Index
Davening
We need that skepticism for quality assurance, because fooling oneself is easy. This is why I so love the statement in Psalm 34:9, “Taste and see that God is good.”
if an insight emerges for you, take a few quiet moments to daven it in. And may you, too, as so many holy ones have before, experience the vision of prayer in your mind’s eye, the living taste of prayer in your heart, and the deep and gentle glow of prayer in your soul.
Deuteronomy 26:17–18, which speak of a reciprocal relationship between us and God. The verb used to capture this relationship is aleph-mem-resh. In the simple form this means “to say,” but here—uniquely in Torah—it is used in a transitive form: he’emarta and he’emirkha. God “says” us, and we “say” God.
Just as I heard it said to me in a whisper, so I told it to you in a whisper” (Genesis Rabbah 3:4).
The imaginal world is a real world. Real things happen in the imaginal world that affect this world in turn.
prayer begins with kavanah. To daven with kavanah means to pray with focus, intention, meaning. It means praying from the heart, rather than prayer centered solely in the mind.
Kavanah is not attained in a day. We start small and build patiently on every small success. But if we aim our actions and our davening toward a godly place, we will get there.
I can’t do this without Your help.”
“Dear God, please help me to let this thought go.
), wisdom to yield ko’ach mah (), the power of “What?”—the wisdom of getting to know what a thing is. Wise Mind seeks to understand the mitzvah lifnai ve-lifnim, inside and out. He wants to do the mitzvah in a completely integrated and organic way.
“duties of the heart,” in Bachya ibn Pakuda’s famous phrase,3 cannot be fulfilled without conscious and deliberate intention.
Saying the words without intent is clearly unsatisfactory; on the other hand, saying every word and syllable with full and true kavanah is close to impossible.
My entire life and everything I do are nothing but God Godding Godself as Zalman. The best thing I can do, then, is to make my life a good ride for God, to consciously devote my actions to that purpose.
The awareness that we stand in the presence of the Living God is one of the most important realizations we can install in our operative consciousness. God is always present. The question is, how present are we? We want to stand in that Presence without opacity. Our work is to penetrate, in meditation and in action, to the very heart of being nokhach penei ha-Shem (Lamentations 2:19), of being truly present before God.
Meister Eckhart was trying to express when he wrote, “The eye with which I see God is the same eye with which God sees me. My eye and God’s eye are one eye, one sight, one knowledge, and one love.”
meditating on the Tetragrammaton, the letters of God’s mysterious name, can open a channel to bring down the holy. As in Vipassana or pranayama, we can use our breathing to help us get there. Your lungs without breath are like the yud, the smallest letter, the vanishing point. Our inhalation forms the hey, letter of breath: hhhhhhh. At the top of the breath we form the vav, straight as an erect backbone. Then we breathe out—hhhhhhh—another hey. So we invite YHVH to come down and dwell within us. As Jews we are concerned about living in this world. Ours is not primarily an Ein Sof focus, a preoccupation with the world beyond the beyond, but a Gaia focus. Our fundamental kavanah is not to leave the world behind but to bring God into this world, to create the “Kingdom of heaven” in the life we live, right here and now.
Yir’ah, awe, is sometimes translated as fear, but neither completely captures the idea. The Hebrew root of yir’ah is yud-resh-aleph . The root of words meaning sight or to see is resh-aleph-hey . Yir’ah arises from the state of being seen for what we really are.
The awareness that we are being seen, that we do everything we do in the presence of that Witness—that is the true path to and meaning of yir’ah.
The disciple says, “Master, I couldn’t find a place where no One can see me.” The awareness that we are being seen, that we do everything we do in the presence of that Witness—that is the true path to and meaning of yir’ah.
“If I ascend to heaven, there You are; if I make my bed in hell, You are there” (Psalm 139:8).
Proverbs 3:6, “Be-khol derakhekha da’eihu, Know God in all your ways.”
important forms of consciousness maintenance, of kavanah watching kavanah.
If I knew it, I would be it; if I were it, I would know it.”
le-khaven el ha-matarah, to aim at the bull’s-eye. (Le-khaven is from the same root as kavanah, kaf-vav-nun.) This is a useful metaphor. When I finally embrace a matarah—a bull’s-eye, a target for my existence—and I say, “Yes, I will go with that, I will collaborate with that, I will invest myself in that,” then my embracing becomes a kavanah.
olam ha-ba—not “the world to come,” as the phrase is usually translated, but a world that is, at this very moment, becoming in us and around us.
“I come with a scroll-book on me,” says the psalmist, “in which there is one thing written”—like a journal, in which you declare its purpose on page one. This is what the scroll says: “My only desire is to do Your will. I want Your teaching in my very kishkes” (Psalm 40:8–9). This is my intent. This is what I want to do. I’m not there yet, but I’m on my way.
