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Vayetze | Yaacov and Prayer

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Yaacov Leaves Home

 

"Yaacov left from Be'er Sheva and journeyed towards Charan.  He encountered the place and prepared to sleep there because the sun had set.  He took some of the stones of the place and put them under his head, and there he lied down.  He began to dream...."  So begins this week's Parasha.  Opening with a description of Yaacov's flight eastwards to Charan in escape of his brother's wrath, it concludes with a parallel description of his flight westwards to Canaan in evasion of his father-in-law's anger!  In the intervening twenty-odd years, a protracted series of difficult and troubling events unfold in the life of this most tormented of the Patriarchs.

 

Plumbing the depths of his thoughts on that fateful night that sees him disappear into the darkness and the unknown, a single word captures his state of mind: fear.  Fear of pursuit by a brother half-mad with rage, apprehension of never again seeing a tearful mother who sacrificed her own future for his, dismay at forever leaving behind an aged father blind and infirm, and dread of leaving the Promised Land.  Not to mention fear of the terrors yet ahead: alone and lonely on a journey to a distant land, an alien culture, and an uncertain future.

 

The lone figure plods onwards, all the while considering the tragic and sudden series of events that have catapulted him so far from home, and the sun begins to set.  Having secured through sacrifice the birthright and the blessing, the twin promise of progeny and land, Yaacov now finds himself bereft of family and far from the covenanted earth of Canaan.  The Divine oath vouchsafed to his forebears remains painfully distant from fulfillment. 

 

Pondering these paradoxes, Yaacov sees the sky light up with the faltering hues of sunset.  His pace quickens and his heart skips a beat, but as the blood-red orb of fire sinks below the horizon, there are no familiar landmarks to comfort him or to set his mind at ease.  Darkness falls and he is alone in the gathering gloom and the stoic silence.  Setting down his meager belongings, he gathers some stones and arranges them about his head, anticipating a fitful sleep punctuated by spectral images and pangs of terror.  We can almost hear Yaacov unburdening his soul in the cathartic moment before slumber seizes him.  Crying out to God, his plaintive prayer ascends heavenwards, and his heavy heart is assuaged.

 

Unexpectedly, God appears to the sleeping, solitary individual and instead comforts him with a message of encouragement and hope: "Yaacov dreamt and saw a ladder standing on the earth, but with its top touching the heavens, and the angels of God were ascending and descending upon it.  Behold, God stood over him and said:  'I am Hashem, the God of your ancestor Avraham and the God of Yitzchak.  The land upon which you are sleeping shall belong to you and your descendents.  Your offspring shall be as numerous as the dust of the earth, breaking out to the west, east north and south, and all of the nations of the world shall be blessed through them.'"

 

The continuation of God's pledge helps us to decipher Yaacov's palpable but unspoken fears:  "Behold, I will be with you and I will guard you wherever you go; I will return you to this land.  For I will not forsake you until all that I have spoken is fulfilled."  In other words, God reassures Yaacov concerning those very concerns that must have been uppermost in his mind:  "I am so alone.  Where will my travels take me and who will protect me on my journey?  When will my brother's wrath subside?  Will I ever merit to return to my own land and family?"

 

 

The Institution of the Night-time Prayer

 

Significantly, according to some opinions expressed in the traditional sources, Yaacov's prayer at that encounter constitutes the precedent for the nighttime service.  The remainder of this week's discussion will be devoted to investigating the ramifications of this notion:   "It has been stated: Rabbi Yossi ben Rabbi Chanina said: the daily prayers were instituted by the Patriarchs ('Avot').  Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi said: the daily prayers were instituted by the Sages in correspondence to the daily sacrifices ('Temidim')" (Berakhot 26b). 

 

The Talmud here records a dispute concerning the origins of the three daily prayers that form the nucleus of the devotional life of the Jew.  According to R. Yossi b. R. Chanina, the beginnings of the practice of praying three times daily refer back to Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaacov:  "Avraham instituted the morning service (Shacharit) as it says: 'And Avraham got up early in the morning and returned to the place where he had stood before God's presence' (Bereishit 19:27)...Yitzchak instituted the afternoon service (Mincha) as it says: 'Yitzchak went out to meditate in the field as evening fell.  He looked up and saw that camels were approaching' (Bereishit 24:63)...Yaacov instituted the nighttime prayer (Ma'ariv) as it says: 'and he encountered the place and slept there because the sun had set' (Bereishit 28:11).

