Prayer, tefillah, and davening are not commodities for sale like toothpaste, clothing, or real estate

ISanyone offended or even embarrassed by the recent large posters throughout Israel that offer “free prayer” at the grave of a certain tzaddik (whose name and that of the sponsoring fine organization I omit out of respect for them)? This tzaddik, shouts the huge, multicolored poster “never charged, and he still doesn’t.” And just to be sure you get the message, the “free prayer” mantra is repeated three different times in the broadsheet.

How mortifying: When he prayed for people, he never sent them a bill. Now that is a real tzaddik!

For some reason, I was always under the impression that the gates of prayer were open 24/7, and that everyone was welcome to enter those gates. “Ki yemincha peshutah lekabel shavim —Thy right hand is outstretched to accept returnees.” The very term “free” when coupled with “prayer” is a grotesque oxymoron. Are there prayers that are not free, but expensive? Does there exist a “pay as you pray” plan? In Melachim II 4:33, when the mother of the dead child frantically asked Elisha the prophet to pray for the boy, did Elisha demand payment for his services?

Of course, no one intended to demean this tzaddik. Rather, what has happened is that we have lost our sensitivity to language and its subtleties. Both the publicity writer and many of us — inured to such indignities — do not see the unseemliness of the phrase “free prayer.” In this intersection of marketplace shtick and sacred practice, the ad writer allowed his PR training to overpower his good taste. He was taught that terms like “free,” or “70% off,” are irresistible lures. It follows therefore that if you want large crowds to come to the grave of a tzaddik, use the word “free,” and they will appear in their multitudes. One shudders to contemplate that the future might feature morsels like: Special! Prayers available for 70% off, this week only…. Buy two prayers, get one free… as long as supplies last.

Vulgarity and infinity, it seems, are twins: There is no limit to either of them.

In truth, good taste and bad taste cannot be taught. It is an instinctive sense that something is either right or not right; either appropriate or jarringly off tune. It is reminiscent of what the wisest of all men might have had in mind when he so vividly wrote in Mishlei: “Nezem zahav b’af chazir, ishah yafah vesaras ta’am — As a gold ring in a pig’s snout, so is a handsome woman lacking taste.” The absence of good taste lingers on; it has many incarnations.

On a personal note: This writer served as a pulpit rabbi in the US for 40 years, with congregants on the fringes of Judaism who by and large were open to genuine Yiddishkeit. Much effort was devoted in trying to demonstrate the elegance and majesty of Torah living. Many of them, with G-d’s help, did in fact become fully observant and model Jews. Fortuitously, they never heard about the glories of praying for free. Had they done so, the result would have been confusion and disappointment, for nothing so guarantees a rejection of Torah by marginal Jews than the impression of insincerity and that “all they want is our money.”

In sum: Prayer, tefillah, and davening are not commodities for sale like toothpaste, clothing, or real estate. They are a reaching out of the Jewish soul to our welcoming Creator. And they come with a lifetime offer which never expires and never charges. It has only one price tag: A sincere Jewish heart.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1062)