Timeless Torah

Prayer is one of the most difficult of Jewish rituals to master. I don’t mean the technical details of when to stand, when to bow, what blessings are said or omitted on a particular day. Those are specific laws that one can easily learn and become proficient in.

However, the real meaning of prayer, i.e., the realization that one cannot accomplish everything on his own but one needs a little help from Above, that is an art not easily acquired This requires more than mere knowledge, it has to be coupled with the feeling that one has been granted a private audience with the Almighty.

We all know how difficult that can be. Thus many people may be sitting in the synagogue, wrapped in their Tallis, swaying in rhythm, and their lips moving as they recite the correct prayers, their thoughts, however, are on their business affairs.

With the Patriarch Abraham, it was just the reverse. While sitting at the door of his tent; gazing at the scenery; recovering from a painful surgery; if his thoughts had been diverted by any of these distractions, it would have been understandable. Instead, Abraham sat there waiting for a guest because his thoughts were only on serving G-d.

At our day school, the Hebrew Academy, our middle school students run their own morning minyan. One of the youngsters acts as the chazzan, another is the gabbai, while a third is the Baal Koreh (the one who reads from the Torah scroll). Once in a while, one of the students even acts as if they are standing in the presence of the Holy One.

Who knows? Maybe we are succeeding. But then again, children have an innate sense of a personal G-d. Only this morning, one second grader shared with me his serious theological doubts. The previous night his birds were sick. He recited a chapter from Tehillim (Psalms) not once, but three times. Irrespective of his heartfelt pleas, the birds died.

This morning, he refused to daven, since, as he put it, “G-d obviously does not listen.” I endeavored to explain the difference between G-d listening to one’s requests vs. granting all of our desires. I must admit, he was not fully convinced.

But here we are all adults. And if G-d only fulfills that which He thinks is best, what reward is there in prayer? The true prize, however, is not the response or lack thereof. It is the opportunity to enter the King’s throne room and engage our Creator in dialogue. Is that privilege not enough? Must we be compensated as well?