שְׁמַע קולֵנוּ. ה’ אֱלהֵינוּ חוּס וְרַחֵם עָלֵינוּ. וְקַבֵּל בְּרַחֲמִים וּבְרָצון אֶת תְּפִלָּתֵנוּ. כִּי אֵל שׁומֵעַ תְּפִלּות וְתַחֲנוּנִים אָתָּה. וּמִלְּפָנֶיךָ מַלְכֵּנוּ. רֵיקָם אַל תְּשִׁיבֵנוּ. כִּי אַתָּה שׁומֵעַ תְּפִלַּת עַמְּךָ יִשרָאֵל בְּרַחֲמִים. בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה’, שׁומֵעַ תְּפִלָּה – Hear our voice, Adonoy, our God; spare us and have compassion on us, and accept our prayers compassionately and willingly, for You are Almighty Who hears prayers and supplications; and from Your Presence, our King, do not turn us away empty-handed, be gracious and answer us and hear our prayer for You hear the prayers of every mouth of Your people, Israel, with compassion. Blessed are You, Hashem, Who hears prayers.
Intro
Most of the blessings in the Amida are straightforward. Lord, please grant me wisdom; Lord, please grant prosperity; Lord, grant me health; and more generally, Lord, please help. We understand that that’s what prayer is.
Then we get to this blessing, and it’s not like that; this is a prayer for God to accept our prayers. It’s a prayer about itself: self-referential, tautological, and circular.
But if you ever stop daydreaming and find that you’re midway through your prayers, this is an excellent spot to pay attention.
שְׁמַע
Listen to our voice. Do not hear, listen.
When the Torah describes the aftermath of the Exodus, it narrates how Yisro heard what happened and rushed to join up with Moshe and the Jewish People; hearing is passive, and listening is active. When someone pays attention to something, internal desire reaches outside themselves; when you hear something, it’s external that may or may not make a difference.
When Yisro heard what happened, it drove action and behavior; he paid attention and acted and behaved differently as a result – he listened.
We want God to listen, not hear.
קולֵנוּ
When we pray, we say words, but we want God to listen past the words and hear our voice, the sound and tone, the pauses and stutters. The word for voice here literally translates as cry – קול – which has the same numerological value as the word for ladder; prayer is a ladder, a world bridge from wherever you stand.
We may not have been praying with deliberate focus and intent, and we may not understand that much, but no matter – hear our cry.
There’s a story of a father who came to Rav Shimon Schwab with a telegram from his son – “Dad, please send money.” The man bitterly complained about his demanding and ungrateful son, and Rav Schwab corrected him and reread it with deep feeling; “Dad, Please! Please, please, please! Please send money.”
Saying these words three times a day gets you close to a thousand times a year. Sometimes, the words fall flat, but occasionally, something is happening in your life that creates an urgency. They’re not the same bland, generic words as last week, so here and now, listen to my voice today.
When the Torah narrates the Jewish People’s experience in Egypt, echoed by the Haggadah and Seder, the Torah describes how the people groaned from their backbreaking labor – vayeianchu viyzaku vataal shavasam. Fascinatingly, the Torah describes what they did, that they groaned, but also what happened, that their cries rose to Heaven, and God heard them and considered them a stirring prayer.
They didn’t pray; they were sighing in pain and misery. And that was enough; those were the worthy prayers the story turns on.
R’ Baruch of Mezhbozh taught that God hears all prayers, including thoughts without words, so the reverse is true as well; God hears words from the mouth that aren’t from the heart. Switching on here and realizing we may not have fully been present for our prayers can elevate them, transforming even the most perfunctory words into meaningful expressions of devotion.
Sometimes, we’re not praying; we’re crying and screaming. When rain gets cold, it turns to snow, but if it gets too cold, it won’t even snow; nothing will happen. Sometimes, even if that’s too hard, a person becomes numb from their experience. Sometimes, people can be in so much pain that they can’t cry or speak anymore. Where is God in that moment? Why isn’t God doing more?
