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November 12, 1999/3 Kislev 5760, Vol. 52, No.11
What does prayer achieve?
RABBI ISMAR SCHORSCH
Toledot/Genesis 25:19 - 28:9
What does prayer accomplish?
How often have we prayed to no avail for the recovery of someone we love?
Years ago, when I was a freshly minted rabbi, I served a two-year stint as a chaplain in the U.S. Army. I
spent the first year at Fort Dix, N.J., ministering to a large number of Jewish inductees at a stressful moment in
their lives. One day a week, I continued my doctoral studies in Jewish history at Columbia University. I was
growing both rabbinically and intellectually. Then my world caved in.
Just a few days before the
bris of my first-born son, I received orders for Korea. Although a precarious
truce had settled on the divided peninsula 10 years earlier, South Korea remained a poor, under-developed
country. I was assigned to a logistical command in Taegu far south of Seoul. The military provided no housing for
the families of officers, so like most officers, I left my family in the United States.
The entry into my new post proved exceedingly difficult. Physical accommodations in a roomy cabin with
two other chaplains, one Protestant and the other Catholic, both of whom I liked, were comfortable enough, but
I missed my family beyond words. The books I had brought with me to study outnumbered the few
congregants I would serve, and I resented the interruption of my course work.
One evening, I sat on the porch with my clerical friends, in a particularly sour mood of silent self-pity. I
excused myself to daven Ma'ariv (recite evening prayers), not out of external obligation but because I desperately
needed help. That evening I prayed as if my life were at stake. I recited each word aloud, filling it with the contents
of my struggle. By the time I finished, I felt immeasurably calmer. To my astonishment, the unrelieved
darkness was never to return. I completed my tour of duty productively, garnering experiences, reading books in
several languages and helping a few people in trouble.
I have often reflected on that transformative moment. True, my prayers yielded no miracle; the Pentagon
did not issue new orders calling me home. Instead, God granted me the gift of the ability to endure and accept
what could not be changed. Praying helped me regain control of myself; it imbued me with perspective that helped
me transcend my personal crisis.
Praying can make a vast difference. And given the inextricable connection between our inner and outer
lives, our spiritual and physical sides, prayer can at times help us determine the true cause of our lack of external
well-being.
This is how I prefer to understand the end of Rebecca's barrenness, as described at the beginning of this
week's Torah portion. Prayer plays a central role in the story. First Isaac, and then Rebecca, turn with ease and
intimacy to God, imploring God through prayer. For Rebecca, an immigrant without family, married to a stranger,
prayer did not correct a medical problem; it alleviated a state of mind.
"Isaac pleaded with (God) on behalf of his wife ..." (Genesis 25:21). The Hebrew
verb va-ye'atar denotes an act of intensive prayer, hence the translation "pleaded." The
midrash (rabbinic commentary) imagines Isaac
and Rebecca, each in a separate corner of the house, praying fervently and frequently. Their common recourse
to prayer deepened their union and increased the likelihood of conception.
Then, when Rebecca is pregnant and in a state of great discomfort, she returns to God for relief.
Again, perspective offers solace. God tells her that the destiny of the nation in formation is adumbrated in the
entangled twins in her womb. Prayer yields the insight that makes the ephemeral endurable.
God responds to human tears with meaning, not miracles. The laws imbedded in nature are not overturned
for our benefit. God listens and illuminates, for we are above all creatures of meaning. Understanding is the key
to our salvation.
In the immortal words of Rabbi Akiva: "Humans are beloved, for they were created in God's image. In fact,
they are exceedingly beloved, for it was made known to them that they were created in God's image" (Pirkei Avot 3:18).
Rabbi Ismar Schorsch is chancellor of the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York. For other
commentaries on the Internet, visit www.jtsa.edu/pubs/schorsch
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