is directed towards Heaven."

 

            At the beginning of parashat Ki Tavo (Devarim 26:1-3) we are commanded as to the recitation over the bikkurim (first fruits):

 

"And it shall come to pass when you come to the land which the Lord your God has given you as an inheritance, and you shall possess it and dwell in it; that you shall take of the first of all the fruit of the earth which you shall gather from the land which the Lord your God has given you and you shall place it in a basket, and you shall go to the place which the Lord your God shall choose to make His name dwell there.  And you shall come to the Kohen who will be in those days, and you shall say to him: 'I declare this day before the Lord your God that I have come to the land which God promised to our forefathers to give us.'"

 

            Rashi explains, "'I declare today' - I am not ungrateful.  I thank You for all the goodness."  The Midrash Tanchuma adds (beginning of Ki Tavo):

 

"Moshe perceived, by means of the divine spirit, and saw that the Temple was destined to be destroyed, and that the bikkurim would cease.  He therefore instituted [a law] for Israel that they should pray three times each day, because prayer is more beloved to God than any good deeds and any sacrifices."

 

            But what has ingratitude got to do with prayer? Rightfully, a person standing before God, with the first fruits of his land in his hands, should thank Him and say: "You have given me the strength to work the fields this year; please give me the strength to do the same during the coming year."  But is this the prayer that the bearer of the first fruits is commanded to recite?  No.  Instead he recites:

 

"And you shall speak and declare before the Lord your God: 'A wandering Aramean was my father, and he went down to Egypt, and lived there with a few, and became a great nation there; great, mighty and numerous.  And the Egyptians were evil towards us, and tortured us, and gave us hard labor.  And we cried to the Lord God of our fathers, and the Lord heard our voice, and saw our suffering, and our labor, and our oppression.  And the Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand, and with an outstretched arm, and with great terror, and with signs, and with wonders.  And he brought us to this place, and gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey.  And now, behold, I have brought the first fruits of the land which you, O God, have given me.' And you shall set it before the Lord your God, and you shall prostrate yourself before the Lord your God."

 

            The Torah is concerned lest a person who is busy with his vineyard and his field, his vine and his fig tree, come to forget the Nation of Israel, God forbid.  All his desires will be subordinated to his own progress, to material acquisitions, directed towards the construction of his house and his estate.  "What car shall I buy?  What type of house shall I build?"  The Torah therefore commands us, "Go up to Jerusalem.  Forget your private concerns for a while.  Concern yourself with the nation, with its history and its fate.  And at the end, don't forget to thank, praise and glorify God - 'which You, O God, have given me.'  All of these issues - the history of Am Yisrael, the exodus from Egypt - are also part of you.  '...which You...  have given ME.'"

 

            The same problem exists in the diaspora.  A multitude of existential troubles and concerns occupy the individual in his effort towards his personal survival.  And what is to become of Am Yisrael?  Therefore Moshe instituted the custom of praying three times each day.  Tefilla is not limited to the individual's problems and troubles.  Tefilla directs itself towards the community, towards Am Yisrael as a whole.  "Cause the offspring of David, Your servant, to flourish," "Restore our judges as of old, and our counselors as at first," "Rebuild Jerusalem," "May our eyes behold Your return to Zion in compassion."

 

            Moreover, tefilla expresses our complete dependence on God.  Were it not for Him, we wouldn't be holding these first fruits.  Without God a person has neither knowledge nor the possibility of teshuva, neither redemption nor healing, neither "restoration of judges" nor "dew and rain for a blessing," neither the rebuilding of Jerusalem nor the blessing of peace.  Everything depends on the will of God.

 

            The foundation of faith is to be found in tefilla.  Through tefilla man expresses his complete dependence on God.  Tefilla strengthens our faith.

 

            Yishayahu declared (45:22): "Look to Me and be saved, all the ends of the earth, for I am God, and [aside from Me] there is no other."  The teachings of Chassidut went one step further: "Aside from Me - there is nothing."  In our prayers, we thank God "for Your miracles and Your wonders which are with us every day, and for Your wonders and Your favors at all times - evening, morning and noon."  For all of this, "Look to Me and be saved, all the ends of the earth."

 

            But tefilla also requires merit on our part.  There are those who follow the custom of giving tzedaka before tefilla, others give in the middle (just before the section beginning "Va-yevarekh David").  We, as students of Torah, enjoy a certain "discount," but unfortunately we don't take advantage of it as we should.  The Gemara (Berakhot 8a) teaches:

 

"Rabbi Chiya bar Ami said in the name of Ula: Since the day on which the Temple was destroyed, God has nothing left in His world but four cubits of Halakha alone. And Abaye taught: At first I used to study Torah in my home and pray in the synagogue.  But since I heard that [which] Rabbi Chiya bar Ami said in the name of Ula ... I only pray in the place in which I study.

Rabbi Ami and Rabbi Assi, although they had thirteen synagogues in Tiberias, used to pray only between the columns [of the beit ha-midrash], in the place where they studied."

 

            I have heard that there are some students who wish to pray in a synagogue during the Yamim Nora'im, because "it's more comfortable there; it's not so crowded."  Is it really so easy to forgo the opportunity for tefilla "between the columns," "in the place in which I study?"  My intention is not to reproach; I merely wish to say that we have a special privilege, the abilitto pray in the place in which we study.  And we should avail ourselves of that opportunity, and be thankful for it.

 

            Let me conclude with the same words with which I began.  One of the things which requires constant reinforcement is prayer.  Tefilla is the source of faith, and its foundation.  Man's true happiness is to be found in tefilla, and the ability to pray defines him as "man."  Man is nothing but a "mav'eh" - one who prays.  In the words of King David: "I am prayer."

 

 (Originally delivered in Elul 5755.

Translated by Kaeren Fish.)

 

 

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