Prayer Requires Strength

In ancient times, the Israelites believed that offering sacrifices of animals brought them closer to God. This is the origin of the Hebrew word for sacrifice. Korban means to draw near. Once the Temple was destroyed by the Romans in 70 CE we stopped slaughtering animals on the sacrificial altar. In their place we instead made our prayers our sacrifices.

But prayer lacks physicality. We do not lay our hands on animals’ heads or sprinkle its blood on the altar. We do not search our herd to find a cow without blemish (or for that matter have a herd). We do not offer something of tangible value to our God. Instead we offer words. How can words approach the power of yesterday’s sacrifices?

Words appear fleeting. They are part and parcel of our everyday. They are tossed around casually. They are cheapened and coarsened in today’s world. Our tradition sees them instead as precious heirlooms. The prayerbook’s words matter. We are taught to focus on its phrases. While they may not appear as tangible as the animal sacrifices of old, they are what we offer. We grasp the prayerbooks in our hands and offer blessings and prayers.

Lea Goldberg, the great Israeli poet, writes:

Teach me, O God, a blessing, a prayer
on the mystery of a withered leaf,
on ripened fruit so fair,
on the freedom to see, to sense,
to breathe, to know, to hope, to despair.

Teach my lips, a blessing, a hymn of praise,
as each morning and night
You renew Your days,
lest my day be today as the one before;
lest routine set my ways.

Words only appear effortless. Prayers require tangible strength.