A friend who is a
Catholic priest once told me that mass was designed to last one hour and not a
minute longer. I marveled that he could plan with such precision. Wondering if
it was his idiosyncrasy, I googled the length of a Catholic mass and, sure
enough, scores of people attest that the mass they attend is one hour long,
varying only slightly according to who delivers the sermon and whether it’s a high mass for a
special occasion; the lengthiest mass I found was 75 minutes. On shabbat
morning in a traditional synagogue service, 75 minutes barely gets you to the
Torah service. People frequently complain that Shabbat morning services are too
long. Apparently, this is a long-standing Jewish tradition — not the long service, the kvetching about the
length of the service — because Talmud
records the complaints in the academies of Babylonia:
Our
Rabbis taught: Once a certain student led the prayers in the presence of R.
Eliezer and his prayers were very lengthy. The other students said to [R.
Eliezer]: Master, how longwinded this fellow is! [R. Eliezer] replied to them:
Is he drawing it out any more than Moses, of whom it is written, [I fell
down before the Lord] for forty days and forty nights [because the Lord had
said He would destroy you] (Deuteronomy 9:25, Moses pleads with
God on behalf of the people following the sin of the Golden Calf). On another
occasion, a certain student led the prayers in the presence of R. Eliezer and
cut them very short. The other students said to [R. Eliezer]: How hasty this
fellow is! [R. Eliezer] said to them: Is he any hastier than Moses, who prayed
[on behalf of his sister, Miriam, when she was stricken with leprosy] אֵל, נָא רְפָא נָא לָהּ Please,
God, please heal her (Numbers 12:13)? (BT Berakhot 34a)
The only surprising
part of this account is that the students complain when the prayers are too
brief.
The short prayer
uttered by Moses on behalf of Miriam is found in this week’s parashah,
Beha’alotkha, where we
are told that Miriam and Aaron spoke against Moses because of the Cushite woman
he had married. While some commentators interpret this verse through the
spectacles of jealousy, presuming that Moses’ siblings
are envious of his authority and closeness with God, Rashi, on the basis of Sifrei,
says that Miriam criticizes Moses for neglecting Tzipporah in order to be
available to God 24/7. Miriam’s “crime,” by
this thinking, is articulating her criticism publicly. This does not explain
why she alone is stricken with white scales while for Aaron there are no
consequences; after all, Torah says that they both spoke against Moses (Numbers
12:1). In any case, Moses responds immediately to Miriam’s condition with a
five-word prayer: אֵל, נָא רְפָא נָא לָהּ Please, God, please heal her (Numbers 12:13).
The word “please” is there twice, comprising 40% of the prayer.
Clearly, it is a deeply emotional plea.
Rabbi Abraham Isaac
Kook (1865-1935), asking why Miriam only merits a prayer of merely five words,
explains that there are two types of prayer.
Prayer
serves two functions. The first function is to refine character traits and
deepen awareness—either for the person praying, or for the one being
prayed for. This type of prayer requires tenacity and perseverance, since
correction of flawed traits requires extended effort, and usually occurs
gradually over time.
For
this reason, Moses needed to pray extensively when he prayed for the Jewish
people after the calamitous sin of the golden calf. Why forty days? This period
is the time it takes for an embryo to develop limbs and become recognizable as
a human fetus. The forty days of Moses' prayer indicated a rebirth of the
Jewish people, with a new heart and spirit.
There
is, however, a second function of prayer. Sometimes the inner emotions and
character traits have already been refined and purified. Prayer only comes to
put in words that which already exists in the inner soul. In such cases, an
extended prayer is unnecessary; even a brief prayer may express many holy
feelings. In the case of Miriam, she had already conceded her mistake. Her
healing, both physical and spiritual, required only a short, simple prayer. (Gold
from the Land of Israel, p. 163).
This is a surprising
comment. We are accustomed to thinking that prayer is for God’s sake: God requires
it of us because God desires it. And, indeed, in the ancient world, prayer was
understood that way. But Rav Kook was a mystic, and his perspective is often
soulfully inward. He is telling us that it is we who need prayer. Prayer
can be a time of meditative self-reflection during which we explore our own
souls, examine our own behavior, and chart a course for self-improvement. The
prayers, then, are tools at our disposal to remind us of appropriate goals.
Bachya ibn Pakuda (Spain, 11th century) wrote, “Words are the shells; meditation the kernel.
Words are the body of the prayer and meditation its spirit” (Chovot HaLevavot). The community with
whom we pray draws us out of possible self-absorption, helping to insure that
our goals for self-improvement are appropriate rather than selfish. Rav Kook
tells us that prayer can also be a visceral expression of our inner emotional
state, communication straight and unmitigated from the heart. I like Rav Kook’s take on prayer; it
is honest and constructive.
Another perspective
is to see Jewish prayer as falling into five categories that can succinctly be
termed: Wow!, Please, Thanks, Oops and Alas! “Wow!” is
a prayer of wonder and astonishment evoked by anything from a rainbow to the
birth of a baby. “Please” is a prayer for what we unselfishly need, from
courage to patience. “Thanks” is an expression of gratitude, marking our
ability to appreciate the blessings in our lives. “Oops” is an admission of wrongdoing, signifying a
willingness to take responsibility, and the commitment to rectify the damage we
have caused where possible. “Alas!” is an expression of lamentation, deep sadness,
and sorrow, which has reverberated through our tradition historically, but
which finds expression in our individual lives, as well. In a sense, each of
these five types of prayers fits Rav Kook’s framework; perhaps each type has elements of
both our expression of our innermost experience, and our search for our better
selves. Sometimes that takes a long time; sometimes it takes but a moment.
This can happen in
synagogue—and when it does we
have an opportunity to connect with, and support, the community. It can also
happen in venues beyond the walls of the synagogue. Rebbe Nachman of Bratzlav’s famous prayer
embodies Rav Kook’s
view, and is saturated with “Wow!” and “Please”:
Master
of the Universe, grant me the ability to be alone. May it be my custom to go outdoors each day among
the trees and grass, among all growing things.
And there may I be alone in prayer, to talk with my Creator, to express
everything in my heart. And may all the
foliage of the field awake at my coming, to send the power of their life into
the words of my prayer, so that my prayer and speech are made whole through the
spirit of all growing things.
R. Yitzhak tells us
that “God longs for the
prayers of the righteous” (BT Yebamot 64a). In
its Talmudic context, R. Yitzhak is shockingly suggesting that God inflicts
hardship on the patriarchs to induce them to pray to God. Another way to
understand this statement is that God only wants to hear from righteous
individuals—only their
prayer pleases God. I don’t
care for either interpretation. Rather when I hear, “God longs for the
prayers of the righteous,” I understand it this
way: God longs for us to use prayer to make ourselves more righteous. Rabbi
Ferdinand Isserman, inspired by Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, wrote: “Who rise from prayer
better persons, their prayer is answered.”
© Rabbi
Amy Scheinerman
Nice post Rabbi!
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