Rabbi Rael Blumenthal

A number of years ago, this story was told to Rav Zilberstein by a doctor:

I have a patient, a wife in her thirties who had a son. The process of having this child was the product of many infertility treatments, thousands of dollars and immense good fortune. After this boy was born, the doctors informed the couple that this would be their only child. It was medically impossible for her to conceive and carry another child to term.

And so, resigned to their fate, this couple poured their hearts and souls into the raising of this little boy; sending their son to a great school, ensuring he had wonderful teachers. They made sure to spend time and resources on giving him everything he needed.

As is typical in Jewish day schools, when their son was around six years old, they received a letter in his backpack inviting them to the annual siddur play, in which all the children in the grade would be given, for the first time, their very own siddur. Excitedly, they anticipated the day, and when they sat in the audience and watched their little boy singing tefillos to Hashem, their hearts filled with joy. They watched the smile on their son's face as his name was called, his siddur handed to him.

As they returned home that night, their son clutching his siddur, he turned to his parents and said:

“I'm so excited to have a siddur. Now I can ask Hashem for what I really want.”

“Well, what is it that your really want?” His parents asked?

“I want a baby brother.”

His parents were dumb founded. What could they say? On the one hand, it was medically impossible, and on the other hand, how could they tell their son not to daven? So they looked at him and said “You have a siddur, you know how to daven, so ask Hashem for a baby brother.”

Nine months later, his brother was born.

Moshe Rabbeinu is standing by the burning bush and Hashem is attempting to persuade him to take the job of leading the nation out of Mitzraim. Moshe, for his part, has many reasons why he should not go, finally culminating in his complaint that he has a debilitating speech impediment – How could I possibly be the person to speak to Paroah and the nation? Hashem then tells Moshe, that He will send Aharon to be the spokes person instead.

The Ramban (4:10) asks a tremendous question: Hashem is Hashem. Why didn't he simply heal Moshe's speech impediment?!

It's quite simple, says the Ramban: Moshe never prayed for it.

Why is davening so difficult? Why do we have such a hard time making our way through the siddur or the machzor?

Allow me to suggest, audaciously, that we don’t have a problem with tefillah at all. When we really want something, we do pray for it.

In times of crisis, when we are acutely aware of our vulnerabilities – during sickness, or war – our ability to pray becomes self evident. These moments, like we’ve experienced since October 7th, teach us something so valuable about ourselves – that each of us can truly daven: קרוב ה' לכל קוראיו לכל אשר יקראוהו באמת.

Rav Kook in his Olas Re'iah explains this phenomenon:

אין התפלה באה כתקונה כי אם מתוך המחשבה שבאמת הנשמה היא תמיד מתפללת. הלא היא עפה, מתרפקת על דודה בלא שום הפסק כלל, אלא שבשעת התפלה המעשית התפלה הנשמתית התדירית הרי היא מתגלה.

Real Tefillah can only result from the understanding that in essence, the soul is always davening. Does she not fly, hovering to her beloved without any disconnect at all? Only that in the moment of actual prayer, this constant connection is revealed in practice.

What Rav Kook is teaching us is that tefillah our natural state of being. Each of us is a חלק אלוק ממעל ממש – A piece of Hashem, and in truth, we want to connect to Hashem again. Tefillah is not foreign to us, it is who we are.

Our difficulty with davening is not our ability. It’s our desire. Are we ready to focus on what’s lacking in our lives? Are we ready to ask for the changes that our tefillah will bring?

We’re caught between the guilt of knowing we should be davening seriously, and the lethargy that lures us into complacency.

If this resonates, here are some suggestions to alleviate the anguish that accompanies attending shul on the Yamim Noraim.

1. Become An Advocate in Shamayim

In some ways, it's easier for us to ask on behalf of others. If it's challenging to ask Hashem for our own needs, it is so much easier to ask for others. Rav Wolbe writes that the primary obligation of a parent is to daven for their kids. Which of our kids does not need our tefillos? For health, for success in school, for a stable and safe social life?

2. Find a Tefillah Buddy

Everyone needs something, some more than otheres. There are people in our kehillah battling sickness, financial concerns, infertility and trauma. Chazal (Bava Kama 92) tell us: כל המבקש רחמים על חבירו, והוא צריך לאותו דבר – הוא נענה תחילה – Anyone who davens for their friend and needs the same thing is answered first. If you know of someone else who shares your need; daven for them. Feel free to tell them, or not to. But including that person in your tefillos is an opening for you as well.

3. Don’t Just Daven to Hashem, Daven for Hashem

The Shela HaKadosh explains that in the deepest way, all of our tefillos are for Hashem. He created us, and this world. He gave us our lives and everything that fills them. We are not davening for our own purpose, but to fulfill His. Like a good parent, Hashem is happiest when His children are healthy, wealthy and getting along. Ask for the things you need, with the confidence that Hashem really wants to give them to you.

As we prepare to enter the season of our greatest Tefillah, my prayer is that succeed in transcending the words on the page. The words and letters should provide the springboard to more profound relationships with Hashem, ourselves and each other.

Wishing us all a כתיבה וחתימה טובה.