(Requires sensitive analysis)
And yet the Exodus story reveals that even proper words and thoughts are unnecessary; they screamed from their labor, and God heard how hard it was for them – שָׁמַע ה’ קוֹל בִּכְיִי.
In the story of the legendary prophet Shmuel’s birth, his father, Elkanah, had two wives, Hannah and Penina. Penina had given birth to Elkanah’s children, and after another holiday with the family but with no children of her own, Hannah went to the Mishkan and cried her eyes out in tearful prayer and was confronted by Eli, the Kohen Gadol, who believes her erratic behavior suggests she may have been drinking, and her canonized response as recorded for the ages is as simple as it is powerful. “No, sir, I’m just a broken-hearted woman; I haven’t touched a drink. I’m just pouring my soul out to the Creator.” – וַתַּעַן חַנָּה וַתֹּאמֶר לֹא אֲדֹנִי אִשָּׁה קְשַׁת־רוּחַ אָנֹכִי וְיַיִן וְשֵׁכָר לֹא שָׁתִיתִי וָאֶשְׁפֹּךְ אֶת־נַפְשִׁי לִפְנֵי ה.
She tearfully poured her heart out and delivered Shmuel not long after.
Hear our cry, even if it isn’t a conventional prayer, even if it isn’t directed at Heaven or anywhere at all – שְׁמַע קולֵנוּ. See our pain, internal and external, and hear the voice that is in too much pain to cry.
ה’ אֱלהֵינוּ
hashem elokeinu
prayer without intention is like a body without a soul
hashem is kindness and compassion, elokeinu is din
חוּס וְרַחֵם עָלֵינוּ
Pity and compassion are different. Our bodies are physical and mundane matter, well designed but deeply flawed, like all things; pity our bodies with their weaknesses and predispositions. But our souls are designed for perfect, pure spirits; souls need mercy because souls can realistically always do better.
The word for pity here is about something the perceiver has a deep connection with – וְעֵינְכֶם אַל־תָּחֹס עַל־כְּלֵיכֶם.
It’s a word we used in some of the most profoundly powerful parts of the Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur liturgy, encapsulating a heartfelt plea for divine mercy and protection – חוסה על עמלך.
וְקַבֵּל בְּרַחֲמִים וּבְרָצון אֶת תְּפִלָּתֵנוּ
There are different ways to accept something.
When a teacher is excited to see your work, their desire suggests an expectation and belief that it will be high quality. When a teacher reluctantly accepts a submission with compassion and mercy, it indicates low-quality work.
There are times when everyone has prayed with all their heart and soul. You are not perfect, and no one is perfect, but those are perfect prayers, heartfelt, genuine, and earnest. Those are prayers God accepts with desire.
But then, some prayers are only acceptable with compassion and mercy. When a toddler presents their mother with a drawing of a car that’s just a scribbled mess, every good parent praises the child, thanks them for their thoughtful gift, and says how wonderful it is. Maybe it gets hung up on the fridge!
A parent who points out the unusual shape, proportions, or lack of wheels has done their child a terrible disservice that will probably cost many hundreds of hours of therapy down the line. Some interactions require compassion.
Of course, desire is better than compassion; it hurts if you tell a joke and only get a pity laugh. We want God to want our prayers; God desires righteous people or at least righteous prayers, but God can compassionately accept flawed people and imperfect prayers.
Despite our flaws and imperfections, a healthy self-image is essential. Humility does not mean low self-esteem; our sages cautioned against seeing ourselves as wicked – וְאַל תְּהִי רָשָׁע בִּפְנֵי עַצְמְךָ.
As we stand before our Father, the Creator who has lovingly and attentively shaped our entire experience, we can ask for compassion – וְקַבֵּל בְּרַחֲמִים וּבְרָצון אֶת תְּפִלָּתֵנוּ.
Mercy and strict judgment
The Kohen Gadol would enter the inner sanctum of the Beis HaMikdash on Yom Kippur, perform the ritual service, and say one single prayer, the only prayer ever uttered at Judaism’s holiest site. A lot of it was about rain.
