Vayetze (Psalms: Supplement) - Tahanun

What is Tahanun?

A few weeks ago (HY VI: Vayera) we noted the liturgical use of Psalm 25 in Tahanun by Sephardim and Habad Hasidim. Tahanun seems one of the less-known and less “popular” of our prayers, only infrequently discussed. The obvious question is: what is the nature of this prayer?

Tahanun, as we know it today, is a short penitential or petitional prayer recited on weekdays, immediately after the conclusion of the Amidah (and, in synagogue, after its repetition). Two salient points about it: first, it is recited in a posture of semi-prostration, in which the person leans forward and places his head in the crook of his arm (at one time, it was said while kneeling with ones head touching the ground, or even prostrating oneself fully). Second, there are numerous rules about when it is recited: basically, it is omitted on any date or occasion when there is even a minor degree of festivity; and, among Hasidim, even more so. What is the basic idea of this prayer? The Arukh ha-Shulhan (OH, §131) begins with the idea that one ought to worship God in every possible manner, including a variety of postures; thus, having recited Shema while seated, and Shemonah Esreh while standing, one recites Tahanun while prostrating oneself, so-to-speak ”falling” before God. But that is almost begging the question. What does this mode of prayer signify?

The gesture seems to suggest humility, self–abnegation, even contrition. I am hiding my face so as not to be seen, because I feel ashamed of myself. Or, alternatively, it expresses a sense of being overwhelmed by God’s presence. In the Bible, Moses and Aaron fall on their faces when they are at a loss as to what to do, as at Korah’s rebellion; many of the prophets fall on their faces upon being granted a vision of God. The related gesture, of putting one’s head between one’s knees is also a gesture of contrition and self-abnegation (see the story of Eleazar ben Durdai in Avodah Zarah 18a).

There are thus two intertwined themes: man’s smallness and insignificance, his distance from God, his sinfulness and need for constant kaparah; but also man’s neediness, literally begging before God, beseeching, pleading, prostrating oneself to show ones humility. Two prayers that precede Tahanun in many nushaot reflect these two related ideas: Vidui, a short version of the Confession recited on Yom Kippur, reflects the idea of man’s sinfulness and need for atonement; Shelosh-Esreh Midot, the Thirteen Attributes of Divine Mercy (from Exod 34:6-7), devolves from the idea of human creatureliness, neediness, and total dependence upon God’s compassion. The title of the prayer relates to the same concept. The word Tahanun is derived from the root חנן, from which we derive the words חנון (hanun; “compassionate, merciful”) and חן (hen; “grace, kindness, favor”). That is, we appeal entirely to God’s mercy, seeing ourselves as, so to speak, nothing, worthless, without any saving virtues or merits on whose basis we might make a claim based on Divine justice or equity. While all prayer contains an element of thrusting ourselves upon God’s mercy, it is particularly pronounced in Tahanun.

What are the contents of Tahanun? It is a strange mixture. On the one hand, the halakhah (for example, Rambam in Tefillah 5.13-15) describes this as a time for personal petitions (albeit this is also appropriate at the end of the Amidah, in Elohay Netzor). On the other hand, it is associated with the idea of simple declarations of self-abnegation, the nothingness and meaningless of our own selves, and total surrender and devotion to God.

The first motif is expressed in one of the strangest stories in the entire Talmud. Rabbi Eleazar, after he had been placed under the ban following the incident of the stove of Akhnai (BM 59b; see HY IV: Ki Tetze), was filled with anger against the other sages, and particularly against their leader, the Nasi Rabban Gamaliel II, who happened to be his brother-in-law. It was believed that Tahanun was a particularly powerful prayer and that anything one prayed for in Tahanun would be granted. R. Eleazar’s wife, Imma Shalom, feared that her husband would use this opportunity to pray for her brother’s death. As a devoted sister, she quite naturally tried to prevent him from ever saying this prayer (or, some say, not to recite it immediately after the Amidah, when it was most potent), and every day managed to distracted him—until one day a beggar came to the door, or she mistakenly thought it was Rosh Hodesh, he recited Tahanun, and within minutes the sound of the shofar was heard announcing the death of the Nasi.

In the Zohar and the mystical tradition, Tahanun is considered a very powerful prayer. The Bet Yosef on Tur OH §131 quotes Zohar, Bamidbar, to the effect that during sleep one is in the world of “the tree of death.” After awakening, one recites the order of Shema and statutory Prayer showing ones dedication to God; upon completing these, one recites Psalm 25, as if to say, “We are completely yours, O God,” almost as if one were thereby entering into this realm of “the Tree of Death.” Hence, Tahanun is not recited on festive days, nor at night.

Hasidim are notorious for using any possible rationale to avoid saying Tahanun—for example, the Yahrzeit, anniversary of the death, of a Hasidic Tzaddik. Why? Is it simply because they are carefree, “happy-clappy” types, or is it more complicated? I would suggest that they see the type of sin-preoccupied spirituality suggested by some of these interpretations of Tahanun as somehow unhealthy. Of course, they too are committed to Kiddush Hashem, to total commitment to God, as the ideal. But the type of self-abnegation that seems to come from a sense of the impossibility of achieving wholeness as a human being, something that is in a sense akin to Christian original sin, is not the way.

