The Power of Prayer

When I was asked to prepare a series of lessons on prayer, it naturally prompted me to read and study more on the subject. I benefited most of all—my own prayer became so much deeper and more thoughtful, richer and more meaningful.

If we knew the power of prayer, we would use every opportunity to turn to our heavenly Father.

The Maharal of Prague writes that even if something good has been destined for a person, if he does not pray, he will not receive what has been prepared for him.

“No shrub of the field was yet on the earth, and no grass of the field had yet grown, for the L-rd G-d had not sent rain upon the earth, and there was no man to till the soil” (Genesis, 2:5). Although the Torah says earlier (Genesis, 1:12), “And the earth brought forth vegetation,” the grass had not actually grown; it was “ready to emerge,” level with the earth's surface. Why had there been no rain? Rashi writes, “Because there was no one who would recognize the benefit of rain. When Adam appeared, he understood that rain was necessary and began to pray for it—and the rains came, and the grass and trees grew.” Everything had been prepared, but until a person asked, nothing grew.

Rav Shimshon David Pincus also speaks about this: “The Almighty awaits our prayers, and the abundance that is meant to descend to us is held back.”

Men have a greater obligation to study Torah—their part in repairing this world. Prayers from the depths of the heart are more the province of women. Our mothers, many generations before us, when they did not yet know how to pray from a siddur, would “talk” to the Almighty while washing dishes, doing laundry, tending to their children, and traveling. Women are more inclined to share their problems; we have a stronger sense that the Almighty is near.

The Chafetz Chaim (Rav Yisrael Meir HaKohen) had a son-in-law, Rav Tzvi Hirsch Levinson, who departed this world at a young age. He was a great Torah scholar, righteous and pious. When he died, his widow was inconsolable. “Why did the Almighty take my husband, of all people?” she cried. The Chafetz Chaim came to comfort his daughter and said, “Your husband was a great tzaddik. If it brings you a little comfort, know that a third of the world was to perish; the decree was already prepared. But instead, it was decided to take your husband alone.”

The Ramchal writes in his book Derech Hashem (2:3:8) that when suffering comes to a righteous person, it atones for his generation because the tzaddik accepts the suffering with love.

But an ordinary person, too, can pray for others when suffering comes to him and his heart is open. At such a time, he does not need to search for words to pray or be in a special frame of mind—he speaks from the depths of a heart filled to the brim.

In the book Zohar HaRakia (Munkacs edition), Rav Yaakov ben Chaim Tzemach comments on the words of our sages: “There is no drop that descends from above without two drops rising from the earth to meet it.” What are “drops from above”? They are the abundance that the L-rd wishes to give us. What are “drops from below”? They are the tears we shed as we ask for well-being.

To receive abundance from above, we need to shed tears in prayer.

We feel that our daily prayer, rushed and squeezed in, is worth nothing. But even when we pray using words from the siddur without fully understanding what is written, in a hurry and on the go, our prayer “works.” Yet at least one prayer a day must be said with real sincerity, thinking about every word.

Even if that prayer is not from the siddur but in your own words, in any language, what matters is that it is sincere and comes from the heart.

to be continued

Prepared by: Mrs. Zissi Skarzhinskaya