 

In contrast, R. Yehoshua b. Levi maintains that the origins of thrice daily worship are to be found in the precedent of the daily sacrificial service (Korban Tamid) in the Temple:  "Thus shall you offer on the altar daily: two year-old lambs in perpetuity.  One shall be offered in the morning and the second shall be offered in the afternoon" (Shemot 29:38-39).  The night time prayer (Ma'ariv), according to this model, corresponds to the remaining limbs and fat of the afternoon sacrifice which continued to burn on the altar all night long until consumed.

 

A parallel source in Bereishit Rabba 68:9 records these two views and includes a third as well (quoted elsewhere with slight variations): "Rabbi Shemuel ben Nachman said: the three services correspond to the three changes in the day.  At nighttime one must say: 'May it be Thy will God my Lord to bring me forth from darkness to light.'  In the morning one must say:  'I give thanks to Thee God my Lord for having brought me forth from darkness to light.'  In the afternoon one must say:  'I give thanks to Thee God my Lord, for just as I merited to see the sun in the east, so too You merited me to see the sun in the west.'"

 

 

Three Aspects of Prayer – (#1) The Personal

 

At first glance, these disparate opinions seem to reflect nothing more then homiletic gymnastics.  One view connects the derivation of three daily prayers to the Avot, another to the Temidim, and yet another view suggests that the changes of the day call forth the need to pray.  Upon closer examination, however, we will find that these differing views in fact reflect fundamentally different notions of prayer.

 

It will be recalled that according to R. Yossi b. Chanina, it is the prayer of Yaacov implied in this week's Parasha that constitutes the source of the nighttime prayer.  We have already seen that the context of that prayer was a foreboding night that found the Patriarch alone, despondent, and fearful.  The impetus for the prayer was thus a singular combination of conditions experienced by Yaacov, within the particular parameters of his personal circumstances.  No one else shared his sentiments and emotions at that moment, and the resultant "prayer" was a spontaneous and unique outpouring of his soul.  Never before in the history of the world or, for that matter, in the lifetime of Yaacov himself, had just such a prayer been uttered, for the factors that inspired it were without precedent.

 

An investigation of the other two Patriarchal prayers yields a similar pattern.  "Avraham instituted the morning service (Shacharit) as it says: 'And Avraham got up early in the morning and returned to the place where he had stood before God's presence' (Bereishit 19:27).  The context of this quote is none other than the morning after the destruction of Sodom and its satellite towns.  "The sun rose on the earth and Lot arrived in Zoar.  God rained down fire and brimstone on the cities of Sodom and Amora...He overturned these cities and the whole plain, the inhabitants and the vegetation.  Lot's wife looked back and became petrified with salt.  Avraham got up early in the morning and returned to the place where he had stood before God's presence.  He looked out over Sodom and Amora and over the whole plain, and behold the thick haze of the inferno resembled a smoking furnace" (Bereishit 19:23-28).

 

It will be recalled that earlier, Avraham had passionately pleaded for the preservation of the cities:  "The men turned and headed towards Sodom, and Avraham remained standing before God.  Approaching God, he said: 'will You truly sweep away the righteous with the wicked?!  Perhaps there are fifty righteous people within the city.  Will You sweep them away rather than forgive them all on account of the fifty righteous ones who are in its midst?  It would be a profanity for You to destroy the righteous with the wicked...Shall the Judge of all the world not act with justice?"  (Bereishit 18:22-25).  The parley between the Patriarch and God actually continued until Avraham had stated his final position of ten righteous people being sufficient to preserve the city.  To this, God readily agreed.

 

After a no-doubt erratic night of sleep, Avraham arises early the next morning to discover that the cities have been destroyed, that his fervent hopes of yesterday have been dashed to pieces.  What a feeling of sadness must have come over him, tinged with intense disappointment and perhaps even colored with anger.  This moment of intense and singular pathos is the catalyst for Avraham's 'morning prayer.'  Again, this is a prayer inspired by unique and  special circumstances that can only make it  absolutely personal, individualistic, and unpremeditated.  It is a prayer that has no need for a liturgy, because to assign it a set formula would destroy its sincere poignancy.

 

Yitzchak instituted the afternoon service (Mincha) as it says: 'Yitzchak went out to meditate in the field as evening fell.  He looked up and saw that camels were approaching' (Bereishit 24:63).  Here again, context is the critical ingredient that allows us to correctly interpret the incident for our purposes: "Rivka and her handmaids arose, rode on the camels, and followed the man (Eliezer).  The servant took Rivka and they went.  Yitzchak returned from his visit to the well of Lechai Roei, for he was dwelling in the land of the Negev.  Yitzchak went out to meditate in the field as evening fell.  He looked up and saw that camels were approaching" (Bereishit 24:61-63).

