I’m struggling with tefillah, both the formal davening-from-a-siddur kind, and the emotional asking-Hashem-for-my-deepest-needs kind. The only kind of tefillah that feels doable and available to me is the informal talking-to-Hashem-briefly-throughout-the-day-mostly-to-say-thank-You kind. My friend says this is very natural as this is what happens after years of davening for something and hearing no. It gets discouraging. It gets frustrating. It burns you out. I am somewhat resigned to this state of things at the moment. I wish it could be different. I love the idea of tefillah. But it doesn’t happen in practice for me, a lot of the time. I am wondering if you relate and what your own tefillah journey is looking like.
Are you referring to being burnt out specifically with davening for shidduchim, or in general? (Personally, unfortunately now I’m struggling with continuing to daven for the matzav in E”Y, it’s been going on for too long…And same with cholim who have a prolonged illness) (Theoretically, learning something about davening — whether the meaning of the words on a deeper level or Praying with Fire or… — should help– but easier said than done, it’s definitely a struggle.)
When I wrote this I was thinking about shidduchim, but you’re right, I feel the same about other prolonged situations unfortunately.
I think tefilla is (almost by definition) a process where we have ups and downs. There’s a halo around the idea that a good Jewish woman finds refuge in her siddur, always. For myself, this is often true. Other times, I feel depleted, drained, and done. I think anyone who’s been davening for something so important for so long is going to burn out. I’d be astounded if we DIDN’T feel this way at times.
I remember hearing (from Rabbi Ephraim Wachsman, IIRC) that the Berditchever said about himself that he davened for 2 whole years without feeling anything at all. He just kept going. But, he said, that when he finally reconnected, all those “empty” tefillos had made huge inroads in his avodas Hashem. Sometimes this idea gives me chizuk. (Sometimes it doesn’t.)
Hugs.
Thank you for sharing, that’s a beautiful idea from the Berditchever.
Sometimes I have an inferiority complex around tefillah, when I see other people davening with what looks like a lot of connection, and I’m like, “Am I so not spiritual?” It makes sense that everyone has times when they’re less connected though. Thank you 🤍
I also appreciated these articles (I found them to be refreshingly honest in certain ways) and also R’ Gershon Miller’s shiurim on Tefillah (done in conjunction with Penimi). I will say, though, that sometimes shiurim or articles help me, and sometimes there’s absolutely nothing I can do but to turn to Hashem in all my disconnect and say, “ואני תפילה — me just trying to put one foot ahead of the other — that’s the tefilla. Me, in all my emptiness, that’s the tefilla. All my unspoken words, dulled from years of echoes and loneliness and feeling so, so unheard — here. You know what I’m too tired to even try to express, and that’s the tefilla.”
https://www.penimi.org/_files/ugd/0fd67f_e5bdb4c77d8545479b66227823aee893.pdf
https://www.penimi.org/_files/ugd/0fd67f_4f5c235e5830448780e7d7c37d8551e4.pdf
Thank you so much for sharing these links, I will take a look when I can open them on my computer. This conversation is reminding me of a story in Family First from Yom Kippur 2011 (when I was just home from seminary and also feeling disconnected from tefillah at that time – not because of shidduch burnout but more like overwhelmed and confused). It was called “Dry-Eyed” by Sara Shamansky and this is as far as I can get it online https://mishpacha.com/facing-myself-special-theme-section/ but it was so validating. She writes about not being about to cry anymore on Yom Kippur and asking Hashem to see her dry eyes as the deepest tefillah.