Pinhas (Hasidism)

The Baal Shem Tov on Prayer

We shall now continue the discussion, begun last week, of the Baal Shem Tov’s teaching on prayer. This week’s portion also has a special connection to prayer: the fixed daily sacrifice described in Num 28:1-8, offered twice every day, corresponds to the cycle of daily prayers.

We will begin with some commentary on the teaching with which we opened last week, from Amud ha-Tefillah §31, in which the Baal Shem Tov emphasizes that one must not engage even in casual, passing conversation or greetings with one’s fellow before praying in the morning.

This idea is rooted in a mystical conception of the power of the “first word”; indeed, he offers a series of examples of things which follow from the “first,” which function as a kind of “branch” of the source. This notion is ultimately a kind of offshoot of the basic religious idea that all things draw their vitality from God, the ultimate First. But beyond mystical conceptions, this idea bears a great deal of psychological truth. We are all familiar with the importance of first impressions, of people, of places, even of ideas. With rare exceptions, the first encounter more often than not seems to fix the essence of a relationship; what develops later, even over the course of many years, is often seen to be contained therein in germinal form. Similarly, the hour of prayer at the beginning of the morning embodies the root, the source, of the vitality of each day. Hence, it is important that this opening energy not be dissipated by other activities before prayer.

This relates to the assumption that prayer is a very serious business, demanding intense concentration. A haphazard, casual approach, of the sort seen in so many synagogues—in which people come into shul, wander around, chat with one another, put money in the pushke (alms box), perhaps straighten things, etc.—all mitigate against the power to be gained from this single-minded focus.

His strict statement on this throws a somewhat different light on the image of the Baal Shem Tov. A widespread image of Hasidism in general, and of the Baal Shem Tov in particular, is of something and someone informal, loose, non-fanatical, embodying before all else warm, loving, human values, and a gaiety expressed in constant singing and dancing. While this reflects a certain truth, the Baal Shem Tov also had a very strict, demanding side—one that called for single-minded, passionate focus as a prerequisite of prayer. While his teaching also contains much advice about how to cope with the inevitable human weaknesses—of distraction, alien thoughts, “smallness of mind,” sadness, etc.—this is against the background of an assumed ideal of intense, passionate, all-engrossing prayer, which does not just happen by itself, but requires concentration, preparation, etc. It is in the light of all this that we can understand the fact that he did not allow stretching the time for prayer indefinitely, as did some later Hasidic teachers, but insisted upon praying in the early morning—ideally, completing most of the prayer before the sun’s rays had even hit the earth (Amud ha-Tefillah §39).

Incidentally, it should be mentioned that the Besht’s position on this question of greeting others was far stricter than the Talmudic ruling (Berakhot 14a), which states that one may greet one’s fellow before praying in the morning, so long as one does not actually call on him in his home before davening.

In the next passage, the Besht discusses the varying ones in which one may prepare for prayer, varying not only among individuals, but even at different times in the same person. §35:

I heard from my teacher, of blessed memory, that at times one needs to strengthen oneself before prayer, so that he may have the proper mindset to pray, at very least without alien thoughts, or with attachment to God (devekut). And this is done by first engaging in psalms or Torah, and by means of this he stands up to pray through words of Torah, which involve mental content. But it may happen, if he says too many psalms or learns too much Torah before praying, he won’t have the mind for praying. And this is what they [the Rabbis] said: “It matters not whether one does much or little, but only that he direct his heart for the sake of Heaven” [Menahot 110a]—that is, so that he may have the mindset for prayer. For that reason they are equal… (quoted from Toldot Ya’akov Yosef, Tazria 92a)

At times one needs to prepare for prayer by reciting Psalms, which create a devotional mood, or by some form of Torah study, presumably one which directs one’s mind to spiritual matters. (It is interesting that Pesukei de-Zimra, which at one point may have served the function of preparation for prayer, has by now become a statutory part of the liturgy, which in turn requires proper preparation.) Some Hasidim study Hasidic texts before davening, at least on Shabbat morning. Habad, which has a particular developed intellectual system, much of which focuses on the nature of prayer and particularly Shema (see, for example, HY IV: Vayakhel), institutionalized such study as a kind of meditations prior to prayer. In Habad yeshivot study of Hasidut, whether by individuals or in formal classes, is a regular part of the curriculum on weekdays, specifically before prayer.

