Coming adrift on the Sea of Prayer

While the most widely discussed bits of Pirkei Avot address social (and antisocial) relations between humans, its content extends beyond the social realm and considers the individual’s relationship with God.  One teaching from Avot that touches on this very personal area is brought in the name of Rabbi Shimon ben Netanel, who opens his mishnah (Avot 2:18) with this advice:

Be meticulous in reciting the Shema and in prayer. And when you do pray, do not make your prayers keva (routine, by rote), but pleas for mercy and supplications before God…

This is an unexceptional and uncontroversial teaching, and discussion of it tends to stress the importance of understanding one’s words and saying them in the knowledge that one is addressing an omnipotent and ineffable entity who knows one’s every thoughts and upon whom one’s very existence depends. However important the text of the Shema and the template of the daily prayers may be, and however great might be the cosmic impact of their recitation even by rote, this teaching in Avot reminds us that we are supposed to be seeking to create and development a meaningful relationship with God – something best done with sincerity and deep comprehension.

I have recently been pondering the meaning of Rabbi Shimon ben Netanel’s words in the context of my own personal situation.

Last week I underwent surgery which, thank God, was successful, but which entails a long and painful period of convalescence. To this end, I have been prescribed a course of painkillers which include a powerful opioid drug. The efficacy of this drug in providing pain relief is beyond doubt, but it has a number of side effects. Thus, while faced with the prospect of daily prayer and recitation of the Shema, I find myself contending with spells of sudden drowsiness and a marked inability to concentrate reliably on what I am doing.

This morning, waking pain-free and with what felt like a clear mind, I attempted my regular morning prayers. This attempt took over an hour and a quarter, in the course of which I found that I had involuntarily lapsed into sleep three times. Even when awake, I found that I was not fully in control of my thoughts. Vivid images flashed through my mind, a good example being an unexpected recall of a lavishly illustrated colour picture of the splitting of the Reed Sea that I had seen many years ago in a children’s book, and when I recited ‘compilation’ passages in which verses from various sources are gathered together, I was connecting some of those verses with the passages in Tanach from which they originated.

My situation might be described like this: I felt as if I was sailing on a sea of prayer, trying to row back towards the fixed text of the Shema, its attendant blessings and the template of the Amidah, while all the time my mind was pulling me out to sea. I wanted the security of that which was keva, since that was the firm basis of my daily audition with God, but I had to recognise the power of the mind to pull away from it and to celebrate the jumble of images, words and experiences that together make me what I am.

I wonder if any members of this group have had similar experiences. If so, I’d like to know how you coped with them and whether you found them ultimately disturbing or beneficial.