The transcription discusses the power and significance of Tefillah, prayer, as a way to connect with Hashem, especially in times of crisis and vulnerability. It emphasizes the importance of using our unique gift of speech to communicate directly with Hashem, highlighting how prayer is essential in deepening our relationship with the Divine. The story of Bnei Yisrael at the Red Sea is used to illustrate the transformative nature of prayer and the importance of turning to Hashem in times of need. The text also explores the contrast between human ability to pray and the lack of connection seen in other creatures, emphasizing the privilege and closeness that prayer brings. The message conveyed is that through prayer, we can find strength, guidance, and connection with Hashem in all aspects of our lives.
Welcome back to Tefillah Today, just to recap, in our last episode we explored how Tefillah is a divine gift, a direct, open-minded Tashem that allows us to speak, connect, and elevate our lives. Today we go one level deeper, what gives Tefillah its power, especially when we can't see or feel Hashem directly. It's tzivyon, holy imagination, the kind that allows us to see with our soul, not our eyes. Let's pause and take a more in-depth look at this moment.
The pursuit at Qiriyat Yom Tzif, the Red Sea. The Nazarene had already left Bethlehem, they were physically free, but just as they began their encounter with freedom, Pau's army comes chasing after them. Now ask yourself, why? Hashem is the author of the Torah, every word, every detail, He chose to include in it. If the Torah was simply a record of events, it could have said, and Hashem could have made it happen, that Pau pursued, Hashem split the sea, Bnei Yisrael crossed, and then they sank.
But that's not how the Torah tells it, instead it zooms in, it slows down, it brings us into the moment, step by step, the fear, the pressure, the silence before the cry. O Yitzchaku Bnei Yisrael El Hashem, and Bnei Yisrael cried out to Hashem, Shemot 14, verse 10. This cry wasn't just desperation, it was the first national act of tefillah, the moment they stopped looking at Moshe, and looked up, in that cry a shift happened, they were no longer merely fleeing the triumph, Egypt, they were turning toward Hashem, as a nation, Kili Bnei Yisrael Avadim, for the children of Israel are my servants, whom I brought out of the land of Egypt.
Rashi explains, since I redeemed them, they are now mine. Hashem didn't just rescue them from something, He brought them into something, into a relationship, into a connection between Kili Bnei Yisrael and Hashem, Hashem and Kili Bnei Yisrael, and recognizing that, the nation recognizing that responsibility, turning it into avodah, sacred service, tefillah. And the Torah includes every detail of this scene, to immerse us, not just in history, but in meaning. This is not just what happened, this is how we become who we are, and while the story at the sea reveals the urgency of crisis, tefillah, the raw cry of help, is another level of relationship that emerges just after, the Az Yashir, the song of redemption.
That moment, when Bnei Yisrael sings to Hashem in joy and awe, we'll explore in a future episode, because first we must understand what it means to cry, before we fully understand what it means to sing. And here is where we encounter something deeper, Hashem, Rachamim, Erochim, Gen, Hashem Erochim, in His mercy, conveys through this episode, that He understands the human condition. He knows what fear and uncertainty do to us, and He knows what prompts us, and this is Hashem's chesed, He doesn't demand perfection, He meets us in our panic.
He built into creation this spiritual instinct, that when life becomes unbearable, we turn to Hashem. When there is tension, our neshama, our soul, knows the way home, and that path, the one our soul instinctively reaches for, is tefillah. It's a secret response embedded deep within us, to call out, to connect, to return to Hashem, who is waiting with mercy and understanding. And this is why this matters, because tefillah is the moment where we connect face to face with our vulnerability, yet we choose faith.
It's not in our strength that makes us holy, it's in our turning, our cry, our decision to speak to Hashem, even when all we see in front of us is the sea, that we have to cross, that doesn't seem crossable. And the fear, tefillah then, is the birthplace of Jewish freedom, then, not because Hashem needed our prayers, but because we needed to discover that we could pray, that we could choose trust over terror, covenant over chaos.
