Why Pray to God?
God is whole and infinite and doesn't need anything from us. He doesn't seek honor or praise. For this reason, when we pray, we are ultimately praying for ourselves.
Through prayer, we cultivate gratitude for the life we've been given and the endless good that has been bestowed upon us, and, most importantly, we create a sense of connection with the Source of everything, the Infinite One, who sustains us at every moment.
Does God really need our prayers?
A Jew is obligated to pray three times a day, and the prayer book is filled with praise for God. But does God really need our prayers and compliments? What’s the point of this repetitive daily ritual?
We live in a time of incredible technological advancement. Humans have created machines that do almost everything for us. We can access infinite amounts of knowledge with our fingertips. We’ve even conquered countless diseases. In modern times, it might seem as if humanity is self-sufficient and no longer needs a higher power or a religion to guide our lives.
But that sense of independence is an illusion. We aren’t really in control. Consider just a few of the countless processes that occur in the human body without our ongoing intervention or awareness:
The Circulatory System – The heart is the body’s hardest-working muscle, beating approximately 100,000 times a day and over 3 million times a month. In an average lifetime, the heart beats more than 2.5 billion times and pumps 182 million liters of blood. The body produces 180 million red blood cells every hour, and the total length of the body’s blood vessels is about 100,000 kilometers, enough to circle the Earth two and a half times. With every beat, the heart pumps about 100 milliliters of blood. In one day, about 8,000 liters of blood pass through the heart, enough to fill a swimming pool every three days.
Cells – The body creates 25 million new cells every second. That means that every 13 seconds, the number of cells generated by the body exceeds the population of the United States. Simultaneously, about half a million cells die each second in a process called apoptosis, or programmed cell death. An average person sheds around 105 pounds of dead skin by the time they reach 70. If we could stretch out all the DNA in our bodies, it would span 16 billion kilometers, which is the distance to Pluto and back.
The Brain – If the human brain were a computer, it could perform 38,000 trillion operations per second. The fastest computer today can handle only 0.02% of that. The brain is thought to hold up to 1,000 terabytes of information, which is equal to about 15 full national libraries. Signals in the nervous system travel faster than race cars, up to 250 mph. Despite comprising only 2% of our body weight, the brain uses 20% of our oxygen and energy. Every minute, 750 milliliters to a liter of blood flow through the brain. The hypothalamus, weighing just four grams, controls vital processes such as emotions, hunger, thirst, body temperature, chemical balance, sleep, and movement.
The Senses – If the eye were a digital camera, it would have a resolution of 576 megapixels. For comparison, the most advanced cameras today have 80 megapixels and cost over $30,000. Experts estimate that the human eye can distinguish between 10 million colors. In addition to the five traditional senses (sight, hearing, touch, taste, and smell), humans have about 15 others, including balance, pressure, temperature, pain, thirst, fullness, and the sense of suffocation, triggered by carbon dioxide levels in the blood.
And this is only the tip of the iceberg.
What’s most astounding is that all of this happens on its own, without our conscious effort or awareness, and often without full scientific explanation. Thankfully, we don’t have to remember to activate our hearts each morning.
Clearly, these wonders are not random. Behind them stands the Creator, Who sustains our bodies and souls at every moment.
On a human level, the most basic response to these incredible wonders is gratitude: saying thank you and praising the One who “spoke and brought the world into being” for the gift of life, for the ability to think, speak, breathe, and simply be.
God is perfect and entirely complete. He lacks nothing and needs nothing, not even a “kind word” from us. The gratitude and praise in our prayers are for our own benefit. They train us to recognize and value the many blessings we’ve been given.
When people take things for granted, they fail to appreciate what they have. We don’t think twice about walking until we see someone in a wheelchair. We don’t value our sight until we meet someone with a guide dog. We complain about our spouses until we hear about someone still searching for theirs.
Even if we’re lacking in some areas, our lives are filled with goodness and precious gifts. The praise and gratitude in our prayers are meant to help us recognize that and embed gratitude within our souls.
