Lech Lecha 5781: Why Pray?
I want to take you all back to one lonely night in November, 2004. It was the Presidential Election and the two candidates were George Bush (for a second term) and John Kerry. I was in high school, and in the height of my ”spiritual bender” days--studying the world’s religions and their esoteric and mystical practices, in desperation to feel connected to God at all times. I wasn’t so politically involved, but I knew which candidate I wanted to win, and I believed that the world’s existence depended on that candidate winning. The night of the election, I stayed up all night praying, learning Zohar, meditating, and trying to make an impact on our metaphysical reality which I thought, in turn, would impact the election. I was a chutzpadik kid, as is evident from what I wrote in my journal the night before, when I was organizing my plan for election night. I wrote, “I believe I am a warrior for peace, and that my prayers and actions Do (capital D) indeed make a difference.”
The election didn’t go the way I had been praying, and I remember thinking that perhaps I just hadn’t prayed hard enough, believed enough. Or, maybe if there had been more people praying and believing, it would have gone in my favor. This year, this election season, I noticed my resistance to praying for a particular outcome for the election. Scarred from my experience in 2004, I think deep down, for many of us, there is a question of why pray, when the Listener may not answer, or may not demonstrate listening in the way we would hope.
In our JLF class, Lizzie and I explored with our students quotes from multiple writers on the question, “Why do you write?” One writer, Francis Picabia, answered, “I don’t really know and I hope I never know.” Perhaps the answer to why pray, why pray anyway when things may or may not turn out the way we are hoping is this. I don’t know, and I hope I never know. Because to know would mean to end the mystery, the questioning, the wrestling that is so core to our tradition.
In this week’s Parsha, Lech Lecha, we meet our ancestor Avram, who is told by G!d to go--lech--lecha--to yourself, for yourself, from your native land and from your father’s house to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation, And I will bless you; I will make your name great, And you shall be a blessing. The Mei Hashiloach explains that, in addition to instructing Avram to leave his native land, he was also being instructed to look within himself for the answers. He explains that the “question in itself is enough of an answer.”
So, why pray? Why lech lecha--go within ourselves? I don’t know, and I hope I never find out. But, one thing I do know, is that by continuing to pray, to pour our souls out to G!d, we experience G!d’s promise to Avram. G!d doesn’t only say “I will bless you,” G!d says “and you will be a blessing.” Our very life, our day to day existence, will be a blessing through being in relationship to G!d. Through filling our mouths with prayer, through turning our attention to what is inherently good and beautiful in the world, and continuing to long for healing, justice, freedom, and peace, we bring blessing into our lives, we remember our resilience, and--regardless of what happens in the election--nobody can take that away from us.
Shabbat Shalom.
