Hannah: Teach Us to Pray

“Hannah: Teach Us to Pray”

September 13, 2015 – Erev Rosh Hashanah

Have you ever thought why all of the Jewish holidays including Rosh Hashanah begin in the evening? Consider the very first words of the Torah:

When God began to create heaven and earth – the earth being unformed and void, with darkness over the surface of the deep and a wind from God sweeping over the water – God said, “Let there be light”; and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness He called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, a first day.

There you have it! If you have any background in the way in which Judaism works you will recognize that the rabbis of old were notoriously close readers of scripture. The Torah begins by stating, “there was evening, and there was morning, a first day.” Thus the twenty-four hour period we know as “one day” will always commence with the evening rather than with what might have made more sense, at sunrise or the break of dawn.

Interestingly enough there is a compelling message that we can take from this assumption. If a new day actually begins with the first sighting of the moon and the stars in the sky then we can equally consider that in Judaism to be new means to be ripe with potential. Just as each month and each year for that matter begins with the glimpse of a new and yet to be formed moon so too are we in a sense given the possibility to create our lives anew each and every year, that is, if we have the courage, the temerity and the determination to do so. That is what this time of year is really all about and that is the process we set into motion on this – the very first evening of a New Year. Which leads us to the following all-important question. What are we looking to accomplish at this time of year in the next few days?

To answer this question we need to look at the literature that our sages selected for us from the pages of the Torah. And a good place for us to start might be to take a close look at one of the stories that we read in our Machzor, namely the story of Hannah that we will listen to tomorrow morning during the reading of the Haftorah.

You remember the tale, perhaps? A man named Elkanah has two wives. One is named Hannah and the other Peninah. We are told that Peninah has children while Hannah does not. We also learn that not only is Hannah childless, she also receives a smaller portion from her husband whenever he would bring a sacrifice to the Priest because she is without children. And even though Hannah remains Elkanah’s favorite, as our Haftorah puts it, Adonai has closed her womb. To make matters even worse for Hannah, the other wife Peninah is unkind to her. She taunts her because she has children and Hannah, her natural rival has none.

Hannah’s life then is filled with misery. She weeps incessantly and cannot bring herself to eat. Furthermore her husband Elkanah fails to comprehend what might be troubling her. He often wonders aloud at Hannah’s despair trying to comfort her with words such as, “Hannah, why are you crying and why aren’t you eating? Why are you so sad? Am I not more devoted to you than ten sons?” In other words he completely misses the point. He is clueless as to why Hannah is suffering.

And that sort of thing seems to happen to Hannah all the time. For example, the High Priest Eli also misunderstands Hannah. In an effort to quiet her despair she would visit the Temple, pray to Adonai, her face damp with tears. She would say, “O Adonai, if You will look upon the suffering of your maidservant and you will remember me and not forget Your maidservant, and if you will grant me a male child, I will dedicate him to you all the days of his life.”

So intensely would she pray that her lips would move but her voice remains silent and this is where Eli also misses the marks. He takes one look at her and immediately jumps to the conclusion that she must be intoxicated. He exclaims, “How long will you make a drunken spectacle of yourself? Sober up!”

But like her husband Elkanah he too is mistaken and she politely tells him so. “Oh no, my lord! I am a very unhappy woman. I have drunk no wine or other strong drink, but I have been pouring out my heart to Adonai. Do not take your maidservant for a worthless woman; I have only been speaking all this time out of my great anguish and distress.”

Finally Eli understands her plight and reassures her. “Go in peace and may the God of Israel grant you what you have asked.” And so Hannah is no longer downcast. She begins to eat again and the next morning before she and Elkanah leave the Temple they give bow low before God and return home.

The story ends happily. Hannah becomes pregnant, has a child. She keeps her promise and no sooner is he weaned from her that she returns with him to the Temple and gives him over to Eli, declaring, “As you live my lord, I am the woman who stood here beside you and prayed to Adonai. It was this boy I prayed for; and Adonai has granted me what I asked. I, in turn, hereby lend him to Adonai. For as long as he lives he is lent to Adonai. And they bowed low there before Adonai.”

So what are we to make of this tale with its unabashed declaration of yearning and its happy conclusion and even more important - how might it help to teach us what we need to do as we approach God on the eve of this New Year – with our set of yearnings and expectations, troubles and concerns, hopes and dreams? We might assume the simple truth that unlike Hannah some of our prayers may not be answered in the affirmative. And yet is there still something that we can learn from her example?

I believe that there is. What Hannah’s story teaches us is something extraordinary about the way in which we relate to God and to those whom we love. Think about it: Eli thought Hannah was drunk with wine. As High Priest, the divine spirit rested upon him and he was able to see within the hearts of men and women. Yet he saw Hannah as nothing more than a drunkard – drunk with worldly desire, a desire for a child so she would no longer suffer the shame and ridicule afforded her by Peninah.

But Hannah corrects him. She tells him it is not wine but her soul that pours out to God. On the contrary, she tells him that “my desire for a child has purpose and meaning beyond the pursuits and follies of human beings. You see, I have already promised my child to God.”

So it is with our prayers: We pray for material things, but it is not the material but the spiritual within them, that our soul most genuinely desires. The mission of every human being is to bring the many things of this chaotic world into harmony with their inner purpose and the oneness that underlies them. To accomplish this, each of us must have those things related to our mission: our family, our health, our homes, and our success. We pray for these things from our innermost hearts; our soul pours out for them, not so much because we want them as we understand that without them we cannot fulfill our mission in this world. And in our hearts if we pray with this intent we know that God listens not so much because we matter but because God wants us to fulfill His mission on this earth.

But something else must happen as well, for the story of Hannah is not only about her relationship with God but also about her relationship with others. And what we need to recognize from her story is that the people in her life fail to understand her and fail to figure out the reason why she feels the way she does. Her rivals taunt her. Her husband thinks that his love can soothe her sadness and the priest assumes that she is drunk instead of in despair. Everyone is getting it wrong because no one is really listening to what she is trying to say.

The High Holidays are a time for us to come to this sacred place, to open our hearts to God, to pray for what really matters in our lives and to pledge anew to really listen to one another – to the concerns, the yearnings and the desires in our lives. And if we do that – then maybe, just maybe – the good that came to Hannah’s life will in some way touch our own.

You see, Hannah’s story is ultimately a reminder to her that she is not alone – and it is also a reminder to us – that we are not alone. And you know what, not being alone might just beGod’s greatest gift to us all. Shanah Tovah.