Prayer simply doesn’t work in the third person

By Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

CHULA VISTA, California — Martin Buber told the following story: Once the  Baal Shem Tov stopped on the threshold of a  House of   Prayer and refused to go in. “I cannot go in,” he said. “It is   crowded with teachings and prayers from wall to wall and from floor to   ceiling. How could there be room for me?” And when he saw those around him were staring at him and did not know what he meant, he added: “The words from the lips of those whose teaching and praying do not come from hearts lifted to heaven cannot  rise; they fill the heart from wall to wall and from floor to   ceiling.”[1]

Prayer continues to be contemporary spiritual challenge.

Since antiquity people have grappled with its meaning and significance. As we pray, we come face-to-face with our deepest beliefs, feelings and convictions. Perhaps this is where the God of traditional theology can learn a lot from the mystics. The mystics experience prayer, while the theologians only talk about prayer.

There are other factors that diminish our soul’s capacity to expand its spiritual vision of Ultimate Reality.

The situation has hardly changed over the centuries—despite our sophistication and modernity. The prophet Isaiah also commented about the perfunctory manner people prayed in his generation:

These people make a big show of saying the right thing,
but their hearts aren’t in it.
Because they act like they’re worshiping me
but they don’t mean it,
I’m going to step in and shock them awake,
astonish them, stand them on their ears.
The wise ones who had it all figured out
will be exposed as fools.
The smart people who thought they knew everything
will turn out to know nothing.”

Isaiah 29:13

The same may be said about today’s times as well. Spiritual leadership does not know or understand how to articulate prayer to its followers. As young people flock elsewhere for spiritual nourishment, it is obvious something is missing.

Let’s be honest: As rabbis, many of us are intimidated by prayer. We are part of the problem.

The Synagogue lights are on, but nobody is home.

Isaiah’s words still resonate in the present; the worship of God has become “a human commandment, learned by rote.”  It is one thing to talk about God at least in a theological or philosophical context, but once we begin to pray, our God-talk is no longer intellectual; faith becomes experiential.

What we experience during prayer speaks volumes about our beliefs and relationship with God. If we believe that God is attentive to us, then prayer can have meaning. Conversely, if we experience God only in the third person, then we have transformed the Creator into an indifferent bystander, who ignores the pleas of the human heart.

Without “You,” we might just as well be dictating a memo, “To whom it may concern . . .” But that’s not prayer!  Addressing God directly as “You!” is very different indeed, for by speaking out to God as “You,” our personal pronouns introduce and imply relationship.

When the ancient psalmists gazed into the heavens, they did not behold an endless abyss of cosmic nothingness; rather, they beheld a God with whom they could audaciously and personally address as “You.” All these sundry personal pronouns and anthropomorphic metaphors serve to convey something profound about the mystery of God’s Presence and closeness to the world, without which God could not be known. It is this closeness that inspires prayer.

How does one really practically experience prayer?

There are many ways. The Shabbat liturgy offers a pathway provided we walk through it mindfully and not mindlessly.

So much of Jewish prayer—especially on Shabbat—centers on song. At my services  in Temple Beth Sholom, I stress this point every week. When God created the world, the only thing lacking in the celestial universe was the song of man. Not only do we sing with musical instruments on the Shabbat, we dance and dance. Prayer is more than an exercise done with the lips, you’ve got to move your shoulders and hips as well—and that’s exactly what my congregants do every Shabbat. People don’t look at their watches; they forget about time and just savor the music.

The four letter name of God, YHWH, in Hebrew resembles the human body when written vertically. Bodily movement with ecstatic prayer can really invigorate how you feel when you go to synagogue. Don’t settle for anything less.

In our Siddurim, we discover that angels never speak discursively. They speak through song. If you pay attention to your Shabbat prayer book, notice how many times the word, “song,” or “sing” appears. The world is full of song, but are we willing to take the time to listen? On Shabbat, that is exactly the activity we must do—stop and listen! Smell the roses, and listen to nature’s song!’

One of the most beautiful works of Late Antiquity is the Perek Shira — The Chapter of Song, which contains numerous animals and flora that participate in Creation’s songs.  In the beginning of this 1st century work, the writer tells a story how an unclean frog once taught King David a lesson in humility.

  • David exclaimed to God, “Master of   the universe, is there   any other creature in Your world   that utters more songs and paeans of praise than I? In that   instant a frog appears and meets him. The frog then   says to David, “Don’t act so boastfully. I utter more songs and   paeans of praise than   you.”

Mystics of all faiths teach that, if the soul could sense what the birds feel when singing in the forest at dawn, man would know that their prayer is even more exalted than his own, for it is more natural.

If you choose not to attend Shul on Shabbat, then set some time for a pleasant Shabbat walk by yourself or with your beloved—especially early in the morning.  In the stillness of the forest or a garden, one can discover the Presence of God that calls out from each blade of grass!

Philo of Alexandria believed that urban life is not conducive for spirituality—God never speaks in the city, but in the wilderness and desert—places that are known for their simplicity and innocence.

The time has come to rediscover that innocence. Shabbat is as good of a time to begin as any.

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Notes:

[1] Martin Buber—Early Masters

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Rabbi Samuel is spiritual leader of Temple Beth Sholom in Chula Vista, California.  He may be contacted at michael.samuel@sdjewishworld.com