Tahanun: A Closer Formulation

I would like to add some comments to what I wrote for Parshat Vayetze about Tahanun. The question that I feel went unanswered there is: What is the central theological burden of Tahanun? The Tur (Orah Hayyim §131), as mentioned, sees Tahanun as being required to complete the daily round of three basic prayer postures: standing, sitting, and prostrating oneself (or at least hiding one’s face). I submit that these postures are not merely bodily positions or postures, but symbolize basic spiritual attitudes.

The seated posture generally customary for Keriat Shema and its blessings implies concentration, meditation, profound thought—a posture appropriate to Shema, which is conceived as an inner mental-emotional act, in which one reflects in depth on the idea of “Accepting the Kingship of Heaven.” It is not addressed to God in a dialogic way, but is recited about Him, in the third person. As against that, the standing posture of the Amidah signifies being in the presence of God. Such standing is a sign of respect, not of self-negation. To the contrary: a human being standing with his/her full stature denotes human dignity, being made in “in the image of God,” be-Tzelem Elohim. To quote the words of the Neilah prayer for Yom Kippur: “You have distinguished man from the beginning and taught him to stand before You.”

By contrast, prostration, whether whole or partial, such as in Tahanun, is indicative of self-abnegation, of awareness of ones creatureliness and finitude, ones smallness and insignificance, of ones mortality and fragility before the Infinite and the Eternal, Creator of Heaven and Earth.

On one level, one might simply say that these reflect different religious temperaments: what William James called “world-affirmation” vs. “world-denial”; or, in internal Jewish terms, the two schools within the Mussar movement, Slobodka and Navarhadok, that preached, respectively, man’s greatness and his smallness; or, as I noted in one of my Rambam essays before Rosh Hashanah (see HY V: Ki Tetzei), two divergent approaches to teshuvah and to life generally among the Sages. But in a deeper sense, these two latter postures complement one another: they represent two opposing sides of the same coin, reflecting the essential tension in human life: between our spiritual and our biological nature; our capacity for subtle, world-embracing thought, coupled with selfless acts of goodness and even holiness, as against our being trapped in the world of necessity and inchoate drives and needs. Freedom vs. determinism; spiritual consciousness and creativity vs. irrational and at times uncontrollable drives and instincts; partnership with God in tikkun ha-olam vs. mortality.

It is told that one of the renowned Hasidic leaders—some say it was Avraham Yehoshua Heshel of Apt, others Reb Simhah Bunem of Psyshcha—always carried two slips of paper in his pocket. One read “You have made him but little lower than the angels, and crowned him with glory and honor” [Ps 8:6], while the other read, “for you are dust, and to dust you shall return” [Gen 3:19]. One could well say that all of human experience swings, pendulum-like, between these two poles. Hence, given that Judaism teaches a holistic approach to life, embracing all experiences as the varied manifestations of God’s self-revelation within man, it is only fitting that our liturgy somehow encompass both of these as well.

Why then are there so many limitations and restrictions on the recital of Tahanun so that, unlike either Shema or the Amidah, it is not a part of the daily routine, but is the quintessential weekday prayer, confined to those days that are thoroughly nondescript and ordinary, totally vokhadikh or hullin (i.e., mundane)?

Two possible answers: that somehow, while acknowledging the existence of both sides of man, Judaism gives preference, “right of the firstborn,” so to speak, to the spiritual, majestic side of man. A human being needs no reminders of his biological being: every time his stomach growls with hunger; every time he must stop working or studying or playing because he needs sleep to renew his strength; every time he feels bodily pain; every time he feels a twinge of sexual desire; most of all, every time he is filled with fear related to contingencies, such as illness, poverty, and death—he knows full well that he is a creature within a body. But the spiritual aspect, the soul “entrapped” within the body, requires cultivation and growth. And these, among others, are taught by the order of Shema and Amidah. (Interestingly, even the petitionary prayers of the latter—i.e., the middle 13 blessings of the weekday Amidah—are largely concerned with spiritual and ethical matters, such as wisdom, repentance, the rebuilding of the Jewish nation and the renewal of the Sanhedrin and the Davidic monarchy, etc., and only minimally with actual material needs.)

Again, the Shabbat and festive days, of various kinds and levels, symbolize the majesty of man, the possibility for experiencing and attaining fullness, particularly of spiritual understanding and insight, within this life. As such, they are diametrically opposed to what might be called the “Tahanun” consciousness.

Second, Tahanun, which is more closely related to modes of depression, self-castigation, awareness of sin, is seen as potentially dangerous. Preoccupation with creatureliness, with the negative side of human potential, can at times come dangerously close to paralysis of action. Hence, on the symbolic level, nighttime, which is a time when human energy and vitality is lowered, a time for torpor and sleep that is symbolically seen as “a sixtieth part of death,” is as too dangerous for Tahanun; as if one were reinforcing the negative energies of night itself. Hasidism, which was in particularly concerned with the pitfalls of depression, sadness, and preoccupation with sin, reduced the recitation of Tahanun to minimum. Every time there is a Yahrzeit for a Rebbe, when the Hasid is focused on the legacy of the Zaddik, the person who during his life realized the Divine image within man to a particularly high degree, is an occasion for not saying Tahanun. In like fashion, some Hasidim, for whom Shabbat is the great day of unification of heaven and earth, see its light radiating even onto the morning of Friday, when preparation for the holy day begins in earnest, and delete Tahanun then as well.