Interestingly, the Talmud, in the section concerned with kavvanah for prayer (Berakhot 30b-31b), discusses the ambivalent nature of study before prayer. There is a very real danger that, if one engages in intense intellectual activity before prayer, such as deep halakhic study, one may so preoccupied with the various analytical and textual problems involved that one won’t be able to properly focus upon prayer at all! Hen ce, it concludes, one should engage only in easy, straightforward material (halakhah pesukah). It seems to me that there is much psychological truth to this.

Hasidism was likewise concerned with the conflict between the mental faculties required for study and those required for prayer or, more generally, for constant God consciousness: if one is focused upon “cracking” a difficult text, one cannot meditate upon God’s oneness, on His presence in nature, etc. (J. G. Weiss has an important article on this problem in his Studies in Eastern European Mysticism.) The next text also deals with the dilemma of how to strike the right balance between the need for adequate preparation for prayer, and overdoing it to the extent that one is exhausted by the time one begins prayer. (In our day, our patience is so limited, that there are those who feel that Pesukei de-Zimra, certainly in the long form recited Shabbat mornings, is already too much, and if taken seriously, leaves one spiritually tired by the time one reaches the central part of the liturgy.) Amud ha-Tefillah, §36:

He should not recite numerous psalms before prayer, so as not to weaken his body, for if so he will thereafter be unable to say the main thing: that is, the daily obligation of the hymns [i.e., of Pesukei de-Zimra], the reading of Shema, and the Prayer, with great attachment. For he has used up his strength before prayer in other things. Rather, he should first say the main part with devekut, and if thereafter God gives him more strength he may say Psalms and Song of Songs with devekut. Similarly, on Yom Kippur before Ne’ilah [the Concluding Prayer], he should say the [hymns in the] Mahzor in a state of “smallness,” so that thereafter he may pray with great attachment.

The central concept here is devekut, the sine-qua-non of Hasidic prayer. It is difficult to define it sharply, as it may be expressed in different ways among different people, or even by the same person on different occasions: it may be expressed in violent shaking and shouting, or through quiet, rapt, peaceful meditation. The worshipper may say each word slowly, thoughtfully, savoring its infinite sweetness, taking long hours to pray, or he may race through the prayer, with a fiery intensity of love. In essence, devekut is a relational term: “attachment” or “cleaving” to God. To pray in a state of deep relationship to God: all else is unimportant. (In this respect, too, the sexual metaphor is quite apt: the act of making love may be quite different in mood, speed, texture, from couple to couple and from time to time, but it is always in its essence the same; so too here.)

The reference to Song of Songs is interesting. It would seem from this that there were Jews who would recite Shir ha-Shirim as a devotional act, before or after weekday prayer. Presumably, this was because it was the great poem celebrating love of the Godhead, or as the repository of the deepest secrets of Torah.

On Prayers and Sacrificial Offerings

Parshat Pinhas also bears a special connection to prayer: the daily and other sacrificial offerings described there correspond to the daily prayers, or perhaps better, vice versa. The ramifications of this idea are expressed with particular clarity in Sefat Emet, 5658, s.v. Tzav et B’nai Yisrael:

“Command the children of Israel” [Num 28:2]. Until you command Me concerning My children, command My children concerning Me [Sifrei]. For it is written, “a constant burnt offering made on Mount Sinai” [v. 6]. For at the giving of the Torah the world was corrected, and the children of Israel were given a new manner of behavior, according to the way of the Torah. And the Israelites had first said “we shall do” and only thereafter “we shall hear” [Exod 24:7], and this was the correction performed at Mount Sinai.

Our author is puzzled by the implication of verse 6, which suggests an organic connection between what happened at Sinai and the daily sacrificial offerings. His answer, to which we shall return a bit later, is a mystical one: that both Sinai and the Tamid are in some sense a “correction,” a tikkun, for the relation between action and hearing, that was distorted early on.

What is the nature of the connection between Sinai and the daily offering? A close reading of the relevant passages reveals some interesting things. First, the Sanctuary in the Desert was built as a dwelling place for the Divine Glory, just as it rested on Sinai during the Revelation; a comparison of the wording of Exod 24:15-18 with 40:34-38 reveals this in a striking way. Moreover, in an earlier mention of the Tamid offering, in Exod 29:38-46, two motifs are stressed: first, that God’s dwelling among the Israelites, which was the very purpose of the Exodus, is expressed through the making of the Sanctuary in general, and through the sacrifice, which is described as “that which is done upon the altar” (v. 38), in particular. Second, the altar itself is described as being “opposite / facing the entrance to the Tent of Meeting before the Lord, where I shall make Myself known to you, to speak with you there” (v. 42). That is, the two focii of the Sanctuary/Temple—the Inner Sanctuary or Tent of Meeting, and the altar—are intimately linked with one another, symbolized in their physical alignment. The one is the locus for the presence of the Shekhinah, which is in turn a reminder of or link with Sinai, as well as site of ongoing communication with His prophet; the other, that of man’s ongoing service of Him, through sacrifice.

