10 years, 8 months, 3 weeks and 2 days ago a young woman stepped out of Penn Station onto 34th street.
It was 2pm.
Dressed in beige strappy sandals, blue jeans, and a light blue top, she quickly put her thick long highlighted locks in a ponytail to relieve her of the August heat.
She was being picked up and driven to some sort of “Jewish retreat,” which she later found out would be termed “kiruv.”

Three weeks prior, she was in Israel, on a free trip called “birthright,” where, though there was plenty of hiking and partying, she hoped to find her “birthright” and somehow connect to this foreign religion, Judaism, in this foreign land, Israel.

She had grown up in a loving family. A family that was always very supportive of her extracurricular activities and endeavors. In her family, to be Jewish was to have a Jewish last name, eat latkes on Channukah and Matzah on Pesach, and to try to fast on Yom Kippur. She never once did Shabbos. She had no clue who Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob were. And if someone asked her what was kosher, she wouldn’t be able to tell you. She didn’t know what kosher meant.

High school and college flew by….great years. However, she was missing a big piece of her identity. She knew she was Jewish. But what did Jewish really mean? After all, it’s a religion…yet there was nothing religious about her connection with Judaism.

She thought that going to Israel would answer all her soul-searching questions. It didn’t answer any of them, but it wouldn’t be long until they would be finally addressed.

It was there, on this hot August day, during this 10-daykiruv retreat, that she experienced her first Shabbos. At 22 years old, she knew that on Shabbos, women light candles, and people eat challah and drink wine. She also knew that Shabbos was from Friday night to Saturday night, and during that time, Rabbis would say prayers in synagogues.

What she then came to know, though, was that additionally on this “Holy Day,” even when it’s not winter and it’s ridiculously hot outside, people still ate some type of traditionalmushy stew consisting of chunks of meat, potatoes, and beans. She also saw that people sat around tables and consumed a ridiculous amount of calories, and that people did not wear summer clothing in summer weather and were way too covered. That Shabbos was very hot, or as she came to learn it termed, “shmoiling.” That Shabbos she felt very much “out of her comfort zone.” That Shabbos, nearly the whole Shabbos, she couldn’t wait until Shabbos was over.
This 22-year-old young accomplished woman had no connection to Judaism that Shabbos.
However, little did she know that after Shabbos, she would change her life’s course, because only after Shabbos would she then find the pathway to her inner-essence that she was seeking, and that connection would not be through a “shmoiling” Shabbos at some kiruv retreat; rather, it would be through tefilla.

It was the morning following that warm, boring, sticky Shabbos that this particular young lady found herself up and dressed and following 20-something year old other young ladies dressed in long skirts and long shirts to a thing called “davening,” which was to take place in the dining hall at 8:30am.
On her walk to “davening,” she felt a little out of place, dressed in flip fops, an army-patterned mini skirt, and a black tank top, but was glad she was dressed appropriately for summer and didn’t understand why these Jewish girls looked like Amish folk or even Mormon women. It was “weird.” When she arrived at the dining hall, never in her life did she see such a sight.

There it was: the dining hall. A simple room with simple folding tables and equally simple folding chairs. Although the room felt“simple,” nothing taking place in this room was “simple.” Instead, it was majestic, regal, powerful, inspirational, and most importantly, enlightening. The room had an aura of spirituality that excited the 22-year old. Never in her life did she feel her heart gladly open wide to such an unknown. Never in her life did she see a woman pray, did she see a person have such a personal connection with God, did she know that one could have such a relationship. It was at that moment that the void that she felt inside, the years of trying to discover herself, trying to find her identity, trying to encounter the purpose of life….suddenly made sense.
The life of those grossly dressed 20-something year olds might have been so foreign to her…not being super athletic, not listening to the latest music, not going out dancing and so forth….but it was those young religious women in that dining hall on that kiruv retreat moving slowly back and forth, eyes closed, lips in a fast silent whisper, tears streaming down cheeks, who changed her…solely by their actions of prayer. It was those women, who fervently held their siddurs on top of their palms and with closed eyes read words that opened their hearts. Never in her life did she see such an internal emotional response with a book. Never in her world of endless opportunities did she find a reaction that would be the ultimate “high,” a connection that would lead to an energy that no basketball game, pop song, or hip hop dance could satisfy. This image of watching Jewish girls daven was, in fact, for this young lady, more than just an image. This image was an imprint that would forever stick to her soul. This image would complete her self-being. This image would soon serve as her purpose.

The girl watched in silence as the others prayed that day. In that moment, she knew that she had found her calling. She knew that to callherself “Jewish” was one thing, but to actually “be” Jewish was another. And from then on, all she wanted was that same bond that those religious women had with G-d. It was a magnetic force, drawing her in.

In the coming weeks, she realized that the more she ran away from the image of the women in their prayer, the less she belonged, and the more she felt lost and confused. However, the more the image of watching the girls daven repeated in her mind…the way they swayed, cried, and whispered….the more she felt at peace, the more she felt complete.

She dropped it all…her job, her friends, and her family. She was on a mission. The only way she was going to feel complete, was to discover and connect with G-d through prayer. She immediately left it all in America, and found herself again in Israel, this time with a newfound purpose. This time she knew how to find her “birthright.”

It took her one month to learn ashrei. It took her another month to learn Shemoneh Esrei. She learned each line, every word, very slowly. She had 3 tutors, who would work with her many hours a day. She desired to absorb each phrase, in Hebrew, in English, the meaning, and the understanding. She wanted to internalize everything. The magnetic force was intensifying, and she knew she was on the brink of something big….the ultimate connection, which was a relationship with G-d through prayer. She read many books, with her highlighter, with her pencil and notebook close at hand. She was determined. Finally, it was time.