The blessings we recite throughout the day help us notice the gifts in our lives: a slice of bread with our favorite spread, a cup of fresh-brewed coffee, the ability to use the restroom without difficulty, or the fragrant smell of rosemary, to name a few things. When we pause to say “thank you,” our soul learns to appreciate what we have, and the more we appreciate, the more joy we experience.
Even a short, sincere blessing can transform our perspective. If we speak the words with intention and not by rote, we begin to cultivate a deep sense of awareness and thanks. This is part of our spiritual refinement and our work of inner growth in this world.
A Daily Reminder of Dependence
Another reason God commands us to pray is to remind us of our dependence on Him and help us overcome our ego. Standing in prayer before God and acknowledging the vast difference between ourselves and God reinforces our awareness that we are not in control.
Even the most skilled pilot cannot fly his plane without a team of mechanics who service the engine, sufficient fuel reserves, air traffic controllers, and a clear runway. Likewise, we are completely dependent on the Creator Who sustains us moment by moment. Prayer helps break down the illusion of independence that the ego creates and reminds us of the truth: we are completely dependent on God. Often, we only internalize this message when something goes wrong: a damaged nerve, a failing organ, or trouble with something else in our bodies. One small malfunction can upend our entire lives. Prayer helps us not only understand this but also live with that awareness.
The Power of Repetition
Prayer is also powerful because of its consistency. Repeating the same words three times a day embeds them in our consciousness and transforms them into part of our worldview.
This consistency teaches us a few core truths: God created and governs the world. He is the Source of everything we need (“There is none besides Him,” Devarim 4:35). He loves us, watches over us, and wants things to be good for us. When we internalize that the One who controls everything is willing to help us with anything, we realize that we are never alone. As it says in Tehillim (81:11): “Open your mouth wide, and I will fill it.”
Beyond the Self
Prayer also lifts us beyond the “here and now” and helps us focus on life’s true purpose. Generally speaking, people tend to focus on themselves. When they pray, they think about their own needs and their personal concerns and desires.
While it’s natural to pray for ourselves, we are also meant to dream bigger. Great people know how to look beyond themselves. That’s why Jewish prayer is formulated in plural: “Heal us,” “Bless us,” “Our God.” Rarely does Jewish prayer speak in the singular. We pray in a minyan, a quorum of ten men. Judaism teaches that you cannot be truly holy in isolation. Prayer reminds us that we are part of something bigger. We are part of a community, a nation, humanity, and, ultimately, all of creation.
Building a Relationship
So far, we’ve explored why we need prayer. But the fact remains: God commands us to pray. Why?
Many times, God is compared to a parent. For example, in the prayer Avinu Malkeinu (Our Father, Our King) or the formulation Av HaRachaman (Compassionate Father) that appears in our prayer service. How is this relationship similar to a parent-child relationship?
Our relationship with God is a bond that can never be broken.
People can change homes, jobs, spouses (and even favorite sports teams). But there’s one thing that will never change: You will always be your parents’ child.
Perhaps that’s why we sometimes take our parents for granted. If we don’t have to work to maintain the relationship, why put in the effort? That’s exactly why the Torah includes honoring one’s parents in the Ten Commandments, thereby reminding us that we must feel deeply indebted to our parents for our very existence.
Still, as we grow older, we may forget what our parents have done-and still do-for us. We get busy. But no parent ever regrets getting a call from a child who simply says, “I just wanted to check in” or “I miss you.”
Our relationship with God is the same. He brought us into this world, provides for us, and watches over us. Imagine how it pains Him when we forget to speak to Him, when we distance ourselves from Him.
The purpose of prayer is to reconnect us with God. Even our struggles and needs are designed to remind us that there is Someone who runs the world. There is Someone we can turn to and ask for help. When life is easy, we tend to forget. When we hurt, we remember.
Prayer is the bridge. It draws us closer to Him in joy and sorrow, in peace and uncertainty. Every single day.
A Personal Invitation
Ultimately, prayer forms our relationship. Someone is waiting for your prayer. Someone is waiting for you to reconnect. Because God always hears you, until the words run dry.
