Why Keep Davening?

By Rabbi Moshe Krieger, Yeshivas Bircas HaTorah (www.bircas.org)

In this week’s parsha, the Torah describes Yitzchak and Rivkah as married but still without children. They both davened with great intensity. The Torah says, “Va’yei’aser lo Hashem”—Hashem listened to his tefillah (Bereishis 25:21). Rashi explains that this means Hashem listened specifically to his tefillah and not to hers, because Yitzchak was a tzaddik ben tzaddik, while Rivkah was a tzaddekes who was the daughter of a rasha. Yet earlier Rashi praises Rivkah’s background, that she remained pure and straight in a house full of resha’im. If so, why was Yitzchak’s tefillah accepted more than hers?

The Saba mi’Kelm explains that tzaddik ben tzaddik here is not only a description of good family lineage; it also teaches us something deeper. Yitzchak had a strong spiritual inheritance. He was the son of Avraham Avinu and could have simply relied on his father’s derech and coasted along that path. Yet he did not suffice with that. Even within the good derech he received, he worked to find his own unique way of coming closer to Hashem. He searched for new hisorerus (renewed inspiration) in tefillah and avodah, new feelings and new thoughts, so that his connection to Hashem would not become routine. Rivkah, on the other hand, grew up in a house of resha’im; for her, everything in avodas Hashem was new, and she naturally had to build her own path, so she did not face the same danger of “just continuing the old way.” Yitzchak’s extra effort to renew his hisorerus on a path that was already good instead of just relying on what he received shows the special level of a tzaddik ben tzaddik and why his tefillos were so precious.

One example of Yitzchak’s hisorerus in tefillah is seen in this posuk: “lenochach ishto”—he stood opposite his wife and davened (Bereishis 25:21). The Radak (Melachim I, 2:4) explains that Yitzchak placed Rivkah in front of him so that his heart would be moved more deeply. He did not want his tefillah to remain dry words; he wanted to feel what she was going through. From here we learn a simple and powerful eitza (advice) in tefillah: put the need in front of you. If you are davening for someone who is sick or struggling, visit him if you can. If that is not possible, picture his situation clearly and allow your heart to feel it. The Shelah HaKadosh (Maseches Tamid, Amud HaTefillah) writes that even when a person davens for himself and he is healthy and his parnassah is in order, he should still awaken his heart by thinking of and picturing in his mind people he knows and the difficulties they are going through. Then think how Hashem constantly sustains him. This awakens new hisorerus. It is just one example; there are many other ways to awaken hisorerus, and we should always think about how to stir our hearts.

There is a basic question on Yitzchak’s tefillah: Why did he need to daven so strongly when Hashem had already promised Avraham, “ki beYitzchak yikare lecha zera” (Bereishis 21:12) that the future of Klal Yisrael would come through Yitzchak?

The Mashgiach Rabbi Aryeh Finkel explains that even when something is already “meant” to happen, Hashem wants it to come into the world through tefillah. He created the world in such a way that blessing waits, as it were, just beneath the surface until a person turns to Him and davens. Even though Yitzchak was meant to have a child, he still had to daven for him. The Torah teaches this principle with the first rain: “No plant of the field had yet grown… for Hashem had not sent rain, and there was no man to work the ground” (Bereishis 2:5). Chazal add (Chullin 60b) that the plants were standing just beneath the surface, waiting for man’s tefillah. Only when man turned to Hashem and requested that, in His rachamim (mercy), Hashem send rain did the plants begin to grow. So we see that even things that are “supposed” to happen still require tefillah.

This is not an accident; it is the way Hashem designed the world. Rashi at the very beginning of the Torah (Bereishis 1:1) explains that at first Hashem “wanted” din (strict justice), but He saw that the world could not stand that way, so He “added” rachamim. The mashgiach explains that the world is originally set up with din, and that Hashem added rachamim—but not on its own. We have to be the ones to awaken that rachamim through our tefillos. Hashem gives us the opportunity to draw down His rachamim by davening for it. Even when something has already been promised, we still need to daven for it so that we can awaken Hashem’s rachamim.*

Hashem could have made His rachamim come automatically. Instead, He built the world on din and wants us to awaken rachamim through tefillah. Hashem set it up exactly this way: through our tefillos, when we ask Him for rachamim, we are creating and deepening a relationship with Him. When a person turns to Hashem and says, “Abba, I need You,” he feels that closeness, like a child with a loving father. Chazal speak about this as well (Yevamos 64a). They state that the Imahos (our matriarchs) were made akaros (unable to have children easily) so that they would daven and draw closer to Hashem. By needing to daven more, the relationship becomes stronger and deeper; without that need, their relationship with Hashem would not have reached the same depth—and we learn from them how tefillah deepens our own connection to Hashem. The more we daven, the stronger the kesher will be.

The Kuzari explains that each tefillah creates another link in the chain of our kesher with Hashem. We daven in the morning and that connection carries us until the next tefillah. Hashem set it up this way so that we are constantly renewing our relationship with Him and carrying that awareness with us throughout the day. The main goal is the kesher with Hashem throughout the entire day—to feel that He is with us and holding our hand wherever we go.

Rabbi Aharon Cohen, despite his physical weakness and illness later in life, showed through his tefillah the depth of his relationship with Hashem. Every time he davened, you could see that he was pouring his whole heart and soul into it, as if all his strength was channeled into that moment of connecting with HaKadosh Baruch Hu. He would literally lift himself up on his toes, reaching his hands upward, as if to say, “Hashem, I want to come closer to You.”

Tefillah was so central to his life that he even went to learn from the Rebbe of Shomer Emunim to deepen that passion. And as Rav Michel Lefkowitz said, just seeing him daven was enough to give anyone chizuk in their own tefillah.

May we be zocheh to feel our kesher with Hashem growing stronger with every tefillah.