Given the heavy agricultural dependency, we might reasonably expect the religious leader and representative of the entire generation to request the right amount of rain at the appropriate time and place, and it does.
But one line of the prayer confounds our expectations.
The prayer asks God to ignore the prayers of travelers who don’t want to get wet along the way -וְלֹא תִּכָּנֵס לְפָנֶיךָ תְּפִלַּת עוֹבְרֵי דְּרָכִים.
It’s arguably the most important day and ritual of the year; if we had to nominate one significant thing to pray for, we might think of several. But even if we have understood how rain is vital, why would ignoring travelers be the single most important thing we have to say about it?
The Alter of Kelm notes how powerful a sincere and heartfelt prayer must be to require counteraction by the Kohen Gadol on Yom Kippur in the Holy of Holies, even when it is transparently self-serving and contrary to the needs of the entire people at large. It may be selfish, but they mean it.
One of the most powerful phrases in the Torah is when God saw the young Yishmael dying in the desert. The Midrash imagines the angels arguing against divine intervention to save Yishmael because of the atrocities his descendants would commit, but they lose the argument because God evaluates things differently. God answers the boy based on where he is and the facts and circumstances as they are here and now – בַּאֲשֶׁר הוּא שָׁם.
karov hashem lchol korav asher yikraehuu – as long as it’s an honest prayer
esau is awful, but he lets out one cry, and that cry haunts us for millenia
Some prayers hurt us, both other people’s and our own. Esau and Yishmael’s prayers hurt the Jewish People for the rest of history; someone is praying for customers to come to them, not you, their team to win, not yours. Sometimes, the thing you so desperately want is actually going to be terrible for you.
We ask for God’s infinite mercy to also utilize strict judgment – protect us from the prayers that hurt us.
what if we daven for things that hurt us?
כִּי אֵל שׁומֵעַ תְּפִלּות וְתַחֲנוּנִים אָתָּה –
We ask God to hear the words, the prayers – תְּפִלּות. But we also ask God to hear more than that – וְתַחֲנוּנִים.
When a rabbi-looking fellow knocks on the door with a paper, you understand that he’s probably collecting for something, and if you’re in a charitable mood, you will answer and ask what he’s collecting for.
But if a young man, bruised and bleeding, taps faintly on the door, you don’t need to ask what happened because of a car crash or assault; it doesn’t matter; you know to call emergency services and that this person needs help.
The correct stance for prayer is to lean slightly with the head bent, right hand over the left hand, held together over your chest. The body language displays supplication, humility, respect, and deference.
We want God to see everything we don’t say – the groans, the emotions, even the silence – וְתַחֲנוּנִים.
The word for God used here is associated with God’s mighty kindness – אֵל. We ask God to kindly and powerfully listen, to find a suitable prayer where there isn’t one, or any prayer where there might not be.
R’ Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev once saw a Jew mumbling quietly in prayer and invited him over later that day. R’ Levi Yitzchak shook his hand and mumbled quietly to the man, who obviously didn’t understand. R’ Levi Yitzchak then spoke clearly and asked how he expected God to understand his prayers if he mumbled, but the man had a powerful rebuttal. A mother can hear her child crying from far away, and she can tell just from the cry whether her child is hungry, tired, or hurt.
Even if our words are slurred or stunted, listen with compassion – כִּי אֵל שׁומֵעַ תְּפִלּות וְתַחֲנוּנִים אָתָּה.