It’s an invitation that you can’t refuse:
I want to invite you to a meeting. A daily meeting. I know you have a lot to say to Me, a lot to ask for. And I want to hear you. The truth is, I miss your voice. After all, I’m your Dad.
I know you’re busy. With exams, work, your social life… and that’s okay. But I also know that unless we set a regular time to meet-every morning, the same time-you won’t come. Not because you don’t want to. Because you’re distracted. And I understand that.
And I don’t mind if you’re distracted. I’m just happy you showed up. Say what’s in your heart. Even if your mind wanders…
After all, I’m your Dad, and I see how hard you’re trying.
The outcome is not what’s important to Me. It’s the effort you make. The effort to stay connected. To show Me that you’re still My child. That you still love Me.
And I know that one day, the meaning behind the words will come. (Even now, I can sense that you really mean some of the things you say.)
I know the words are old and not your own. But they were written because it’s hard for you and your brothers and sisters to find your own words.
If you try to learn them and understand them, you’ll quickly see that these words express exactly what you meant to say.
Maybe our meeting feels forced now, but it’s still a daily meeting, and that’s what matters.
So don’t disappoint Me.
I’m always here, waiting for you. Waiting to hear your voice, your song, your gratitude.
Dad
(Based on The Thirteen Petalled Rose by Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz)
Asher Yatzar, one of Judaism’s most beautiful blessings, is traditionally recited after using the bathroom (and washing one’s hands).
This blessing expresses gratitude for the remarkable gift of the human body and thanks God that each organ in our body functions perfectly, that our bodies release hormones and enzymes with precision, and that our digestive system provides exactly what we need and efficiently disposes of waste, and so much more.
Beyond this, Asher Yatzar is also a prayer of thanks for the soul and expresses gratitude for the Divine spark that dwells within us.
Reciting this blessing thoughtfully is traditionally considered a segulah, a spiritual omen for promoting good health.
Lieutenant Colonel Mordechai Bar-On, who served as the Chief Education Officer in the IDF, among other roles, recounted a personal prayer experience from the War of Independence:
It was during the War of Independence, when I was a platoon commander… During the day, in the midst of battle, I didn’t feel afraid. I was too preoccupied and busy. But when night fell, as we lay in wait in anticipation of the attack that was expected at dawn, I lay in a trench in the orchard and began imagining what would happen when morning came, and I was terribly afraid.
The fear was overwhelming. I felt a strong urge to pray, but I didn’t know how. I wasn’t familiar with any prayers, but I prayed nonetheless. I prayed in simple language, in the way I understood. But I remember my deep longing to recite a prayer that had been traditionally recited by Jews throughout the generations. Only I didn’t know any such prayers.
Every morning, observant Jews recite a series of blessings known as Birchot Hashachar, the morning blessings, that express thanks for a wide range of daily gifts.
For example: “Blessed are You, Lord… Who gives sight to the blind,” thanks God for the ability to see; “…Who straightens the bent,” thanks God for the ability to stand upright; “…Who clothes the naked,” thanks God for the clothing that covers our bodies. The series concludes with a general expression of thanks: “…Who has bestowed abundant kindness upon me.”
These blessings are usually said as a single unit, either at home or in the synagogue. Beginning our day with gratitude helps us focus on the many blessings in our lives. It’s interesting to note that modern mental health professionals also recognize gratitude as a fundamental key to happiness.
Viktor Frankl, a Jewish psychologist of Austrian origin and one of Freud’s prominent students, did not consider himself a man of faith when he was deported to Auschwitz. He described his harrowing experiences in his famous book Man’s Search for Meaning. One of the episodes he recounts, one he says changed his life, centers on prayer.
One day, a few days after liberation, I was walking through lush meadows toward the nearest town to the camp. Larks circled above, and I heard them burst into song. As far as the eye could see, there was not a soul in sight. There was nothing but the earth and the wide sky and the birds’ song and the vast open space.
I stood still, looked around, lifted my eyes toward the heavens, and then I knelt on my knees. At that moment, I knew very little about myself or the world; only one verse echoed in my soul, just one: ‘From the narrow place I called out to God; He answered me with expansiveness’ (Tehillim 118:5).
