Noach: Sweet Talk 

By: Rabbi Judah Mischel

Rebbe Yitzchak Luria, zy’a, was undoubtedly the greatest expositor of the secrets of Torah since Rebbe Shimon bar Yochai, author of the Zohar. Known by the acronym Arizal or the Ari HaKadosh, the prefix alef stands for Elokai, the G-dly Rebbe Yitzchak. No other sage in Jewish history has been granted this honorific. Revolutionized the way we understand and live with penimiyus haTorah, revealed an interpretive system of kavanos, spiritual intentionality toward the direction and application of the Kabbalah in prayer and mitzvahobservance.

Who could begin to imagine the awesome Yamim Noraim tefillos of the holy Arizal? A familiar yet invaluable ancient tale perhaps holds a tiny glimpse:

One year, following the busy holiday period, the Arizal sensed that while the prayers he had led in the company of the scholars and kabbalists of Tzfat were impactful, there was something missing in them. In an effort to seek out a tikkun and gain clarity on this intuition, the Arizal entered a deep meditative state and ascended to the upper worlds. There, in his state of expanded consciousness, a dream-like vision was shown to him of a Yid whose tefillos were remarkably favored on high.

Summoning his devoted disciple, Rav Chaim Vital, the Arizal insisted they embark on a journey to find out who this fellow was and how he had achieved so much in his prayers. After days of mystical travels, they arrived at a small hut in a far-flung Galilean town, and were taken aback by the luminous visage of the holy man when he came to his door. The sage greeted him and asked, “Please tell me dear brother, have you learned the depths of the Zohar’s comments on tefillah? 

“Rebbe,” the man said shyly, “I am sorry to say, I’m unfamiliar with that…. And, well, honestly, I’ve never studied much Torah.”

“But you do daven with kavanos, with lofty intentions, do you not?”

“Rebbe! …I don’t even know what that means.”

The Ari and Rav Chaim looked at each other in wonder. “My friend, tell me please of your avodah during the High Holy Days, I must know!” 

“Alright, if the Rebbe really wants. To be honest, I grew up in poverty, I never had the opportunity to learn even the basics of Torah and tefillah. In fact, I barely know half of the letters of the alef-beis. I’m not so comfortable in the shul, but of course I went anyway. Rebbe,” he grinned with embarrassment. “I confess, I wanted desperately to fit in and daven with the congregation; everyone was davening so eloquently in Hebrew…. My heart was so broken, I didn’t know what to do, so finally I just shouted out the handful of letters I know: ‘Aleph, beis, gimmel, daled, hei, vav, zayin, ches…!’ And then I said, ‘Master of the World! All I can do is give You what I know. That’s all I have, just a handful of letters. Please help me! Please string these letters together into words in a way that will bring You nachas…!”

Deeply moved by the sincerity of this Jew, the Ari HaKadosh bowed his head and praised him, “Ashreicha, fortunate are you! My friend, you’ll never know what a great gift you have given me today. Thank you!” Smiles remained on the lips of the two great teachers of Am Israel until they had returned to their holy beis medrash in Tzfat. Needless to say, the following year, their prayers rose to an even greater level.

“These are the generations of Noach: Noach was an ish tzaddik tamim b’dorosav, righteous and wholehearted, perfect, in his generations. Noach walked with Hashem” (Bereishis 6:9).

Hashem praises Noach as an ish tzaddik tamim. The Hebrew word tam, sometimes translated as “perfect,” is more accurately translated to “innocent,” while implying simplicity, purity, wholeheartedness, sincerity, and completeness. 

A lack of temimus takes a devastating toll on our inner world. Consider the core of our daily religious practice, Torah and tefillah. While we may be able to intellectually explain numerous peshatim and perushimwith fancy, highbrow language, engaging modern and ancient literary devices and analytical tools, it is the middah of temimus that connects us to what we are learning, saying, and doing. Rather than merely articulating a mass of eloquent theoretical information, davening with temimus brings alive a simple truth: we are speaking with the Creator, Sustainer and Master of the World. 

This past week marked Rosh Chodesh Marcheshvan. A number of explanations are suggested regarding the root of the name and essence of this month. The prefix Mar means bitter, a reference to this month being broken-hearted over its lack of any festivals. Mar also means drop, referring here to the first rains (the Yoreh), which fall in Cheshvan. Sefer haAruch suggests a word play: this month is Merachesh-van; merachesh (flowing) vahn (with water), as this is the month when we begin to pray for winter rains. 

The Gemara (Taanis 25b) recounts how, during a severe drought, the great Rebbe Eliezer rose before the community and prayed for rain, reciting the six extra blessings for rain ordained by the Sages to be added into the Amidah. Despite his twenty-four blessings, rain did not fall. Rebbi Akiva then went before the ark and cried out: 

“Our Father, our King, we have no king other than You. Our Father, our King, for Your sake, have mercy on us!”

His prayers were answered immediately. The Gemara then points to Rebbe Akiva’s forgiving nature as the reason his prayers were more effective than those of his teacher Rebbe Eliezer. The Arizal (Sefer haKavanos), however, asserts that Rebbe Akiva opened his heart and cried out to Hashem with unscripted words and with complete humility and self-effacement, davening with temimus. 

The Gemara (Megillah 27b) considers the length of time that one prayed as the time it is “arranged in his mouth,” meaning the period it continues to linger after one has completed his formal davening. If we have prayed with temimus, our lips may still be subtly and even subconsciously articulating those prayers for quite some time.

Arugas haBosem relates that in the month of Marcheshvan, marchushei merachshin, “our lips are still moving,” with the holy songs and prayers of the past month of Tishrei. Whispers of the elevated nigunim, songs, and tefillos of Selichos, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and Sukkos still echo in our ears.

Before our memories of the High Holy Days and our kabbalos, our holy resolutions for the new year, begin to fade, let us take up the opportunity of Cheshvan. Let us take this time to process and reflect on our Tishrei prayers, and the lingering taste of their words and letters. In this way, may Marcheshvan be sweetened with the after-glow of those festivals.

And may the Ribbono Shel Olam always hear our sincere prayers, accept our service of temimus, and make it rain with floods of blessing! 

Excerpted from Baderech: Along the Path of the Torah, forthcoming (Mosaica Press, Elul 5786).

Rabbi Judah Mischel is Executive Director of Camp HASC, and Mashpiah of OU-NCSY. He is a member of Mizrachi’s Speakers Bureau at www.mizrachi.org/speaker.