 

What precipitates Yitzchak's 'afternoon prayer'?  About three years have passed since the death of Sarah his mother but Yitzchak still feels the pain of her passing.  At the same time, he is anxiously awaiting the return of the servant who may or may not be accompanied by Yitzchak's future wife.  No doubt he is experiencing mixed emotions as he goes out to the field to commune with God, but the most intense sentiments he experiences are longing, cautious expectation, and guarded hope.  These intimate, personal, and distinctive feelings serve as the backdrop for his prayer.

 

We may summarize thus far by pointing out that the so-called "Patriarchal Prayer" is actually a paradigm for an intensely individualistic, sincere, and spontaneous outpouring of the spirit which transcends any set ritual, and defies to be shackled by a protocol that tends to degenerate into rote.  This type of prayer addresses the immediate needs or concerns of the individual and relates to no larger communal or national context.  In this form of prayer, the single, particular, and completely unique human being stands alone before God, and cries out from the depths of his/her being and from the singularity of the event.  This form of prayer cannot be anticipated ahead of time but is a direct and forthright response to a never-to-be repeated moment in time. 

 

 

(#2) The Communal/National

 

There is of course another dimension of prayer, signified by the second opinion, that of Rabbi Yehoshua b. Levi: "the daily prayers were instituted by the Sages in correspondence to the daily sacrifices ('Temidim')."  Here again, we will assume that not only the source of prayer is being suggested, but more importantly, its archetype.  The daily sacrifice was the most important of the services conducted in the Temple.  The two unblemished lambs offered in the morning and afternoon respectively, were brought daily on behalf of the entire Jewish people.  They were purchased with public treasury funds that were collected yearly from every eligible adult, and their sacrifice was overseen by a representative body drawn from all regions of the country.  In glaring contrast to the "Avot Prayer," therefore, the "Temidim Prayer" is completely communal and national.  There is no individualistic component in it whatsoever.  The unblemished year-old lambs from which it is brought are indistinguishable in their monotony.  Any shred of the individual Jew and his/her discrete personage is completely subsumed by the much more encompassing concept of polity.

 

At the same time, the Daily Sacrifice was quite literally quotidian, and incessant to a remarkable degree.  It was the epitome of habit, and the exemplar of predictability.  Day in day out, year in year out, it was perpetually offered according to an unchanging routine that spanned the entire period during which the Temple stood.  There was certainly nothing spontaneous or unexpected about its service at all.

 

Transposed to our context of prayer, the "Tamid" (constant, eternal, perpetual) paragon addresses a scope of living which is habitual and routine.  Most of our days are in fact consumed with rather predictable and pedestrian needs and pursuits, and rarely carry the imprimatur of distinctive and unusual (and almost never singular) occurrences.  In terms of basic needs and fundamental constant concerns, most of us are probably rather alike.  There ought to be, therefore, an aspect of prayer that speaks of these ongoing communal or national needs, stressing the ordinary and the commonplace, rather than the anomalous and the exceptional.  Its corresponding linguistic structure, of course, would tend to be formalized and highly liturgical, employing conventional terms and making use of the plural form.  This aspect of prayer is the "Tamid."

 

 

(#3) The Universal

 

"Rabbi Shemuel ben Nachman said: the three services correspond to the three changes in the day.  At nighttime one must say: 'May it be Thy will God my Lord to bring me forth from darkness to light.'  In the morning one must say:  'I give thanks to Thee God my Lord for having brought me forth from darkness to light.'  In the afternoon one must say:  'I give thanks to Thee God my Lord, for just as I merited to see the sun in the east, so too You merited me to see the sun in the west.'"

 

In Rabbi Shemuel's formulation, prayer is not the preserve of the individual nor does it necessarily reflect the concerns of the nation.  It is dictated, in fact, not by human needs at all but by the diurnal movement of the sun across the expanse of the heavens.  The call to prayer is not the precious, singular, personal event nor the routine, commonplace, communal one but rather the sweeping motion of the sun disk in its course. 

 

If "Avot" prayer concerns the personal, and "Tamid" prayer deals with the national, then "Yom" ('sun') prayer addresses the global.  In its blinding glare we do not speak of the Jew, or the Nation of Israel, but rather of world humanity and its logical extension, the cosmos.  When the motion of the sun conditions prayer and we answer its call, we become an integral part of the much larger tapestry of creation that is constantly seeking an encounter with the Creator.  We cease being preoccupied with our personal needs and national concerns and instead consider things from the perspective of eternity.  In the cosmic dimension of God's transcendence, our most pressing individual and communal problems vaporize and vanish, as we are overawed by the grandeur of His presence. 