At the heart of kavanah lies the question: Why? Hebrew has two different words for why, madu’a and lamah, and each has a slightly different emphasis. Madu’a asks, “Mah yadu’a? What is known to us?” Philosophers might call this the what of etiology. It wants to know about origins and causes. Lamah asks, “Le-mah? What for?” This is the why of teleology. It asks: Where are we going with this? What is the goal? The why at the heart of kavanah is not only the madu’a of origins but the lamah of ultimate purpose.
“Every locksmith has a master key with which he can open many doors. Neginah is such a key, for it can unlock all doors.” Why? Because a niggun sung in the proper way is like doing teshuvah, like a moment of true repentance and turning to God. The wellsprings of niggun and teshuvah are the simple yearnings of the heart that we all share.
The word nusach can mean both text and melody.
nusach can also mean the melody or musical mode of a given time and place, which is what I mean here. Nusach conveys information.
Nusach also conveys emotion.
The ga’agu’im or longing niggunim that raise up these unspoken questions can create a sacred space that all can share.
Sometimes the heart wants to daven, and the mind starts arguing. But, as the great cantor and educator Max Helfman said once, “you can’t argue with a song or a dance!”
Maybe “the work is not upon you to finish” (Pirkei Avot 2:21). Someone else may complete your tune someday.
with the emotions that you hear behind the words.”
emotional landscapes—sometimes within a single paragraph.
A niggun is a path to God, a “song of ascension.” But we must set out along that path! We must travel with that intention in mind.
True prayer is like the iceberg: little that is visible on the surface, much that happens below.
the invitation to prayer says “come as you are.”
our souls accept only one outcome when it comes to prayer: transformation. We do not wish just to spin our mental wheels: We want to be changed. We want to be moved. We want to end in a better place than where we started. Our souls yearn for this. If we really mean the words we say, how can we help but be moved?
prayers as a journey through four different landscapes, four distinct facets of human experience: physical, emotional, intellectual, and spiritual. Each facet has its own character; each communicates in its own language; each speaks to a different part of us.
Asiyah is the realm of the practical and the sensible—the stuff we apprehend with our senses. We’re packing for our spiritual journey here, grounding ourselves in our physical bodies and in the here and now.
Yetzirah, on a human level, is the world of feelings, the world of passion.
The language here is plural. In Yetzirah, the realm of emotions and love, the boundaries between ourselves and others begin to feel permeable
“I’m attracted to you in Asiyah! I love you in Yetzirah!” She’s saying, “Meet me in Beriyah.”
In Beriyah, the language is no longer immanent but transcendent. Beriyah is the place of Wow, the place of wonder. We praise and give thanks for the constant and miraculous regeneration by a Creator who “renews, each day and always, the work of creation.” This is not the big bang understanding, in which a single event set the rest of the universe in motion. It is a mystical vision of the entire world being created anew in every instant. A person who sees the universe with such eyes can welcome each and every moment as a new opportunity for praise. In Beriyah, we are still in the group, but what the group does at this stage is to give you a matrix in which to do your individual work.
An important part of davening is to just sit be-nachat ru’ach, in serenity of spirit, and to allow for that to come in.
The word Atzilut refers to something that is noble, high, beyond. The world of Atzilut transcends our level of understanding. Boundaries are gone, definitions are gone. Individual words and thoughts are gone. We ourselves do not exist. Being as we know it has ceased.
Kabbalistic tradition imagines us davening the Amidah in the world of Atzilut.
So never mind the achievements and attainments; just talk like a friend to God about what you are really concerned about. If a thought comes, turn it into a prayer. These heartfelt prayers are the ones that are really important; these are the prayers we save for Atzilut, sending them directly to the highest level. I start by saying the introductory verse: “Adonai sefatai tiftach u-fi yagid tehilatekha, Please God, open my lips and let my mouth declare Your praise.”
When a concern comes up for anything, turn it into a bakashah, a request. Then set is aside and go back to stillness.
Each dimension of ourselves—physical, emotional, intellectual, spiritual—has its own needs and speaks its own language. I don’t want to leave any part of me out. I want my davening, my spiritual life and practice, to integrate them all. How can this holy conversation be real unless my entire self is engaged?
We cannot think our way to God. We cannot reach God by a safe, step-by-step process.
If we limit God to the ultimate abstraction, then whom are we praying to? But if instead we come at this from a Yetzirah heart space, that changes everything. If we attune ourselves to Yetzirah, the language of the davening makes sense, and all the stuff that we’re talking about here make sense. The feeling that we’re “doing the divine thing” makes sense—that’s why I like the term davening best, to describe what we’re doing at prayer.
Where in this many-layered universe does compassion reside? Who is the You of God for you?
All we need are feelings that we want to share with the listening presence of the universe. If you are not yet used to praying, start by expressing yourself in your own words.
how much time they had. I got some flak
“Voice arouses kavanah,”
Daven so your heart can feel what your lips are saying!