וּמִלְּפָנֶיךָ מַלְכֵּנוּ. רֵיקָם אַל תְּשִׁיבֵנוּ – dont turn us away empty handed
A prayer without proper intention is like a body without a soul – CITE
But we believe that merging the word with thought and intent is an unstoppable combination
(needs more work)
But we acknowledge our shortcomings; if we can’t do it correctly and we didn’t say it right, or the magic words or the proper formula, please listen anyway, and please don’t turn us away empty-handed – וּמִלְּפָנֶיךָ מַלְכֵּנוּ. רֵיקָם אַל תְּשִׁיבֵנוּ –
(what does it mean for God to listen)
The Abrudraham compares this prayer to a starving beggar who dreams of a hearty meal; if he goes to the back of a restaurant, the staff might not give him a gourmet feast, but if they can give him some scraps and leftovers, that would be an excellent outcome for him as well. He doesn’t need much to be better off; there is a large spectrum in between, a range of possibilities between where he is and what he wants – וּמִלְּפָנֶיךָ מַלְכֵּנוּ. רֵיקָם אַל תְּשִׁיבֵנוּ –
Maybe I don’t deserve all my wildest dreams, perhaps I don’t have the merit, maybe it’s not possible. But, please, give me something – וּמִלְּפָנֶיךָ מַלְכֵּנוּ. רֵיקָם אַל תְּשִׁיבֵנוּ.
The Rosh Hashana prayers use imagery of banging the door down – dafaknu delasecha CITE. We all need things, and if we can’t have what we need, let us have something in the alternative.
If they can’t be healthy, at least let the pain go away a little. If they can’t have a child, at least let them find the right treatments or adopt.
There are many paths in this world; if this door is closed, help me find the open one.
Sometimes the answer is no (needs heavy sensitivity and work)
When it comes to prayer, one of the common sayings is that God answers every prayer, but sometimes the answer is no.
This communicates that a prayer has not been ignored, and the person has been heard. But while this relieves the sense of being ignored, it creates a sense of rejection; it’s quite possibly a cruel thing to say to someone who desperately wants something.
It’s probably not correct, either. While the exact mechanics of prayer are unknowable, the very idea of prayer is incompatible with outright rejection.
The Ishbitzer suggests that our hearts and minds’ subconscious hopes and dreams are prayers; when you so much as hope for the best, or that things turn out okay, or even whisper “Please, God,” those thoughts bring vitality into the world that affirm and sustain life and growth.
This is a spiritualized version of the law of conservation of energy; energy can neither be created nor destroyed, only converted from one form of energy to another.
A prayer is something a human generates that the universe receives; it never goes to waste. The answer is never no, but the answer might be more like, not right now, or not like that – וּמִלְּפָנֶיךָ מַלְכֵּנוּ. רֵיקָם אַל תְּשִׁיבֵנוּ.
It is wishful thinking to believe that the universe molds itself to our wishes; the universe is mind-bogglingly complex and enormous. But maybe a prayer brings you one step closer; maybe your prayer will not work for the thing you hope or in the way you want; perhaps it gets stored up and will work for something else or someone else. Maybe your descendants, in ways you can never imagine.
We believe this in other contexts – your life and existence are the fruits of your ancestor’s prayers; the return of Jewish people to the land of Israel and the revitalization of the Torah after the Holocaust is the fulfillment of generations of dreams and prayers.
The answer is never no, but the answer might be more like, not right now, or not like that – וּמִלְּפָנֶיךָ מַלְכֵּנוּ. רֵיקָם אַל תְּשִׁיבֵנוּ.
Our prayers are meaningful, they matter – וּמִלְּפָנֶיךָ מַלְכֵּנוּ. רֵיקָם אַל תְּשִׁיבֵנוּ.
. כִּי אַתָּה שׁומֵעַ תְּפִלַּת עַמְּךָ יִשרָאֵל בְּרַחֲמִים
This prayer goes well beyond our personal prayer and includes the prayers of the People of Israel. Individual prayers aren’t individual; the Amida prayers are pluralized, as most prayers are.
As others pray and have prayed for us; we pray for others, even those who don’t pray at all – כִּי אַתָּה שׁומֵעַ תְּפִלַּת עַמְּךָ יִשרָאֵל בְּרַחֲמִים
שׁומֵעַ תְּפִלָּה
All kinds of prayers count, however poor or weak. Using the broadest definition of prayer, it even includes screaming, groaning, crying, and silence.
