Who Hears My Prayers
By Amy Hirshberg Lederman

I remember it as if it were yesterday. My beautiful sixteen year-old daughter, dancing just the night before, lay motionless in the hospital bed in pain. She had fallen from the roof and shattered her third and fourth vertebrae.

Her father and I privately nursed our worst fears about what lay ahead: from permanent paralysis to a lifetime of chronic pain. My daughter was more upset about the immediate future. Would she have to miss her prom? Could she still perform in the school musical that was opening in two weeks? Would she be able to go back to school to finish her sophomore year?

The decision we had to make within the next eight hours was not an easy one: whether to have extensive surgery to fuse her broken back or rely upon a full body brace for six months in the hopes that it would heal properly. Both had risks and both had complications. She looked at her dad and me as if we had the answer. My mind was a blank with the exception of a simple line that kept repeating itself, over and over again. “Dear God, please let Lauren be okay.”

Lauren broke my internal reverie with her own sweet voice.
“I want the surgery,” she said, “so that I’ll know for sure that my bones will heal in place.”

Then she added, as if reading my mind, “I’m going to be okay, Mom.”

Thankfully, those days are now a blur of doctors and medical decisions, of family and friends whose kindness filled our home with love, consolation and of course, food. For months afterwards, I went to bed and woke up each morning with the same words running through my mind. “Dear God, please let her heal.”

Praying to God in this way was not new to me because I have been in an ongoing conversation with God since I was a little girl. But my daily prayers caused me to wonder: Does it matter how I pray to God? Do my own heartfelt words have the same impact and effect as traditional Jewish prayer?

Prayers from the heart have always been recognized as authentic in the Jewish tradition. The Torah is replete with examples of unique and personal prayers, most often offered in the context of an immediate need or request for protection, guidance or healing. David petitioned God for refuge from Saul saying: “Hear my cry, O God; Attend unto my prayer.” (Psalms 61:1) Moses pleaded with God to save his sister Miriam from leprosy by crying out: “Oh Lord, please heal her!” (Numbers 12:13) And Hannah, a barren woman who desperately wanted a son, prayed to God vowing, “then I shall give him to You (God) all the days of his life…” (Samuel I: 1:11)

From the beginning of time, we have used prayer as a vehicle to be in a relationship with God. It is the language of encounter, even when we are uncertain to whom we are speaking or what we want to say. Yet, traditional Jewish prayers have often been hard for me to relate to. The wording is stiff and archaic and the images do not speak to me personally. What has become clear to me however, is the value of having precise and definite texts when praying together as a community.

When we pray together in community, we do much more than simply recite ancient Jewish texts: We affirm and honor our relationship to our ancestors. We speak for those who cannot speak for themselves and we offer comfort and support to those who don’t have the strength. We affirm our history, tradition and people-hood as we share the same liturgy with Jews the world over. And regardless of whether we pray in France, China or San Diego, our communal voice is always stronger than any individual voice alone.

Prayers from the heart have a place in the Jewish tradition along side the ancient masterpieces of traditional communal expression. When we pray from a place of deep and personal direction, we pray with kavannah (which means “intentionality” in Hebrew). When we recite set liturgical prayers at specific times of day, we pray with keva (which means “fixed” in Hebrew). Neither is complete without the other. To be a part of the historical Jewish community, we pray with keva. To be in a unique and personal relationship with God, we pray with kavannah. Each way gives us opportunities to express our faith, desires, needs, gratitude, fears and hopes.

As our sages so wisely counseled us: “Hence, the Holy One declared to Israel: When you pray, pray in the synagogue in your city; if you cannot pray in the synagogue in your city, pray in your open field; if you cannot pray in your open field, pray in your house; if you cannot pray in your house, pray on your bed; if you cannot pray aloud on your bed, commune with your heart.” (Midrash Tehilim 4:9)
 

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