“Every breath will praise Yah” (Psalm 150:6). We can use this as a meditation with the YHVH, the Tetragrammaton. First empty your lungs and contemplate the yud, the smallest Hebrew letter, closest to emptiness. Then you breathe in, making a hhhhh sound; that’s the first hey. You hold the breath for a moment, sending it to all six directions in your body—that’s the vav, the sixth letter of the alphabet. Then you breathe out, hhhhh, to make the other hey. So we can use this prayer to scan our lung capacity and check in with our breath.
“Barukh ha-Shem—thank God. At last! Now I am free just to sit and enjoy. I don’t need to run; I don’t need to make, do, fix, or change. For one day, I can just be.” If we pause from running through our day to offer a prayer, we find that we have created a little piece of Shabbos
Throughout the centuries, the payyetanim—Jewish writers of spiritual poetry (piyyut, piyyutim)—have sought new ways of declaring their love for God.
Ashkenazi siddurim have “Ahavah rabbah ahavtanu” in the morning prayers and “Ahavat olam beit Yisrael amkha ahavtah” in the evening prayer. Chabad and some of the Sepharad siddurim, however, follow the Ari, who saw an important kavanah in the first letters of ahavat olam ahavtanu: aleph (1) + ayin (70) + aleph (1) add up to 72, a number the kabbalists saw as a permutation of YHVH: yud = 10; yud hey = 15; yud hey vav = 21; yud hey vav hey = 26. And 10 + 15 + 21 + 26 = 72.
When we study Torah, may we see clearly what is meant for us to know. When we do Mitzvot, may all our feelings sit harmonious in our heart. Focus all our hearts’ longing on that moment, when we stand in Your Presence, in awe and adoration.
harder to grasp than it sounds. The Tikkunei Zohar marvels, “You are One, but not in the sense of enumeration”—not “one” as an alternative to two, three, or four, but a Unity of infinite existence and infinite potential.
asking for what we truly need is the hardest part of prayer. We throw up all sorts of obstacles.
Whom am I praying to? I am praying to God, however I understand and experience that word right here and right now. I may not be praying to the God that is All, but simply sharing my tsuris with the face of God with which I am most intimate. Perhaps I am praying to whatever it is that listens in the universe. I don’t need to do any more than that. Who am I to ask for anything? I am a creation and manifestation of godliness. I am a wave in the ocean and a world unto myself. The infinite potential for creativity and love in the universe manifests in me and through me, as it does in every other creature. And will it help? We know some parents pray with all their hearts for a child to be cured of a life-threatening disease, and yet the little one dies. We pray daily for peace, yet we are still at war. Prayer is not a switch with which we can control the universe. But I do believe that we can, with our prayers, reach dimensions of existence that we do not otherwise have access to and that the openings in those higher worlds bring blessings down to us.
A prayer truly prayed is the beginnings of its own answer.
“O God, open up my lips, and let my mouth speak Your praise.”
This first sentence reminds us that prayer begins with silence. Think back to the silence that follows the last, enlarged dalet of the Shema statement’s final ECHAD. This is not a silence of absence but a silence full of the presence of the One, a silence of infinite potential.
If we want our prayers to be answered, we have to make sure not to hang up the phone too quickly.
During the week, you can take a piece of notepaper and a pencil. Reflect for a few moments after your davening and see what comes down. “So what do I have to do today, Ribbono shel olam?” Write down what comes to you, and try to refer to it during the day or before you go to sleep at night.
I begin in Asiyah, putting on my tallis and tefillin first, creating the prayer space that I need. I check in with my body, and I say Asher Yatzar, acknowledging the miracle of the limbs and organs that sustain me. Then I look out of the window and see the world outside, the people and the buildings and the trees, the sun or the rain or the snow, and I say, “Thank You, Ribbono shel olam, all of these are wonderful, and I thank You.” I want to spend a little time in Yetzirah if I possibly can, giving my emotions a voice.
I know that without help I’m not going to make it. I close with the Amidah’s final thought: “Oseh shalom, just as in the heavens everything works out as it should, so please, bring peace and tranquility upon us as well.”
the first task before us is to empty ourselves of our expectations—to free ourselves of the hold they have over us. I always quote Swami Satchidananda, who would say, “Don’t make any appointments, you won’t have any dis-appointments!”
“Dear God, whatever jealousies and resentments I might harbor in my heart, please remove this judgment from me.”
Reb Pinchas of Koretz, the great Hasidic master, wondered how we can pray for other people to become better. Are we not depriving that person of their choice and free will? The answer, he says, is that we are all part of each other. You are in me, and I am in you. Praying for the “you in me” to be better—the “you” that resides in my heart—somehow helps the “me in you” to do something good for you, and the “you in you” to become better. This is not a moral vision but an organismic vision. On a prayerful level, we are all part of each other and of the greater whole.
“If I am not for myself, who will be? But if I am only for myself, what am I?”
aleph-mem-nun, meaning to be firm or trustworthy. Amen means “So be it. May your words come to pass.” It is prayer and affirmation in one.