The Poetry of Prayer
Ideas to help us appreciate the poetry in our prayers — and everywhere else.
The following essay is from my forthcoming book, The Song of Songs: The Words of a Forsaken Lover to Her Beloved. A New Translation with Rabbi Ovadia Sforno’s Commentary.
The concepts presented in this essay may help you learn to appreciate the poetry in the words of the prohpets.
The Poetry of Prayer
Over twenty-five years ago, when I was learning in the Kollel at Ner Israel in Baltimore, Rav Aharon Feldman became the Rosh HaYeshiva. In one of his earliest talks, he shared some insight on how to pray. He said, if my memory serves,
“I know of no other way to prepare for davening than saying the words of pesukei dezimra (the psalms that introduce the morning prayers) with feeling. And when you say the words of the Shema (Hear Israel), you can feel as if you’re listening to your favorite symphony.”
I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. And not because I didn’t appreciate symphonies, I got into Beethoven in my teens (I’m an old soul). But because it made no sense to me at all. How did saying the psalms help a person prepare to pray? And what in the world did it mean for saying Shema to feel like hearing your favorite symphony?
This brief essay is my attempt to answer these questions that I’ve been contemplating for the past quarter century. I’ll share my path for learning to appreciate the poetry of our prayers. Perhaps you’ll find it helpful for you too. My hope is this will also deepen your appreciation for the poetry in the writings of the prophets.
Reading with Feeling
For me, reciting with feeling consists of a slower pace and meaningful pronunciation. Of course, you need to know what the psalms mean. If you’re currently saying your tefilla in Hebrew and don’t know the meaning, I suggest picking a part to say in English and develop your Hebrew skills enough to understand exactly what each word means. For me, this has taken years. But that’s fine. We have tefilla three times a day, so any little investment makes the next day’s tefilla a little more meaningful.
To illustrate pace, I invite you to read the following. It is perhaps one of the most frequently mumbled parts of our siddur, probably because it comes at the end. Take out a stopwatch and time yourself reading this out loud at your normal pace.
It is our duty to praise the Master of all, to ascribe greatness to the Author of creation, who has not made us like the nations of the lands nor placed us like the families of the earth; who has not made our portion like theirs, nor our destiny like all their multitudes. For they worship vanity and emptiness, and pray to a god who cannot save. But we bow in worship and give thanks unto the Supreme King of kings, the Holy One, Blessed be He, who extends the heavens and establishes the earth, whose throne of glory is in the heavens above, and whose power's Presence is in the highest of heights. He is our God; there is no other. Truly He is our King, there is none else, as it is written in His Torah: "You shall know and take to heart this day that the Lord is God, in the heavens above and on earth below. There is no other.
How long did it take you to read Aleinu? For me, it was about 40 seconds. There are 13 lines, so about 3 seconds per line. Once you’ve figured out how long it took you to read one line, let’s continue with this exercise.
Now, I’d like you to read it again. This time, I’ve changed the formatting to convey meaning. Try to read each line at the same speed as you did on the first read. For me, I’ll try to target about 3 seconds per line. We’ll just go through the first few lines to illustrate this point. Read the following out loud:
It is our duty
To praise the Master of all,
To ascribe greatness to the Author of creation,
Who has not made us like the nations of the lands
Nor placed us like the families of the earth;
Who has not made our portion like theirs,
Nor our destiny like all their multitudes.
For they worship vanity and emptiness,
And pray to a god who cannot save.
But we bow in worship
And give thanks unto the Supreme King of kings,
The Holy One, Blessed be He,
Who extends the heavens
And establishes the earth,
Whose throne of glory is in the heavens above,
And whose power's Presence
Is in the highest of heights.
Notice the difference? Simply slowing down the pace allows you to notice the meaning of the words. Perhaps some of the words struck you with new meaning that you hadn’t noticed before. If not, don’t worry, there’s still step two: meaningful pronunciation.
Here's a quick exercise to demonstrate the importance of pronunciation. Try reading the following in a monotone:
“I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I have a dream today.”
I think it’s clear that you can’t separate the content of the words with the way that they are said. Now, I’m not trying to suggest that your read your tefilla as if you’re Dr. King giving a speech on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in the summer of 1963. That would be absurd. But you should read your tefilla, out loud, with emphasis. With time and practice, you’ll find your own way of saying the words so they make an imprint on your soul.