 

 

The Ideal Prayer

 

Which of these three aspects corresponds to our three daily prayers?  Is the ideal prayer for which we must strive the 'Avot,' the 'Tamid,' or the 'Sun?'  Of course it is a combination of all three.  The times of prayer in Jewish tradition are dictated by the positions of the sun.  In fact, the name of each service is derived from the light conditions prevailing at the time of its recital.  The morning prayer is therefore called Shacharit, which literally means 'dawn' or the 'lifting of night's blackness.'  The afternoon prayer is named Mincha, which is a derivation of the biblical root 'NOaCh', meaning rest or respite.  The Ramban (13th century, Spain) explains that 'Mincha' time is really a description of the hour that the sun's heat and light begin to subside and decrease (See his commentary to Shemot  12:6, end).  Figuratively speaking, at Mincha time or afternoon, the sun is coming to rest and preparing to set.  The nighttime prayer 'Maariv' comes from the biblical root 'EreV,' which means to 'mix' or to 'combine.'  As Avraham Ibn Ezra (11th century, Spain) explains, in the darkness of night the perception of an object's distinct and discrete material qualities dissipates, and different objects seem to become commingled and fused together.  In the absence of the light of day, colors disappear and proportions become ambiguous and undefined (see his commentary to Bereishit 1:5).

 

Additionally, it is indeed striking that although the entire morning is acceptable for the recitation of the 'Shacharit' prayer, the most ideal time for its recitation is at the moment of sunrise.  Reciting the prayer at this special time  ('Vatikin') is considered particularly meritorious and worthwhile.  Similarly, there were those who felt that the 'Mincha' prayer ought to be ideally recited during the final moments before sunset.  Normative practice discouraged this, however, lest the supplicant miss the time and with it the prayer.  In any case, it is clear that when prayer is linked to the positions of the sun, it implies a universal and cosmic framework that links together all of creation in attempting to achieve fellowship with the Creator.

 

The 'Tamid' character of our prayers is, of the three, the most obvious.  The 'Shemona Esrei' or 'Eighteen Benedictions' in their current configuration are primarily concerned with expressing our ongoing, daily, common and conventional needs.  The prayer follows a set formula that is phrased in the plural, for its tone is communal and national.  In its recitation, the supplicant attaches him/herself to the Jewish people as a whole.  The liturgy of the prayer and its rigid formulary phrases, reflect personal needs and desires through the prism of peoplehood.  The times of prayer are, according to this model, a function of the times of the daily offering in the Temple, and thus tend to be much broader than the precise moment of sunrise or sunset.  In this model of the prayer, one does not wait for the special moment of inspiration (which may never come!), but instead becomes accustomed to seek God's presence on an ongoing basis and according to a constant and unvarying routine.

 

The 'Avot' property of our prayers is, for many of us, the most absent from our devotional lives.  It should be quite clear by now, though, why the Deity is introduced in the beginning of the 'Shemona Esrei' as the 'God of Avraham, the God of Yitzchak, and the God of Yaacov,' for these three individuals were able to master this aspect addressing Him.  In this form, we stand before God as unique personalities, and describe to Him in unpremeditated language our intimate and particular needs.  This type of prayer requires no social or communal context, nor is it served well by ritualism or institutionalism. 

 

We tend to think that the current state of worship practiced in many of our synagogues stifles 'Avot' expression, and indeed, there is truth to this assertion.  At the same time, it should be emphasized that the development of a set form and liturgy of prayer was never meant to replace or to suffocate personal expression.  Quite the contrary.  The 'Tamid' form serves as a framework to allow individuals to succinctly and eloquently express basic requirements, while remaining cognizant of the communal and national dimension of their lives.  The Halakha actually mandates the inclusion of personal supplications in the appropriate blessing of the 'Shemona Esrei,' each person according to his needs and powers of expression (see Shulchan Arukh Orach Chaim Ch. 98, and Ch. 119:1-2).

 

The ideal prayer, therefore, must include all three of these attributes.  It must have a personal, communal/national, and universal quality, because our relationship with God is lived out on all three levels.  Tradition is teaching us that prayer that lacks one of these aspects is not complete.  Our objective, therefore, must be to overcome indifference, to transcend rote and to master the art of standing in God's presence.

 

Shabbat Shalom.

 

For further study: see Rambam's (12th century, Egypt) incisive analysis of the origins of prayer in his Laws of Prayer Chapter 1.  Rather than viewing 'Avot' and 'Tamid' as two independent aspects, he instead perceives them as two stages in an evolving process.

 

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