Creating Space For The Song Of Songs

MyLife Essay Contest

How to Overcome Self-Doubt and Discover a Different Way to Pray

Idealism and Realism

The tension between idealism and realism, between what we think we should be doing and what we actually find ourselves doing, can be downright demoralizing. When we fail to live up to our ideals we often take ourselves to task. When we should actually be celebrating our moral ambition and strengthening our resolve, we accuse ourselves of hypocrisy and egotism instead. Rather than recommitting ourselves to our ideals we are tempted to abandon them.

At its root, this is a crisis of identity. Our failure to live up to our own ideals confuses us. Who am I really? Am I the person I want to be, or should I lower my expectations and come to terms with the inadequacies of my character? Psychologically this can be extremely disorientating, leading to real stagnation in every area of life, and holding us back from any attempt to improve and excel.

Some might encounter this kind of crisis in their working life, in the social sphere or in some aspect of their personal life. I struggle with it most when I try to pray. As in any other area of human life, religious people are likely to find themselves caught between an idealistic perception of how they should pray and how they pray in reality.

How can such crises be overcome?

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Living Wisdom

In the Chassidic tradition the actualization of ideals in reality is often illustrated through a story – an ideal as it was once lived and as it can be lived again. Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn (1880-1950), the sixth rebbe of Chabad-Lubavitch, was an avid curator of such lived wisdom. Thinking about the problem of idealism and realism I was struck by the particular relevance of two of his recorded recollections. Both are early childhood memories (circa 1884) in which his father, Rabbi Shalom DovBer of Lubavitch, is immersed in prayer. But they represent starkly contrasting impressions.

The first memory seems to be of a specific episode, describing R. Shalom DovBer’s recital of the Shema, the liturgical declaration that “G-d is one.” In Chabad this is understood as a declaration that G-d’s oneness encompasses all things, and that all things are absorbed within G-d’s oneness:

“The synagogue is empty, and my father is weeping. I listen closely and hear that he is saying “shema yisrael” (“Hear O Israel”), and that he is weeping… After pronouncing the words “hashem elokeinu” (“G-d, our Lord”) he fell silent. Then the final words, “hashem echad” (“G-d is one”), burst forth from the depths of his heart with a great awe-inspiring cry.” (Likkutei Dibburim Vol. 4, pages 1347.)

This is a memory of an awe filled encounter; the effacement of man in the presence of G-d.

The second memory is a more general recollection of how R. Shalom DovBer prayed each morning. Aside from the Shema and the silent prayers of supplication, the morning prayer liturgy is largely composed of psalms in praise of G-d. In Chabad these prayers are approached as a contemplative and introspective exercise, in which the individual seeks to cultivate their awareness of divine transcendence, immanence, greatness and goodness, and also to refine their own character so that it better reflects the divine ideal:

“He would sing and pray, circling and walking to and fro, clicking his fingers and making sweeping gestures with his hands… I was then a small child, and the assumption formed in my mind that prayer is synonymous with song…” (Sefer Ha-sichot 5705, page 17.)

This is a memory of song filled celebration; the affirmation of G-d’s presence in the life of man.

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From Struggle to Song

These are slivers of an ideal once lived. The question for me, and for every Chabad chassid, is whether or not they can be lived again.

The inadequacy of our attempts at prayer often makes us think that such feats of contemplation, introspection and experience are beyond us. Who are we to anticipate awestruck awareness of the utter oneness of G-d, or joyous celebration of the tangibility of G-d’s presence? It is easier to simply admit that we lack the necessary capacities of mindful focus, and of heartfelt sensitivity and sincerity.

Even more daunting is the direct encounter with G-d that such prayer entails. No one knows your shortcomings and failures better than yourself. And to stand in the presence of G-d is to measure what you are, against what you should and could be. It is for good reason that Chassidic sources often refer to prayer as a war or a battle (see for examples Tanya, Chapter 30 and Likkutei Torah, Devarim 34c). From this perspective, the process of prayer is synonymous with struggle. Only when worldly pursuits and instincts are subdued can the soul successfully assert itself.

But R. Yosef Yitzchak’s youthful assumption that prayer is synonymous with song hints at a different approach to Chassidic prayer. Song too requires concentration, discipline and skill, but unlike a battle it should not be a struggle. War requires alacrity and action, but to sing is to submit, to lose yourself entirely in the transcendent spirit of the melody.

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Two Personas

The shift from prayer as struggle to prayer as song is explicated in a discourse by R. Schneur Zalman of Liadi, the first leader of Chabad, and is predicated on a deep psychological shift of much broader application.

In his foundational work of Chabad thought and instruction,LikkuteiAmarimTanya, R. Schneur Zalman famously distinguished between “two souls… which are two personas.” The first is the bodily soul “vested in the blood of man to enliven the body… and from it come all bad traits…” The second “is literally a part of G-d above…” These two personas are utterly distinct from one another, but vie for control of the faculties of thought, speech and action within each individual. (See Tanya, Chapters 1 through 13.)

We usually think of ourselves as having just one soul, one persona, and accordingly attribute struggles between right and wrong to the competing inclinations towards good and bad. This internal competition can be a source of much angst and confusion. This is where the split between idealism and reality leads us to condemn ourselves as hypocrites. But R. Schneur Zalman’s distinction attributes any bad thought, speech or action to the bodily soul, which has momentarily wrested control of our faculties, rather than to our real selves. The true self is “literally a part of G-d above,” and utterly transcends the inadequacies of the body and its inclinations.

In a discourse published in LikkuteiTorah, R. Schneur Zalman applies this axiomatic psychological shift to the problem of prayer. Instead of struggling against worldly inclinations, instead of fighting each surge of self doubt, the individual should remind themselves that “it is not the body or the animal soul that prays, rather it is ‘the part of G-d above’ that prays, speaking within you the words of prayer…” Your role is not to assert yourself through struggle but to step aside and make space so that the transcendent song can overtake you. “You need not do anything except make heard to your ears the singing and the prayer which it [the G-dly soul] sings…” It is not your earthly self that prays, but your better and truer self, a spark of G-d singing within you. (Likkutei Torah, Shir Ha-shirim, 2b-d)

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The Song of Songs

In shifting prayer from struggle to song, from the earthly self to the G-dly self, R. Schneur Zalman also extends the personal into the realm of the collective. The divine soul of each individual is a refraction of the collective soul of the Jewish people, and the collective soul of the Jewish people is synonymous with the divine presence of G-d on earth. To pray is to host the revealed indwelling of G-d on earth.

In R. Schneur Zalman’s own words:

“The service of collective Israel, which pleads and throws itself before G-d, is called the revealed indwelling of G-d… When man listens to this song and this prayer it is called hosting the revealed indwelling of G-d…” (Likkutei Torah, Ibid.)

This, continues R. Schneur Zalman, is one of the hidden meanings of King Solomon’s famous “Song of Songs.” “Songs” in the plural refers to the individual songs of all individual Jews. “Song of songs” refers to the single collective song that is comprised of all the individual songs. To pray is not simply to sing a personal song. To pray is to participate in the collective and eternal song of the transcendent soul of Israel. To pray is to create the space inside yourself in which the song of songs can be sung.

This approach to prayer certainly requires attentive focus on the words as they issue from your lips, and an awareness of their meaning. But in embracing your divine soul you are released from the burden of psychological angst. You are empowered to disown your inadequacies, inhibitions and demoralizing confusions, so that you can realize the legitimate ideals of the true you.

About the Author:

Eli Rubin is a research writer and editor at Chabad.org, focusing on the intellectual and social history of Chabad Chassidism.