The Secret of the Broken Heart: The Cry That Pierces All the Heavens
Lesson No. 2 | Thursday, Parshas Kedoshim, 27 Nissan 5755 - Morning Class at the Yeshiva
When a person stands before the Creator like a poor man at the door, with a broken heart and a sense of helplessness, his prayer is more important than the prayers of the greatest tzaddikim (righteous ones). Rabbi Eliezer Berland shlit"a explains the secret of "a prayer of the poor man," and reveals how specifically the simple, painful cry opens all the gates of Heaven.
The first foundation of a Breslov Chassid, the first thing that Rebbe Nachman teaches us, is that a person must know his true place. He must believe with complete emunah (faith) that he is far, that he is still at the beginning of the path. The Sages ask, "How large is Mount Tavor?" and answer, "Four parsahs (a Talmudic measurement)." This is a parable for distance and magnitude—a person must know that no matter how much soul-searching he does, he is still infinitely far from the truth.
There are tzaddikim in the world, Admorim (Chassidic masters), and Roshei Yeshivas. They all keep Shabbos, put on tefillin, practice Hisbodedus (secluded prayer), and cry to Hashem in their prayers until their tears pour like water. A person must truly and innocently believe that these tzaddikim are much greater than him. He should not think to himself: "I traveled once to Uman, so I am already the greatest tzaddik in the world."
Rebbe Nachman teaches us to lower ourselves even further: believe that you are less than the intermediate ones. And perhaps you think you are better than the wicked? Not even that. As long as a person has any thought that he is worth something, says Rabbi Nosson (in Hilchos Orlah), all his spiritual work is still worth nothing. Rabbi Nosson did not want to accept even a single "penny" of self-worth for his spiritual work. If a person does not nullify all his personal calculations, he remains in a place of arrogance.
The Virtue of Jerusalem: Seeing One's Lowliness
This is the secret of Jerusalem, about which it is said, "And Jerusalem shall dwell in her place (literally, 'underneath')." Jerusalem has a special virtue: the more a person serves Hashem in Jerusalem, the more he sees his own lowliness. "It is elevated and raised up"—the city is high, but it sits "underneath," in the lowest place. Rabbi Nosson explains that this corresponds to four levels: the great, the intermediate, the small—and oneself. A person always tends to think he is the best of all, but the true work is to know that you are smaller than your own level.
If a person does not know that he is much worse than he thinks, he is in trouble. He looks at young scholars who learn day and night, from the end of Shabbos until candle lighting (the following Friday), and asks himself: "What am I? I open a book once in a blue moon." Do not busy yourself with calculations of who is Breslov and who is not, who is a tzaddik and who is not. Are you Hashem who distributes portions in the World to Come? Are you sitting at the gate of the Garden of Eden deciding who will enter?
"As long as a person has any thought that he is worth something—all his spiritual work is worth nothing."
A person must reach a state where he understands that he is smaller than everyone. Even from the wicked. Why? Because the wicked person might do teshuvah (repentance) in another moment and become a great tzaddik in the blink of an eye. It is written that Mashiach will specifically start with the heretics, and they will run after him immediately. With the "religious" people there will be a problem; they will start asking questions: "You are not my Rebbe, you are not the son of my Rebbe, how can you be Mashiach?". But the heretics, who have no Rebbe, will believe and return in teshuvah in an instant. It turns out that they are potentially greater tzaddikim than me.
Standing Like a Poor Man at the Door
All this preparation is required in order to approach prayer. King David says:
"Every haughty heart is an abomination to Hashem" (Proverbs 16:5)
If a person has a thought that he is better than someone else in the minyan (prayer quorum), his prayer does not ascend. It remains below. It is told of a certain tzaddik who would arrive at prayer, look at the congregation, and go outside to practice Hisbodedus for half an hour. His students asked him the meaning of this, and he explained: "I am used to making a calculation that I am worse than everyone. Today, someone new arrived whom the whole city speaks badly of, and I could not feel that I am worse than him. I had to go out and work on myself until I reached the conclusion that he is much greater than me. Only then could I enter to pray."
How does one approach prayer? "The poor man speaks with supplications." Like a poor man at the door. Like a person who knocks on the door and does not know if they will give him a penny, or if perhaps they will give him a slap and throw him down the stairs. This is how a person must stand before Hashem. Not to come with excessive self-confidence, not to "box" with Hashem with forceful hand motions, but to beg for mercy: "Master of the Universe, have mercy on me, help me, I am poor, do not check my tzitzis (scrutinize my deeds)."
Who knows if my prayer will even be accepted? Maybe they will throw it away? Maybe I do not belong at all? All this excessive self-confidence is an illusion. A person must consider every Jew to be a greater tzaddik than himself, and only then approach to ask.
The Immense Virtue of 'A Prayer of the Poor Man'
The holy Zohar (Parshas Balak, 195a) reveals an awesome secret. There are three main prayers: a prayer of Moses, a prayer of David, and a prayer of the poor man.
A prayer of Moses—"A prayer of Moses, the man of God." No man in the world merited such a prayer.
A prayer of David—"A prayer of David; incline Your ear, Hashem, answer me." No king merited such a prayer.
But there is one prayer that surpasses them all: "A prayer of the poor man when he faints."
The Zohar says: "The prayer of the poor man precedes the prayer of Moses, and precedes the prayer of David, and all other prayers in the world." The prayer of the poor man precedes them all. It bypasses Moses, it bypasses King David. Why? Because this poor man is broken-hearted. Everyone despises him, everyone says he has no brains, he has no parnassah (livelihood), and he comes before Hashem out of this brokenness.
"Hashem is close to the broken-hearted, and He saves those of crushed spirit."
Sometimes this poor person, out of pain, seemingly picks a "fight" with Hashem. He asks: "Master of the Universe, why is my fate so bitter? Why are my children hungry? Why don't I have money to buy them a schoolbag, and they walk around with a torn bag? Why don't they have shoes in the winter, and everyone laughs at them?".
He does not ask this out of heresy, Heaven forbid, but out of immense heartache. And Hashem? He specifically wants to hear this. Not the song of the angels, not the lofty spiritual attainments, but rather the words emerging from the bitter heart of the poor person. These words are more beloved to Hashem than all the prayers of the tzaddikim.
Opening All the Heavens
When this poor person begins to pray, all the heavenly halls open for him. There is no window that does not open before him, no firmament that he does not pierce. All the prayers in the world wait for his prayer. The prayer of Moshe and the prayer of David wait on the side, because they need to pass through "officials" and "halls," but the prayer of the poor person enters directly before the King.