The image of the girls davening stayed close to her heart. The power of prayer that she had rigorously embraced over the past 2 months stayed even closer. She was ready.

It was up the long hill, above rechov Hakablan, on the fourth floor of building 2 of the Neve Yerushalayim campus in Har Nof where she found herself in front of a concrete wall in November of that same year. It had been 3 months since her first Shabbos back in August at the kiruv retreat. She now wore closed toe black flats, a floral patterned skirt, a light pink three quarter top that reached up to her neck, and stockings. She felt alive. She felt almost magical. She had enthusiastically embraced this new beginning, this wonderful journey into her self-discovery with Judaism. And it was about to culminate with what she was about to do in that very moment. With the image imprinted in her soul, she took 3 steps back and 3 steps forward. She felt the sense to move…as if she was being lifted to reach the top of a cliff and her hand was out. She could nearly taste the concrete on the wall before her. Her fingers felt the delicate old binding of a random siddur she had found. She swayed. She spoke each word, silently. She internalized every word’s meaning. She cried. She praised. She thanked. She hoped for only more blessings…for an even deeper connection…for radiance…for happiness….for love….for life. She, in that moment, gave of herself…she gave everything, all her emotions, all her feelings, all her anxieties…she gave everything…her focus, her breadth, her eyesight, the pumping of her circulating blood. She gave her mind, body, and soul in that moment…and it was truly life-changing. It was majestic. It was meaningful. It was self-defining.

This girl never lost the image of the other young women. She thinks of it every day. It’s her push. It was the impetus to her beginnings in Yiddishkeit, and seemingly, she reflects upon it often.
Although it’s been nearly ten and a half years since her first Shabbos…she never misses a day of connecting with G-d through prayer. She continues to find G-d in everything that she does. She continues to talk and speak with G-d, through words and thoughts. She continues to recognize Him, everywhere. Tefilla was her first drive into Judaism. Tefilla filled the void in her relationship with Judaism. Tefilla keeps her daily connected to Judaism.
And well, the girl…the girl became something of herself. She now has the most wonderful husband and is so thankful for her children. She davens for all of them. And the girl’s family continues to support her and loves her unconditionally for all who she is and all that she does. And the girl, not only found “herself” through this journey, but also has continued to spread her inspiration onto others….even on a Wednesday night at this Bais Yaakov.

Because this story is not just a story about any girl. This story is my story, and for the first time, I am proud to share it with you.

Because that 22-year-old all-American girl, is now a 33-year-old all-American “Jewish” woman.A wife.A mother.A daughter.A teacher.A friend. That woman knows more about tefilla than you think…because that woman lives with the image of tefilla every day. That woman became religious because of watching girls, like you, pray. That woman now understands what it means to be Jewish, and with all her might and all her soul, revisits that relationship with G-d daily. That woman recognizes that 6 weeks ago when she was asked to speak on May 13th about tefilla, it was for a reason that only G-d knows of…but she knew it was for a reason, because G-d has a plan for everything and everyone.

Tefilla may be the most channeling act to love and to trust in Hashem’s ways, but we do it because like our parents, we love and trust them.

Prayer is like a portal to progress, to positivity, to potential…

You may not understand or internalize the words you whisper to Hashem. You may have your own way of communicating and connecting with Him. But at the end of the day, know that Hashem is listening. Hashem hears. Hashem sees. Hashem knows your intentions. Hashem watches your actions.

When I first heard the story of Chana, I was mesmerized by her connection to Hashem. Chana suffered. We all suffer…one time or another. Chana internalized her pain. She deeply desired a child. She cried and cried. And then, she set out to do something about it. She was fed up with the tears. She was jealous of other women who had children. However, she found herself powerless to effect change. But then, she decided to take action.
I see it daily. You may find yourself upset. You may find yourself angry. At people.At life. So you hide. You shut your door, and curl up in your bed, and become a victim to your thoughts. And you cry.
Behaving like this may seem natural at the time, but it is also poisonous. It is toxic.
In life, you have to be proactive. Chana was fed up with the moping, and said to herself that if Hashem would not come to her, she would go to Hashem. Chana, quietly and resolutely, brought herself to the mishkan in Shiloh, and engaged in a very personal and private prayer. Chana “midaberes al liba.” Chana spoke to and within her heart. She davened for a son, and vowed to dedicate this child to Hashem.
Hashem gives you exactly what you need. Chana understood this. Chana said, “El Hana’arHazehHispallalti.” She said,“For ‘this’ boy I davened.” Chana was very connected to this child that she davened for. She wasn’t focused on having a child superstar, a genius, or a miracle son. She felt that Hashem would give her what she needed, and through prayer, through her deep connection with Hashem, through her slowly moving silent lips, through her powerfully guided tefillos, her actions were met with the birth of a son.

You see, you call out to Hashem. Sometimes He responds. Sometimes He doesn’t. But He’s listening. He is always listening to your tefillos.

If you don’t foster your relationship with Hashem…If you don’t treasure it….If you don’t seek it out every day….how can you build a connection with the Almighty? How can a bond blossom without effort?

May we all experience the ability and opportunity to deepen our understanding of tefilla, to engage in sincere prayer, and like Chana and myself, to learn how to become partners with Hashem in shaping and creating a meaningful personal destiny, this year and always.