The Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit Midrash

 HARAV AHARON LICHTENSTEIN

 Summarized by Aviad Hacohen

Prayer in the Teachings of Rav Soloveitchik ZT"L

Part 2

3. At the same time, the Rav would frequently speak of an additional dimension of tefilla - one on which he focused extensively in his early years. As surprising as this may sound, the Rav used to address much attention to the problematic nature of tefilla: is it actually possible and feasible, permissible and appropriate, to pray?

This subject was familiar to Chazal, and to the Rishonim (medieval sages) who followed them, especially as regards the category of "praise." The gemara (Berakhot 33a) describes a certain 'shaliach tzibbur' (prayer leader) who, during his repetition of the Shemoneh Esrei, reached the words "ha-gadol ha-gibor ve-hanora" ("the God who is great, mighty and awesome") and then continued with a long list of additional praises: "ha-adir ve-haizuz ve-hayir'ui, he-chazak ve-ha'amitz, ha-vadai ve-hanikhbad." When he finished his Shemoneh Esrei, Rabbi Chanina scorned him:

 Do you think that you have now exhausted the praises of your Master? As for us, were it not for the fact that Moshe Rabbeinu uttered these three praises ("ha-gadol ha-gibor ve-hanora") in the Torah (Devarim 10:17), and that the Men of the Great Assembly later included them formally in the tefilla, we could not [i.e., would not have the right to] mention even those three. Why, then, did you add on so much?

The Rav certainly identified with this approach of hesitation and restraint with regard to praise. In one of his "Yahrzeit lectures" he spoke about the recitation of the "Shir shel yom" ("Psalm of the day" - the chapter of Tehillim chosen specifically for each day of the week) as listed at the end of Tractate Sukka (55a). The Rav asked, "Why is this psalm recited specifically on this day, and that psalm on that day? What significance is there to this selection of psalms? Why could a person not recite two chapters?"

Based on these questions, the Rav developed his argument as to the problematic nature of the recital of "shevach" (praise). Perhaps the appropriate response should be silence, due to both our wonderment at God's greatness, as well as shame at our unworthiness?

In his essay "Ish HaHalakha" (Halakhic Man), Rav Soloveitchik examined the subject of praise in the course of his discussion of the Rambam's theory of Divine attributes set forth in his "Moreh Nevukhim" (Guide for the Perplexed). The Rambam maintains that it is preferable to altogether avoid descriptions of God's attributes; however, if one is already doing so, then he should word it in the negative rather than affirming a certain trait or ascribing a certain graphic description to God.

But according to the Rav, a person may indeed approach God and present his requests. Human beings who dwell in this physical world have all kinds of deficiencies, wants and aspirations, and as a result they sometimes choose to knock on the gates of Heaven, to break through the barricades, and to present themselves before God asking that He answer their requests.

Would we dare act in this way before a king of flesh and blood? Would we shout, demand, request and plead? Where do we find such audacity? How do we allow ourselves such "chutzpa" in our relationship with God?

This led the Rav to speak at length of the necessity for the existence of "permission" (a "mattir") for tefilla, something that would serve as a license of sorts, and in this regard he pointed towards a number of halakhot. For instance, it is stipulated that tefillat nedava, a "voluntary prayer" (i.e., not one of the mandatory, regular communal prayers), must include something innovative. It is not sufficient to simply repeat the tefilla which one has already recited, for this novelty serves as his "permission" to add a non-mandatory prayer.

The Rav brought another example from the Ra'avad, who held that tashlumin, a compensatory prayer, may be recited only in juxtaposition to mandatory tefilla recited at its set time. Someone who forgets to pray Mincha may make it up by reciting the Amida twice at Ma'ariv. The opening of the gates of heaven for the obligatory prayer - which a person is "permitted" to pray because he is commanded to - allows him to slip in, as it were, at the same time the tefilla which he missed. Otherwise, he would have no opportunity of presenting that missed tefilla before his Creator.

In this connection, the Rav used to quote the gemara in Berakhot (31a) which poses the question, "Can a person pray the whole day long?" and answers, "No, for as we learn from the Book of Daniel (6:11): 'Their times are three.'" The very question is not whether a person is required to pray all day long, but rather whether he is even permitted to do so.

According to the Rav, the problem here lies not in our concern for the possibility of "berakha le-vatala" (reciting blessings - which contain God's name - unnecessarily), but rather in the very audacity of the idea of standing before God the entire day. The issue is not one of 'bitul Torah' (wasting time that should be spent studying Torah) but rather a person's arrogation of the right to stand before God and petition Him for one's needs. A similar approach can be found in the words of Rabbi Meir in Berakhot 61a:

A person's words before God should always be few, as it is written (Kohelet 5:1): 'Do not flurry your mouth and hasten your heart to issue words before God, for God is in heaven and you are on earth, and therefore let your words be few in number.'

Admittedly, there are sources in Chazal which point to a different approach. On the verse, "Even if you offer many prayers, I shall not hear" (Yeshayahu 1:15), the Yerushalmi (Ta'anit 4:1) comments, "From here we learn that anyone who offers many prayers is answered." (I.e., in the previous quotation God is indicating a situation which is not the usual state of affairs - "Even..."; generally this would ensure God's attention.) But the Rav was inclined to emphasize the theme of refraining from excessive prayer, not only in the "quantitative" sense of "the whole day long" but also in the qualitative sense - the very directing of requests to God (bearing in mind the approach mentioned above, which holds that the principal component of tefilla is the "bakasha" aspect).

