On Prayer…To fill my heart, to think the thoughts…
Rabbi Tom Samuels
Rabbi David Aaron teaches that we don’t have prayer in Judaism. That Jews don’t pray. “Pray” or “prayer” is an English word from the Latin precari which means to ask earnestly, to beg, to entreat, to supplicate. In Hebrew, the word most commonly used for "prayer" is t'fillah. And the act, l'hitpalel, is in the reflective intensive verb form, Heetpael. That rather than trying to change a predetermined fate, to influence God, the tradition of prayer in Judaism, l'hitpalel, is an act of self-evolution. That I am trying to change myself, rather than God. I am trying to palel myself.
But what type of evolution? What sort of change? To what are we to aspire towards?
In the Torah, Joseph comes to his father Jacob and asks for blessings for his two sons, Ephraim and Menashe, Jacob’s grandsons. Imagine how emotionally charged this moment must have been. Jacob had thought his favored son Joseph was dead, and now, not only is Joseph alive, Jacob can see and bless Joseph’s children, his grandchildren. Jacob says to Joseph: “I had not thought (pallati) to see your face. And, lo, God has let me see your children as well.” (Genesis 48:11)
The great Medieval commentator RASHI explains that palalti means, “To fill my heart, to think the thoughts.”
When palalti is inserted in to the reflective verb form, as in l'hitpalel, the act of prayer is understood as an exercise of personal vision and imagination. To dream the dreams. To anticipate the unimaginable and yet to imagine it none the less. To fill my heart, to think the thoughts.
The actor Martin Sheen once said that he sees prayer as the one time in his life when he is commanded to use his own imagination. Sheen relates the passage in the New Testament when Jesus’ followers ask him, “Teach us how to pray.” What a curious question. After all, they were devout, practicing Jews, with a very structured form of prayer, worship, and sacrifice. Sheen points out that they were asking, wanting, to go deeper. To get more personal. He ends with a story about 9-11. Where was God on 9-11, he is asked? And he challenges the almost cliche answer, “Well, there’s good and there’s evil in the world, and we have to be aware of that,” That just didn’t cut it or him. Didn’t suffice. “Well,” continues Sheen, “my response to that would have been that God was in the towers. God was present to each individual going through that horrible… facing their own death, individually and with a community. That God is present in our deepest hungers, in our worst times as well as our best.”
We are all visionaries, imagining peace redemption, health, in the world, teaches Rabbi Harold Schulweis, Z”L. And, when we l’hitpalel, we are doing a self-induced experience of aspiring towards this. Reversing those transitive, theological questions, from, Does God hear our prayers? Does God answer our prayers? Does God act in history? Does God care?… to the reflective, the internalized, Do I hear? Do I respond? Do I intervene? Do I care? Our questions about God are ultimately about our own selves.
Rabbi Rami Shapiro retells a wonderful Hassidic story about seeking your own spiritual path to a da’at d’veikut, the revelation of your inherent oneness, union, that already exists with God.
Reb Yissachar Dov of Radoshitz traveled to see his rebbe, Reb Yaakov Yitzchak, the Chozeh of Lublin. Arriving at his rebbe’s study, he said, “Show me one general way that all of us might serve God.” “One way?” the Seer said. “What makes you think there is one way? Are people all the same that a single practice would suit them all?” “Then how am I to teach people to find God?” Rebbe Yissachar Dov asked. “It is impossible to tell people how they should serve. For one, the way is the way of study; for another, the way is the way of prayer; for another, the way is the way of fasting or feasting; for another, the way is the way of service to one’s neighbor.” “Then what shall I tell those who ask me for guidance in this area?” “Tell them this,” the Chozeh said. “Carefully observe the way of your own heart, see what stirs your passion for God and godliness, and then do that with all your heart and all your strength.”
Rabbi Rami gleans from this story that, when it comes to spirituality, do not fall for “one size fits all.” Find your size, and wear it proudly. And so, while we pray together, in a collective exercise of visionary thinking, we l’hitpalel, encounter God, hear God’s presence, the Shechinah, in our own, unique ways. That there is no single normative Jewish approach to how to think and feel as Jews. To experience God. It is transitive. It is reflective. It is L’hitpalel… To fill my heart, to think the thoughts.
