That feeling, that tension, it's something the ancient sages grappled with too. And they found a powerful way to express it through prayer, a connection to something larger than themselves, in the book of Psalms.
Psalm 86, specifically. “Have mercy on me, O Lord, for I call to you all day long.” (Psalm 86:3)
Now, wait a minute. All day long? Is that even possible?
That's the question the Midrash Tehillim, a collection of homiletical interpretations on the Book of Psalms, asks. Can anyone really pray all day?
The answer, according to the Midrash, is both yes and no.
It's possible, but only in a very specific context. "Only in this world," the Midrash explains, "which is a day for the nations of the world and a night for Israel."
What does that even mean?
It’s a loaded statement, isn't it? It hints at the experience of living in a world where the dominant culture, the "nations," are in their ascendancy (their "day"), while Israel, representing a spiritual and often marginalized perspective, is seemingly in a period of darkness (their "night"). It speaks of the inherent tension of existing in a world that doesn't always align with your values, your beliefs, your very soul.
And yet, even in this "day" that doesn't feel like our own, we call out to God. We pray all day long.
But how? How can we be in constant prayer while navigating the demands of daily life?
The Midrash offers a beautiful analogy, attributed to Bar Kappara, a sage of the late 2nd and early 3rd centuries. He uses the example of a master and a servant.
Imagine a person who has a servant. If the master says to the servant, "I will buy you a garment," the servant is overjoyed. A simple act of kindness brings immense happiness.
Now, think about our relationship with God. We are, in a sense, servants of the Divine. But unlike an earthly master, God offers us not just a garment, but something far more profound: the opportunity to serve a higher purpose, to connect with something eternal. "How much more so if a person says to his flesh and blood servant, 'Serve me,' are we happy to serve you, O Lord."
It’s not about reciting prayers every waking moment (though that’s certainly valuable!). It’s about approaching every action, every thought, every interaction as an act of service to the Divine. It's about finding the sacred in the everyday.
It’s about recognizing that even when the world feels like it’s in its "day," even when we feel like we’re living in someone else’s story, we can still lift up our souls to God. We can still find joy in serving a purpose greater than ourselves.
And ultimately, that service, that constant striving for connection, that is the prayer that resonates all day long.
"Rejoice the soul of your servant," the Psalmist cries out (Psalm 86:4). It's a plea, yes, but also an affirmation. A declaration that even in the midst of a challenging world, the soul can find joy, can find meaning, in the act of serving something greater than itself.
So, how can we find that joy today? How can we make our lives a prayer, a constant act of service, even when the world feels like it's in its "day"? What "garment" can we offer the world through our actions, in service of the divine? It's a question worth pondering, all day long.