Of course, all tefillos have an effect, but the deepest tefilla comes from the one most personally affected.  

Stitch upon stitch. While the oil lamp flickered, Chana heneviah adjusted the angle of the fabric and prepared to once more insert the needle into the fine wool. The coat was almost done. It would be a gift, a token of love to the child she had dedicated to G-d. In just a few more days, they would be heading to Shiloh.

The coat Chana sewed for her son Shmuel was no ordinary garment. The midrash tells us that as the child grew, the coat got bigger so that it always fitted him. In fact, in later years, when Shmuel encountered the baalas ov after he had passed away, he was wearing the very same coat that his mother had fashioned for him all those years before.

A coat is definitely a useful garment, especially in the winter. But the coat Chana sewed had a deeper significance, as highlighted by Reb Chaim Shmuelewitz, z”l. When Chana sewed that coat, every single stitch was imbued with love, with prayer, with dedication to the Jewish people. So much so, that Shmuel imbibed these values and messages. In fact, Shmuel’s ability to travel from village to village, teaching and judging the nation, stemmed from the power of the little coat sewn by his mother.

A Prayer-filled Day

Classically, we have understood Chana as originating the form of prayer that we practice today; for example, her silent words are the forerunner of our present-day Shemoneh Esrei. But here we see something of startling relevance to us as women: tefillah belongs not only in the mishkan at Shiloh, or even during the designated time for prayer. Tefilla is sewn into the fabric of each action we take as women — each mundane chore, every sandwich we prepare, every load of laundry we throw into the machine. The sefer Bilvavi Mishkan Evneh explains that by injecting a small prayer into each of these moments, we give our loved ones the strength to learn and serve Hashem.

Rav Shimshon Pincus in sefer Nefesh Chaya points out that Hashem gives women so many opportunities to daven for their children. At the moment of childbirth, a woman cries in pain and those tears form the bedrock of that new life’s future growth. As the child grows, the mother soothes him through colicky nights and ear infections and scrapes and tears. And each time, a mother adds another prayer to the foundation she’s built, that invisible structure that ensures her child’s physical and spiritual wellbeing. All of these whispered prayers, and even the aching, wordless heart, are stitches on the coats we fashion for our families, designed to protect them from winter cold and foreign winds.

Chana’s very name is related to the word chaninah, meaning to beseech and request an undeserved gift. The prophetess’s very essence is bound up with the idea of prayer. One of the first lessons we learn from Chana is the responsibility of each person to daven for herself, and not to rely that others will implore heaven on her behalf.

Think about it. Chana had been childless for 19 years. And we don’t hear about any innovative prayers before the famous incident recorded in the Navi. What was different that year that made Chana open up the wellspring of yearning inside her and spill it out in a song to Hashem? That year, Elkanah told Chana that his love for her was “greater than that of ten sons.” A beautiful, affirming statement from husband to wife. And yet, Chana read a deeper message into Elkanah’s words. She heard that he had given up hope, that he felt that there was no chance of her ever bearing a child.

But Chana did not despair. Instead, she realized that the onus of prayer now lay entirely on her. It was in her hand to take the initiative and responsibility to daven for herself. She could no longer rely on her husband’s prayers. In this vein, Chazal tell us how the tefilla of a sick person carries tremendous weight. Of course, all tefillos have an effect, but the deepest tefilla comes from the one most personally affected.

So often in life, we daven, but we still expect the salvation to come from elsewhere: whether doctors or a job offer or other outside forces. To completely shoulder the burden of prayer means turning to Hashem with the knowledge that only He can help. We’re ultimately dependent upon Him. This level of prayer is the legacy of Chana haneviah.

Don’t Settle

In Chana’s prayer, she asked that the child she yearned for be equal to the greatest of men, Moshe Rabbenu, and Aharon Hakohen.  Rav Avigdor Nebenzhal, shlita, in his sichos on Shavous notes that we learn from here quite how ambitious we can be when davening for spirituality.  Chana was not satisfied that her future son to be “just” a tzaddik, or even a gadol hador—she wanted him to reach the greatest of heights! The pasuk in Tehillim promises: harchev picha vamalehu— when we are able to open our mouths wide, and really yearn for spirituality, Hashem will fulfil our requests.  As women, we can use our power of prayer to daven for the greatest of spiritual heights for the members of our families, and create the atmosphere wherein those tefillos can become a reality.

At the same time, Chana’s request that her son be like Moshe Rabbeinu and Aharon Hacohen can be understood as asking for a child who would live up to his potential. The Rambam in Hilchos Teshuva states that every person can become as great as Moshe Rabbenu.  Yet the Torah itself tells us that there will never be a prophet as great as Moshe Rabbenu: so what does the Rambam mean?

Rav Moshe Feinstein, z"l, in Derash Moshe notes that one aspect of the greatness of Moshe and Aharon was that they both lived up to the potential they had been given. Hence, the Torah equates them in their greatness. This was the brachah that Chanah Haneviah requested: a child who would live up to his potential.

Even before she had children, Chana succeeded in straddling the worlds of the ideal and the actual. While at times, parents must sacrifice for their children, even sending them away to give them the opportunity to learn in the optimal environment, the goal must always be for the child fulfil his own potential to the full. When each child becomes the person they are meant to be, they will have achieved a kinship with the astounding level of Moshe Rabbenu.

Chana’s own prayer did not only center upon her child; it models something deeper. Once Shmuel was born and brought to the Mishkan and placed under the care of Eli HaKohen, Chana again drew on her inner wellspring of prayer. This time, her words were an outpouring of thanks for the gift Hashem bestowed upon her.

A careful reading of this tefillah brings out the main theme: how Hashem is Master of the world, is deeply connected with every person, and leads he world with perfect precision. Chana was able to move beyond herself and her personal needs, wants, and desires, and focus on Hashem and His greatness. The child she wanted so desperately is dedicated to serve Hashem; the focus of her gratitude is the glory and power of Hashem.

Livelihood, health, and oh, Hashem, please help Yanky get accepted into school… Prayer is the vehicle for us to express our wants and needs and to help us internalize Who is the beneficiary of all our desires: that everything comes from our loving Father.

But prayer is also the vehicle to refine those wants and dreams. In her prayer, Chana reached above her individual concerns for her son and demonstrated the centrality of Hashem in our lives and complete dedication to His will. In a world where we are hemmed in by selfishness, the lesson of recognizing our purpose and mission is imperative.

When we thank Hashem for the blessings we receive, we must also acknowledge Hashem’s sovereignty over the world and feel the special connection He has with each and every one of us. And may we, too, merit to be cloaked in the warm, protective coat of our words of prayer.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 446)