At the edge of the sea, b'nai Yisrael didn't just walk into freedom, they stepped into a relationship, vulnerability, giving in, surrendering with their voices, with their breath, with their hearts, and then with their bodies. This is the Torah's message. Tefillah then, doesn't begin with the kuias yamsef, with the sea splitting, it begins with a cry, that's tefillah, and that's what makes us b'nai Yisrael. Now tefillah is a mindful and emotional muscle we develop throughout our journey of t'veikast by Hashem.
As Hashem's chosen people, as an Am Kodesh, a holy nation, we are His emissaries on this earth. Through tefillah we elevate our physical lives to the spiritual plane, that's avodah, sacred service, the quiet work of the heart. Each tefillah is a moment of return, a reconnection, a chance to live with intention in the presence of the Divine, of the Shevina. The message is that in our times of struggle we too can reach out to Hashem. There's so much to expound on here, but simply knowing the story, its meaning and its relevance is an essential part of understanding tefillah.
What are the parrows in your life? Would obstacles or pressures push you to turn to Hashem in your prayer? When life feels insurmountable, like standing before the sea with nowhere to go, can you bring yourself to cry out to Hashem? Now let's consider the incredible gift of speech itself, a gift Hashem gave us that sets us apart from all other creation. Adam was created with Hashem's own bread, v'yipach b'apav nishmas chayim, and Talcum Onkelos explains this as ruach m'malala, the power of speech.
That speech was not a response to sin, it was part of humanity's original design, the capacity to think, to ask, to speak to Hashem. And here's where we find a striking contrast. Imagine, if we didn't have this gift, the ability to speak directly to Hashem, think of an animal, like a dog, a monkey, or a cat, it can express basic needs, but it can't communicate with words, it can only motion to its owner, hoping to be understood.
We however were given the strength of speech directly from Hashem, Himself. And veraciously said, Hashem breathes into his nostrils the breath of life, and Onkelos translates this as ruach m'malala, the spirit of speech. Hashem gave us this unique ability to articulate, to ask, to express ourselves fully. This gift of speech allows us to communicate with Hashem, to bring our needs, our gratitude and our thoughts directly to Him. This is the meaning of ha-ko-kol Yaakov. The voice is the voice of Yaakov, in veracious chapter 27, verse 22.
Teseelah is our voice, the way we affect the world, not with swords like Asa, but with Teseelah, with prayer, with words, with heart. It's part of our very being, embedded in the breath Hashem gave us. Rabbi Yaakov Weingarten in his Seder, Ofer Seder HaShalem, points out this striking contrast. The snake after the sin with Adam and Havel was cursed, thus shall you eat all the days of your life. It sounds like a convenience, never lacking food, but it's actually a deep punishment.
We've all learned this, that Hashem was saying, take what you need, but I want no connection with you. In contrast, our neediness draws us closer. Our vulnerability invites connection. Unlike the snake, we are invited to seek closeness with Hashem, to approach, to speak, to be heard. This is the heart of Teseelah, the privilege to connect, to hear Hashem's presence and to know He is listening. Adam's punishment after the sin wasn't to be cut off like the snake.
It's a stark contrast. It's the polar opposite. Instead, it placed him into a new condition. His punishment was a life of effort and dependence. By sweat of your brow, you shall eat bread, chapter 3, verse 19. Adam now needed rain, needed success, needed sustenance, none of which were guaranteed. And this vulnerability is what would prompt him to pray. Ezra teaches us in Bracius, chapter 2, verse 5, because there was no man to work the land, and Rashi explains there was no one to recognize the goodness of the rain and dive in for it.
To feel it became the natural response to human need, the catalyst to drive nature to respond to the earth's potential. Unlike the snake, Adam would now live in an ongoing relationship with Hashem. B'zeh s'pecha would require a relationship with Hashem through the voice Hashem Himself breathed into him. So, the next time you face a personal challenge, pause and remember this story. Just as Hashem splits His feet for the Name of Israel, He can help us through whatever challenge we face.
We're never alone. Hashem is always there, ready to listen, waiting to guide us through.