In this connection the Rav spoke of two types of "permission." One is to be found in tefilla itself: the praise which comprises the first three berakhot "allows" the subsequent requests. Furthermore, the juxtaposition of the last berakha before the Shemoneh Esrei (which has redemption as its theme) and the tefilla itself also provides "permission" of a sort (this juxtaposition is known as "semikhat ge'ula le-tefilla"). The same applies to the recitation of "pesukei de-zimra" in the earlier part of the prayer service. The very joining of the different levels of the tefilla constitutes its "permission."

But for the Rav this was not sufficient. He sought historical and halakhic anchoring for a person's standing before God. In his view, if one were to evaluate purely intellectually the permissibility of prayer and petition, one would be forced to reach a negative conclusion. Nevertheless, there are precedents. "The [three] Patriarchs instituted prayer" (Berakhot 26b). The forefathers prayed; so did Moshe Rabbeinu and King David. It would seem, therefore, that even if it seems somewhat paradoxical and even if it contradicts the conclusion we would reach were we to focus on the fundamental, theological, ideological-philosophical aspects alone - it is indeed acceptable, and even desirable.

This is not all. We are in fact commanded to pray. We find in Ta'anit (2a): "'To love the Lord your God and to serve Him with all your heart' (Devarim 11:13) - what is Divine service that is performed by the heart? This is tefilla."

This indicates both the obligation to pray and the permto do so. Were it not for the obligation, there would be no permission.

In 1953, the first year in which I studied privately with the Rav in Boston, he taught Berakhot. Ever since that time I have been captivated by those issues and have even come to feel something of the sensation experienced by a person who simply stands in wonder: "What are we; what are our lives? What are we in relation to God?" The Rav's teachings made a deep and lasting impression on me. Later on, I had certain reservations regarding this line of thought, and even more so regarding such an existential state. Indeed, the feeling of "What shall a person complain of so long as he is alive, in light of all his sins?" (Eikha 3:39) arises in one's heart. As the midrash explains, "It is sufficient that he is alive; he should ask for nothing else beyond this." Moshe Rabbeinu's words, "And I entreated God at that time..." (Devarim 3:23) indicate, according to Chazal, that all is given as a free gift. God owes us nothing. At the same time, though, can anyone imagine that God would plant us on earth - weak and dependent as we are - with only Himself for us to rely upon, and then block our channel to reach Him?

Indeed, can there be any meaningful human existence, either spiritually or materially, without access to our Father in Heaven? I believe that I was not alone in recoiling from this line of thought (regarding the audacity of prayer and the need for permission); in my opinion, the Rav himself somewhat downplayed it later in his life.

The Rav dealt further with the "problematics of prayer" both in his lectures and in his writings, but the question was couched differently and his answers conveyed a different tone. I shall quote just a short excerpt, from which the question clearly emerges: How is prayer possible at all?

To the extent that the individual approaches God, his finite mortal existence is negated. The finite is swallowed in the Infinite and expires in its depths. Man sometimes flees from God or hides from Him - "And Moshe hid his face for he was afraid to look at God" (Shemot 3:6) - lest he be swallowed. Man's independence and self-confidence are nullified before God's splendor and glory. If so, then the question arises: How can prayer exist at all? Prayer is standing before God, before the Divine Presence. How can a person be in God's presence without losing his individual existence? (Ra'ayanot al haTefilla, p. 244)

Here the question is directed not towards the issue of permission to pray - its legitimacy vs. the audacity which it involves - so much as towards man's very ability to pray: Is it existentially possible for a person to stand in God's presence?

Later on in the same work, the Rav does mention the concept of "permission" to pray, but here the principle and the answer which he suggests are different from those which we discussed previously. He maintains (p. 245) that "Halakhic thought toiled mightily to provide an answer to this question and to find something which would permit a creature of flesh and blood to approach its Maker." The Rav lists three fundamental concepts in Judaism upon which this permission rests. The latter two are the precedents set by the Patriarchs and by the Temple service, to which we shall return later. But the first concept, about which the Rav did not speak in the '50's, is as follows:

Prayer is a vital need for the religious individual. He cannot stop the thoughts and emotions, deliberations and troubles which surge through the depths of his soul, his hopes and aspirations, his despair and bitterness - in short: the great wealth that is concealed in his religious consciousness. It is impossible to halt the liturgical outpouring [of these feelings]. Prayer is essential. Fresh, vibrant religious feeling cannot exist without it. In other words, prayer is justified by virtue of the fact that it is impossible to exist without it. (ibid.)

 This is not an answer to the question but rather the negation of the question's very legitimacy.

 (Translated by Kaeren Fish and Ronnie Ziegler.Adapted from a lecture originally delivered at a Memorial Assembly for Rav Soloveitchik, Iyar 5756 [May 1996]. This adaptation was not reviewed by Rav Lichtenstein.)

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