I no longer remember how long I knelt and repeated that verse, but I know that on that day, in that hour, my new life began. Step by step I moved forward until I became human again (Man’s Search for Meaning).
Beyond the objective obligation to pray, prayer also has a positive psychological effect on the individual. Professor Robert Putnam, a political scientist at Harvard University, discovered something remarkable in his research. People who regularly attend prayer services are more likely than others to donate to charity, engage in volunteer work, give blood, support people suffering from depression, offer seats to strangers, help others find employment, and participate in many other forms of civic, moral, and philanthropic activity.
According to Putnam, the very fact that people come to pray instills in them a greater spirit of giving than in others. His findings show that regular attendance at prayer services is the most accurate predictor of altruism, more so than any other factor such as gender, level of education, income, ethnicity, place of residence, marital status, political ideology, general worldview, or age.
Asher Yatzar, one of Judaism’s most beautiful blessings, is traditionally recited after using the bathroom (and washing one’s hands).
This blessing expresses gratitude for the remarkable gift of the human body and thanks God that each organ in our body functions perfectly, that our bodies release hormones and enzymes with precision, and that our digestive system provides exactly what we need and efficiently disposes of waste, and so much more.
Beyond this, Asher Yatzar is also a prayer of thanks for the soul and expresses gratitude for the Divine spark that dwells within us.
Reciting this blessing thoughtfully is traditionally considered a segulah, a spiritual omen for promoting good health.
Every morning, observant Jews recite a series of blessings known as Birchot Hashachar, the morning blessings, that express thanks for a wide range of daily gifts.
For example: “Blessed are You, Lord… Who gives sight to the blind,” thanks God for the ability to see; “…Who straightens the bent,” thanks God for the ability to stand upright; “…Who clothes the naked,” thanks God for the clothing that covers our bodies. The series concludes with a general expression of thanks: “…Who has bestowed abundant kindness upon me.”
These blessings are usually said as a single unit, either at home or in the synagogue. Beginning our day with gratitude helps us focus on the many blessings in our lives. It’s interesting to note that modern mental health professionals also recognize gratitude as a fundamental key to happiness.
Beyond the objective obligation to pray, prayer also has a positive psychological effect on the individual. Professor Robert Putnam, a political scientist at Harvard University, discovered something remarkable in his research. People who regularly attend prayer services are more likely than others to donate to charity, engage in volunteer work, give blood, support people suffering from depression, offer seats to strangers, help others find employment, and participate in many other forms of civic, moral, and philanthropic activity.
According to Putnam, the very fact that people come to pray instills in them a greater spirit of giving than in others. His findings show that regular attendance at prayer services is the most accurate predictor of altruism, more so than any other factor such as gender, level of education, income, ethnicity, place of residence, marital status, political ideology, general worldview, or age.
Lieutenant Colonel Mordechai Bar-On, who served as the Chief Education Officer in the IDF, among other roles, recounted a personal prayer experience from the War of Independence:
It was during the War of Independence, when I was a platoon commander… During the day, in the midst of battle, I didn’t feel afraid. I was too preoccupied and busy. But when night fell, as we lay in wait in anticipation of the attack that was expected at dawn, I lay in a trench in the orchard and began imagining what would happen when morning came, and I was terribly afraid.
The fear was overwhelming. I felt a strong urge to pray, but I didn’t know how. I wasn’t familiar with any prayers, but I prayed nonetheless. I prayed in simple language, in the way I understood. But I remember my deep longing to recite a prayer that had been traditionally recited by Jews throughout the generations. Only I didn’t know any such prayers.
Viktor Frankl, a Jewish psychologist of Austrian origin and one of Freud’s prominent students, did not consider himself a man of faith when he was deported to Auschwitz. He described his harrowing experiences in his famous book Man’s Search for Meaning. One of the episodes he recounts, one he says changed his life, centers on prayer.
One day, a few days after liberation, I was walking through lush meadows toward the nearest town to the camp. Larks circled above, and I heard them burst into song. As far as the eye could see, there was not a soul in sight. There was nothing but the earth and the wide sky and the birds’ song and the vast open space.
