I had a hard time praying this morning.After a sleepless night, I was tired and found it near impossible to enter into the realm of understanding and experiencing the morning service.Usually I make great efforts to transcend the words of prayer and touch on their inner meaning. This morning I felt a different impulse. This time I recited the words slowly and carefully, as if they were components of a sacred poem.This time I let the words themselves do the spiritual driving to a destination of holiness. I listened carefully to the sounds of syllables, to the words' cadences, to the rhyming, rhythm and meter arrangement of the words; I leisurely lounged in the language, immersed in flowing words of the Holy Tongue.
For some mysterious reason, the words were lovely, a form of music rushing through my mind.The words were more than mechanical intonations, magical in their intention. I had no illusion that mere recitation would somehow alter reality , vehicles of incantation that carry magical powers. Rather it was the melody of words, their inherent music and poetry, that captured my attentiveness on this morning of fatigue and restlessness.
I whispered: "Here are the words, God, do with them as You wish. I hope they please You.!"