blogs/rabbi-huberman

Praying Through Our Fears 

I have a friend, a distinguished lawyer, who once shared with me his internal struggle between the nature of formal Jewish prayer -- and his fear of flying.

"I always get nervous when I get on a plane," he said. "I wish there was a Jewish prayer which just said "Dear God, please don't crash this plane."

But Judaism has no such prayer.

During times of stress or fear, we are encouraged to recite the Shema Yisrael - "Hear Oh Israel, the Lord is God, the Lord is One."

The Shema, which is shared twice in the Torah, is considered the centerpiece of Judaism's morning and evening prayer service.

It is traditional for Jews, where possible, to recite the Shema before they enter the world of souls. Parents teach it to their children to say before they go to sleep.

Many different reasons for taking comfort in this particular prayer have been offered up, but most rabbis agree that, when we are overcome by concern or fear, the Shema empowers us appeal to God's oneness, as we ask for shelter, comfort, and ultimately liberation.

There is a second prayer which some recite before they embark on the journey; this one traces its roots to Talmudic times.

It is known as Tefillat HaDerech - The Traveler's Prayer. It implores God to "lead us ... to reach our destination in life, joy, and peace."

The prayer also asks God: "Save us from every enemy and ambush, from robbers and wild beasts on the trip, and from all kinds of punishments that rage and come to the world."

Isn't it interesting that, while the specifics of the prayer have changed, the threats it describes remain as consistent as ever?

And so, as my friend observed, the nature of communal prayer often speaks in generalities. So what do we do when a personal crisis requires a more specific approach?

What happens when we or someone we care about is affected with illness, or other hardship? What is the prayer to request God to intervene, and influence that which we cannot control?

Is there space within Judaism for a prayer individualized enough to answer a specific crisis, and no other?

As it happens, this week's Torah portion tells us: yes, there is.

Indeed, while most Jewish prayers deal with overarching theology, this week, Moses ventures off script to deliver an eleven-letter personal prayer.

This, I believe, introduces a prototype for private and reflective Jewish prayer.

This week's Torah portion, Be'ha'alotcha, begins by speaking of the lighting of the seven-branched menorah, which guided the Israelites through the desert.

Soon, however, the narrative refocuses to provide a portal into Moses's personal life. Earlier portions of this Torah hint that Moses is working too hard, and that this is causing strain on his marriage.

At an unspecified point, Moses's wife Tziporah disappears from view, and this week, we're told of Moses's marriage to a Cushite woman.

Moses' sister Miriam and his brother Aaron are not pleased, and they begin to gossip.

Were Miriam and Aaron upset at Moses's new marriage out of empathy for Tziporah? Or was it, perhaps, the nationality of Moses's new wife, who was born in Cush, a land in North Africa?

We can't be certain. But, as the Torah tells us, soon after Miriam defames her brother, she is struck with a skin disease, and so is quarantined at the edge of the community.

At this moment, the future of Jewish prayer takes a dramatic turn.

Moses, frightened for his sister, implores God for help not by reciting the Shema, or any other global prayer, but rather utters the words el na, refa na la --"please, God, heal her."אל נא רפא נא ל�"

Direct. To the point. Heartfelt. Meaningful.

In Hebrew, this prayer is formed of eleven letters ---as was the name of God as it was revealed to Moses at the burning bush. א�"י�" אשר א�"י�", ehyeh asher ehyeh-- "I will be who I will be."

This subtle connection-- an eleven-letter exhortation, the eleven-lettered name of God -- opens the door for us to develop our own prayer.

That Moses devised this prayer for a loved one when he was most frightened and helpless against the danger in which she stood, speaks an eternal truth: our problems, our fears, our concerns are perpetually changing -- but so is God.

The words "I will be who I will be" tells us that the name of God is also a promise that God evolves with us, and adapts to changing circumstance.

As Rabbi Rachel Barenblat writes, "When we use this short prayer to pray for healing, we implicitly call upon a God who is ever-changing. We call upon the God who is continually becoming, to heal and strengthen our loved one who needs transformation and change."

Friends, sometimes we are reluctant to pray. We declare, "I've prayed before and nothing has happened." Sometimes we don't know which words to recite.

Sometimes, we pride ourselves in being rational: How can a prayer -- how can mere words -- affect what is coming, what will be?

But I believe that prayer works. I believe that God can intervene.

As well, within the impulse to pray, we send hope into the universe. In declaring our love, empathy, and concern through prayer, we buoy the sick and the distraught.

Prayers can also imbue an often cold and materialistic world with spirituality -- and with humanity.

But perhaps most of all, prayer reminds us that we are part of something bigger. It can move us from the selfie to the selfless. This can be life altering.

Moses inspires us this week with the message that a single voice, speaking a few heartfelt words, can be heard.

El na, refa na la-"please, God, heal her." אל נא רפא נא ל�"

We are reminded that the words of one person can make a difference: after seven days of sickness, Miriam returns to the camp, restored and renewed.

Moses's prayers are answered, and his example continues to inspire us.

There are so many recorded cases of those sick or critically injured temporarily leaving this world: experiencing death, and returning to life.

After they are revived, many recall that, in the space between this world and the world of souls, they heard and were moved by the prayers of relatives and friends.

And may it be so for us, whether we face uncertainty as we board a plane, or pray for the welfare of another.

Within a tradition of general prayer, God does listen to words from our hearts. We are empowered to develop prayers to God which are right for us.

Who is it in our lives do we need to be praying for right now? Indeed, do we have the courage to ask God, in our own words, in our own way?

Please, God, heal the person I love.

Please, God, heal me.

Shabbat shalom, v'kol tuv (with all goodness)

Rabbi Irwin Huberman