Photo by Arjanne Holsappel.
By slowing down and reading with feeling, you’ll be able to affect your emotional state so your heart is open and will desire to pray to God. I could give you specific examples of how this approach has moved me, but that’s all I’d be sharing: how the psalms have moved me. The goal here is for you to experience this on your own and find your own favorite words. For you to recite יהיה כבוד and fall into the meaning of what this collection of verses speaks to your soul. Or be surprised at the beauty of the blessings surrounding the Shema.
Spiritual Alchemy
The next part of Rabbi Feldman’s advice touches on something I like to call spiritual alchemy. This is when you take an emotion that you are familiar with and apply it to a spiritual experience, or vice versa. To me, this is the purpose of the metaphors that are employed in Psalms. To illustrate this concept and talk a little bit about how to start using this yourself, let’s consider Psalm 19.
For the leader. A psalm of David.
The heavens declare the glory of God,
the sky proclaims His handiwork.
Day to day makes utterance,
night to night speaks out.
There is no utterance,
there are no words,
whose sound goes unheard.
Their voice carries throughout the earth,
their words to the end of the world.
He placed in them a tent for the sun,
who is like a groom coming forth from the wedding canopy,
Like a hero, eager to run his course.
His rising-place is at one end of heaven,
and his circuit reaches the other;
nothing escapes his heat.
At this point, King David has compared the sun to a groom leaving the wedding canopy or a hero at the start of his race. Next time you’re at a wedding, notice the groom and you’ll, hopefully, see a young man who is as radiant as the sun rising.
Take a moment and think back to a time you watched the sun rise. Close your eyes and try to recall how it looked to see the first tip of light come over the horizon. What did you hear that early morning? Can you recall what the air smelled like? Let that moment fill you. At this moment, you’re probably considering the grandeur of God’s creation, how the heavens declare His glory and without saying anything at all they say so much.
Now let’s consider the next verse:
The Torah (teaching) of God is perfect,
renewing life;
the decrees of the God are enduring,
making the simple wise.
Perhaps this transition from contemplating God’s creation to God’s Torah (teaching) is a little jarring. But King David’s message is clear: we’re supposed to transition the feeling we have at seeing the sun rise to the feeling we have when we contemplate the Torah. We’re taking something that is easily accessible, the feeling of watching the sun rise, to something that is more spiritual, contemplating the perfection of God’s Torah.
At this point, you might be thinking, well Jeff, that’s a nice idea. But I don’t know how to do that? How do I take that feeling of watching the sun rise and apply it to the Torah?
To answer, I’d encourage you to not ask how, instead, just notice and admire the metaphor. As you pause and think about it, ask yourself why King David would compare the sun rising to the Torah. Then explore the ideas you come up with. Get comfortable not knowing what the answer might be, just trust that there is one.
Once you’ve asked yourself why the sun rising is like the Torah, see if you have any potential answers. Explore your ideas. The ideas that you come up with on your own will be much more meaningful than reading what someone else’s explanation.
The next step is to keep going. Embrace any answers and insights you gained. And if you didn’t find any, that’s okay too. Appreciate the new question you identified and look forward to being blessed with insights in the future. And sometimes, King David explains the metaphor more fully later in the Psalm.
This process of notice, ask why, explore your ideas, then keep going is something you can repeat over and over for each metaphor you encounter. For many of us, this is a totally different way of learning. We’re used to seeking questions and getting answers right away. For many texts, the goal is to understand. When we’re praying or learning the writings of the prophets, the goal isn’t to just understand, it’s to experience. We must adjust our expectations and our learning process to enjoy spending time with the beauty of the text. It’s the path of taking the feeling of something you know and transitioning it to something yet to be experienced.
These two steps, reading with feeling and spiritual alchemy, as you’ve probably noticed, are just one process. As you slow down and pronounce the words carefully, you’ll better notice the metaphor. The more the metaphor starts to speak to you, the easier it will be to slow down. Ideally, this virtuous cycle will set you on a path of continued growth, finding new vistas, renewing your faith daily.