God has told us to turn to God, even if we don’t mean it or feel it; that’s the universe God created, and that’s how the system works. There is nowhere else to turn but God, so if we uphold our end, God must respond – שׁומֵעַ תְּפִלָּה.
In a certain sense, that’s God’s job; that’s what God does, and that’s how it works. The postal service delivers the post everywhere in the country or everywhere in the world. They deliver to people who don’t pay them; the sender or government pays for the post; they still deliver because that’s their job. God listens to all prayers, that’s the job – שֹׁמֵעַ תְּפִלָּה עָדֶיךָ כּל־בָּשָׂר יָבֹאוּ.
There can be no such thing as a prayer that is not good enough to count because it is defined by the receiver, not the giver.
When two people are talking at once, it is hard to follow what each says; adding more people talking quickly becomes impossible. But God, as the receiver of prayers, unbundles each voice, focusing on each individual prayer, the hearer of prayer, not prayers – שׁומֵעַ תְּפִלָּה / TEFILOS CITE.
You can be at the Western Wall with thousands of people at the top of their voices; God hears each voice, as God himself speaks, with a small, still voice.
The Yaavetz encourages us to be honest and truthful about what we want and care about. Do we care so deeply about the anonymous couple yearning for a child or the lone soldier we don’t know? It can be difficult to be invested in something you are detached and removed from. But this is the place to be honest about what matters to us; good parents want to know what their kids care about.
This is the place for that: anything, in whatever language.
Let it be real.
A person who prays in shul with a minyan at sunrise, reading every word with the proper intent, has done a Rabbinic mitzvah; a person visiting a hospital room who wishes the sick person better has performed a full-fledged Torah mitzvah. However technical, this cuts to the very essence of what prayer is; the Torah says to talk to God constantly – btzaar lecha – CITE
Whatever you want or need, whatever matters to you, this is the place to express it.
The Teshuas Chein (check) suggests that not only do our prayers and the prayers of all people stack, but God can create a scrapbook of prayers, editing, cutting, and pasting a prayer supercut from this word, that moment, those people; a masterpiece.
We talk about God answering and accepting prayers; we don’t mention outcomes or results. This blessing doesn’t ask for a yes; it doesn’t ask God to do our bidding. It asks only for God’s compassion, not to turn us away empty-handed. In the same prayer, I ask God to accept prayer in mercy and to reject the ones that won’t work out. Regarding outcomes for us and the people we love, we can only place our trust in God, Master of all.
A childless husband came to Rav Shimson Pinkus and asked for a blessing; he and his wife had tried every treatment, and nothing had worked. Rav Pinkus told him to return at 3 am, which he did. Rav Pinkus told him to get in the car, and they drove out to the desert, the middle of nowhere, with only the car headlights under the night sky. Rav Pinkus told the man he could not help him but that out there, with no disturbances, he could tell God what he really wanted. Rav Pinkus told him to get out of the car, that he’d collect him in half an hour, and drove off. The man prayed, and Rav Pinkus came back. When he saw the man’s face, he noticed the man’s face was regular; he wasn’t done yet and drove off again.
Instead of thinking about the baby he wanted this time, he thought much bigger. He started thinking about what it felt like not to have a child every time his poor wife walked through the park and teared up seeing children playing. He remembered the awkward shuffle whenever someone innocently asked them how many kids they had: every bris, every bar mitzvah. And the man accessed all his accumulated anger and pain; he ugly cried. Why God? Why does it have to be like this? It is unbearable!
Rav Pinkus returned to collect him and saw the mess on the man’s face. He was done. Within a year, he was the guest of honor at the bris.
(Is this a true story? Does it matter? Stories like this happen, even if it’s not often, even if it’s not to everyone)
A person can do everything right, pray right, learn right, do right, be right and good, with all the merits, customs, practices, and blessings. But if you don’t invest your story into the words of your prayer, you haven’t prayed with your most authentic self.
Your story is part of your prayer; hear my voice.