As a child I attended Yeshiva Torah Vodaath.  Every day when coming to morning services I was mesmerized by an older man named Rabbi Chaim Gelb.  I can still remember Reb Chaim calling out “Amen.”  Sometimes he’d give me a candy and ask me to recite a blessing so that he could mightily respond “Amen.” 

At Yeshiva University rabbinical school years later, I was deeply influenced by the saintly Rav Dovid Lifschitz.  I can still remember Rav Dovid on Simchat Torah surrounded by his students leading us in the niggun “ve-taher libeynu”— words in which we call out to God to purify our hearts.  It seemed to me whenever Rav Dovid would pray it would be in the spirit of that niggun.

This week’s portion offers a halakhic base that enhances the meaning of both of these stories.  The torah states “u’leavdoh bekhal levavkhem.”  “And you shall serve God with all your heart.” (Deuteronomy 11:13)  Maimonides concludes that this is the source of prayer.  U’leavdoh means that every day we are obligated in prayer.

It would seem that Rambam believes that prayer is a religious obligation.  I may not feel like praying—still there is a religious imperative to serve God daily.

This was my sense of Reb Chaim Gelb’s prayer.  Standing before God he would call out “Amen.”  One could sense the great joy he felt in fulfilling the mitzvah of prayer.

There may be another way to understand Maimonides.  Without God many people feel a deep sense of loneliness.  For these individuals, life has no meaning if God is absent.  Like a lover who constantly longs for his beloved, so does one feel constant despair without God.  From this perspective, one prays daily as one is in constant search of the Lord without whom life is impersonal, void and empty.

This latter approach to Rambam fundamentally differs with the first.  In the first, the desire to pray does not emanate from the petitioner but from God.  We, therefore, have an obligation, whether we feel it or not, to serve God daily.  In the second approach the need to pray comes from the petitioner as an expression of constant angst if God is not present.

This was the feeling behind the fervent prayer of Rav Dovid Lifschitz.  In his heartfelt “ve-taher” I sensed a tzaddik who felt ongoing emotional spiritual pain if he was not in rendezvous with God.  Like a fish seeking water, Rav Dovid sought the ongoing presence of God.

My father-in-law, Zalman Aryeh Hilsenrad, was a deeply devout Jew.  He named his first book (a compilation of articles he wrote for the Jewish Press) “Tzam’ah Nafshi, My Soul Thirsts.”  Years later he penned a second volume.  He called it “My Soul Thirsts Still,” nothing less than our second approach to Rambam.

The challenge is to realize that during prayer both approaches are necessary.  Solely praying to God without listening to our souls minimizes our individual worth.  At the same time, expressing only our individual needs to God is selfish.  May we be blessed to find the balance of listening to God and listening to ourselves.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Avi Weiss