Rabbi Tom Samuels
Rabbi David Aaron teaches that we don’t have prayer in Judaism. That Jews don’t pray. “Pray” or “prayer” is an English word from the Latin precari which means to ask earnestly, to beg, to entreat, to supplicate. In Hebrew, the word most commonly used for "prayer" is t'fillah. And the act, l'hitpalel, is in the reflective intensive verb form, Heetpael. That rather than trying to change a predetermined fate, to influence God, the tradition of prayer in Judaism, l'hitpalel, is an act of self-evolution. That I am trying to change myself, rather than God. I am trying to palel myself.
But what type of evolution? What sort of change? To what are we to aspire towards?
In the Torah, Joseph comes to his father Jacob and asks for blessings for his two sons, Ephraim and Menashe, Jacob’s grandsons. Imagine how emotionally charged this moment must have been. Jacob had thought his favored son Joseph was dead, and now, not only is Joseph alive, Jacob can see and bless Joseph’s children, his grandchildren. Jacob says to Joseph: “I had not thought (pallati) to see your face. And, lo, God has let me see your children as well.” (Genesis 48:11)
The great Medieval commentator RASHI explains that palalti means, “To fill my heart, to think the thoughts.”
When palalti is inserted in to the reflective verb form, as in l'hitpalel, the act of prayer is understood as an exercise of personal vision and imagination. To dream the dreams. To anticipate the unimaginable and yet to imagine it none the less. To fill my heart, to think the thoughts.
The actor Martin Sheen once said that he sees prayer as the one time in his life when he is commanded to use his own imagination. Sheen relates the passage in the New Testament when Jesus’ followers ask him, “Teach us how to pray.” What a curious question. After all, they were devout, practicing Jews, with a very structured form of prayer, worship, and sacrifice. Sheen points out that they were asking, wanting, to go deeper. To get more personal. He ends with a story about 9-11. Where was God on 9-11, he is asked? And he challenges the almost cliche answer, “Well, there’s good and there’s evil in the world, and we have to be aware of that,” That just didn’t cut it or him. Didn’t suffice. “Well,” continues Sheen, “my response to that would have been that God was in the towers. God was present to each individual going through that horrible… facing their own death, individually and with a community. That God is present in our deepest hungers, in our worst times as well as our best.”
We are all visionaries, imagining peace redemption, health, in the world, teaches Rabbi Harold Schulweis, Z”L. And, when we l’hitpalel, we are doing a self-induced experience of aspiring towards this. Reversing those transitive, theological questions, from, Does God hear our prayers? Does God answer our prayers? Does God act in history? Does God care?… to the reflective, the internalized, Do I hear? Do I respond? Do I intervene? Do I care? Our questions about God are ultimately about our own selves.
Rabbi Rami Shapiro retells a wonderful Hassidic story about seeking your own spiritual path to a da’at d’veikut, the revelation of your inherent oneness, union, that already exists with God.
Reb Yissachar Dov of Radoshitz traveled to see his rebbe, Reb Yaakov Yitzchak, the Chozeh of Lublin. Arriving at his rebbe’s study, he said, “Show me one general way that all of us might serve God.” “One way?” the Seer said. “What makes you think there is one way? Are people all the same that a single practice would suit them all?” “Then how am I to teach people to find God?” Rebbe Yissachar Dov asked. “It is impossible to tell people how they should serve. For one, the way is the way of study; for another, the way is the way of prayer; for another, the way is the way of fasting or feasting; for another, the way is the way of service to one’s neighbor.” “Then what shall I tell those who ask me for guidance in this area?” “Tell them this,” the Chozeh said. “Carefully observe the way of your own heart, see what stirs your passion for God and godliness, and then do that with all your heart and all your strength.”
Rabbi Rami gleans from this story that, when it comes to spirituality, do not fall for “one size fits all.” Find your size, and wear it proudly. And so, while we pray together, in a collective exercise of visionary thinking, we l’hitpalel, encounter God, hear God’s presence, the Shechinah, in our own, unique ways. That there is no single normative Jewish approach to how to think and feel as Jews. To experience God. It is transitive. It is reflective. It is L’hitpalel… To fill my heart, to think the thoughts.