And every day one needs to remember the giving of the Torah through speech and action. But now our prayers have been instituted in place of the daily offerings, for that is also something that entails action, that is, the moving of one’s lips, which is considered an act. And the Reading of Shema is the aspect of “we shall hear”: “Hear O Israel”; and Prayer is the aspect of “we shall do.” And at the time of the Temple this existed in actuality, that by means of the sacrifice they drew close and were attached to the supernal root. And the aspect of Moses our Teacher signified Torah from heaven, that is, the Israelites drawing close to Above by means of the power of awakening from above. And the sacrifices were the act of drawing close by means of an awakening from below. But after the Sin of the Calf action was corrupted, but there nevertheless remained always the power of the Ten Commandments. And this is, “a constant burnt offering, made [at Mount Sinai]”—that is, that power which was not damaged by sin.

Although Sinai involved a “correction” of the relationship between doing and hearing, it did not hold good for long; after the sin of the golden calf, action was “corrupted,” and it was necessary to return to the old order in which hearing preceding doing, as symbolized by the order of prayer: first Keriat Shema, the “hearing” of words of Torah (albeit one that is also a proclamation), and only thereafter Prayer (=sacrificial service), which corresponds to action—i.e., actual divine service.

What is meant by “doing” and “hearing” becoming corrupted? I would like to venture the following somewhat tentative interpretation. It seems to me that “hearing” corresponds to itaruta dil’ela, “arousal from above”—that is, waiting upon the divine word, receiving the divine influx, without any action on man’s part. “Acting” corresponds to “arousal from below,” itaruta dil’tata—human initiative, the awakening of the religious impulse within the human soul, leading him/her spontaneously to holy action. (These two motifs are played off against one another in almost every Torah of the Sefat Emet, under various names: they underlie the contrast between Torah from Heaven/Written Torah and Oral Torah, Shabbat and weekday, etc.) The idea of “we shall do and we shall hear” implies that human initiative, coming from a holy place within man, ought to take primacy of place; like Abraham in the midrash ”whose two kidneys became two fonts of wisdom.” Divine grace and wisdom, obedience to the Torah as an external entity, only comes thereafter.

But the two great sins of biblical history—that of Adam and Eve in the Garden, and that of the Israelites in making the Golden Calf—were essentially sins of “commission,” of spontaneous action in which the impulses that guided man came from a less-than-holy place inside him. In other words, the order of “we shall do and we shall hear,” proved to be faulty. Men were not, in their inner souls, at a high enough, a pure enough, an ethical enough place, to spontaneously do good of their own accord. In modern terms, human autonomy as the ultimate source of values and of correct action did not work; hence Sinai, the revelation of the heteronomous Torah, was needed to “correct” the relation of “doing” and “hearing.” The present state of things, in which hearing precedes action, is thus a “correction” of the “correction.” Nevertheless, there is still action, even actin as “arousal from below”: sacrifices , or prayer, are not merely rote forms, but intended as an expression of man’s innerness, his love and fear of God.

But there are times when those powers and lights that had been lost because of the Sin are revealed, namely, in the additional offerings of Shabbat and festival days, of which it is written, “above and beyond the regular offering” [ibid, v. 10]. For these same lights are only revealed to the world at special times.

For that reason, the various Musaf prayers are seen as enjoying a special spiritual level, as somehow “reaching higher” than the ordinary weekday prayers, and even higher than the other prayers of the Shabbat or festival itself.

And now, because of our great sins, the regular offering has been abolished, and that behavior which had been fixed among the Israelites for generations was changed after the Destruction. And it is only by means of prayer that this light is aroused every day. And one precedes Shema to Prayer, as my grandfather said, because the doing has been spoiled—that is, the saying of “we shall do” before “we shall listen.” But now, by means of listening, we merit to correct the deed; and see what he wrote there. And our Rabbis said: The prayers were instituted by the patriarchs, and corresponding to the regular sacrifices. And it is all one thing, for the patriarchs drew near by power of their deeds, and this was indeed the placing of “we shall do” before the receiving of the Torah. But now they merit to correct the doing by virtue of the Torah. And this is through Shema and Prayer every day.