I stood still, looked around, lifted my eyes toward the heavens, and then I knelt on my knees. At that moment, I knew very little about myself or the world; only one verse echoed in my soul, just one: ‘From the narrow place I called out to God; He answered me with expansiveness’ (Tehillim 118:5).
I no longer remember how long I knelt and repeated that verse, but I know that on that day, in that hour, my new life began. Step by step I moved forward until I became human again (Man’s Search for Meaning).
I got married young. My father-in-law, a wealthy man, agreed to support me for several years so I could devote myself entirely to Torah study. He bought me a beautiful tallit (prayer shawl) and ordered a pair of tefillin that were written especially for me. I accepted upon myself that whenever I wore the tallit and tefillin, I would think only holy thoughts.
I sat and learned all day in the Beit Midrash (study hall). I would rise at five in the morning, study for a long time, pray, return home for breakfast, and go straight back to the Beit Midrash to continue learning until late at night.
One day, around two o’clock in the afternoon, a man walked in. I had never met a Kotzker Chassid before, but from what I’d heard about them, I could tell that this man was one of them. He had a fierce, fearless presence. You could see he wasn’t afraid of anyone.
He came over to me and asked, “Would you mind lending me your tallit and tefillin? I haven’t prayed yet.”
Two o’clock in the afternoon, and he hasn’t yet found time to pray?! What kind of Jew is this? I couldn’t help myself, and I said, “You haven’t prayed yet? I’ve already studied for seven hours and prayed twice! What have you been doing all day?”
“Listen, my friend,” he replied, “I didn’t come here to be berated or get advice. Just tell me if I can borrow your tallit and tefillin or not.”
“Fine,” I said. “But just so you know, when I wear them, I only allow myself to think holy thoughts. So please…”
He looked at me with a mixture of pity and a touch of sarcasm. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ll manage my own thoughts.”
I braced myself for something powerful, for a fiery prayer that would make up for the delay. But no. He wrapped himself in the tallit, put on the tefillin, walked slowly to the window, stood there calmly, and stared out at the market square.
I was stunned. The audacity! It’s already the middle of the afternoon, and instead of praying, he’s wasting time while wearing my tallit and tefillin! Who knows what he’s thinking about? The price of onions? The size of the apples?
Fifteen minutes passed. I was ready to snatch the tallit right off him, but I held myself back. An entire hour went by. Then suddenly, he rushed to the Aron Kodesh (Holy Ark), leaned his head against the curtain, and stayed there.
Thank God! I thought. Finally, he’s starting to pray. I expected an explosion of emotion. A solo performance of passionate prayer. But no. He stayed there silently for maybe eight minutes. Then he was done.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I ran over and took back the tallit.
And suddenly I felt it. The tallit was damp. From what? From tears, I think.
I was so ashamed. I felt so far away.
“I’m sorry!” I said. “I didn’t realize you were really praying.” I paused. “Tell me, what were you doing at the window for an hour?”
“Come,” he said. “I’ll show you.”
We both looked out the window. At the far end of the square was a small unit of Cossacks doing drills. “You see them?” he said. “Their officer shouts: ‘Turn right!’ ‘Turn left!’ and they follow his orders exactly. Do you think they’d have the nerve to go left when he says right?
“Now imagine their general, the commanding officer of all the Cossacks, came and gave the order himself. Wouldn’t they rather die than disobey him?
“And now picture the Czar himself standing here, commanding them: ‘Right!’ ‘Left!’ Wouldn’t a simple Cossack rather take his own life a thousand times than defy the Czar?
“And who are these Cossacks, really? Just a bunch of drunkards. Their officer? A slightly bigger drunk. Their general? An even bigger one. And the Czar? The biggest drunkard of all.”
He paused for a moment, as if returning inward, deep into his soul.
Then he said to me quietly, from the depths of his heart:
“I said to myself: We stood at Mount Sinai. We heard the voice of the Holy One, blessed be He, commanding each of us: ‘Turn right!’
“So why do I keep turning left?”
“When I finally understood that,” he completed his story, “I got up to pray.”
