It Feels Good To Be Needed
Avodah Zarah 6
Our Gemara on amud beis continues its discussion of various commercial exchanges prohibited during an idolatrous holiday period. One reason given is that if a pagan is pleased with a business transaction, this might prompt him to offer thanksgiving to his deity, thereby implicating the Jew in a form of idolatrous enabling.
This prohibition even extends to borrowing items from a pagan. The Gemara asks:
Granted, it is prohibited to lend the items to them, as this causes them to have a profit. But why is it prohibited to borrow the items from them during this period? Doesn’t this serve to reduce for them the property they possess during the festival?
One answer given is that the pagan is gratified by the mere fact that the Jew is dependent upon him. Even though no money changes hands, the pagan takes pleasure in his ability to lend.
There are two ways to understand the root of his joy – one less noble than the other. He might simply enjoy the feeling of dominance, reveling in his enemy’s need for his resources. As it says in Mishlei (25:21-22): “If your enemy is hungry give him bread, if he is thirsty, give him water… It will feel like heaping hot coals on his head.”
However, this strikes me as too psychologically sophisticated for the average pagan. If he truly sought domination, wouldn’t he refuse to lend – or better yet, charge an exploitative price?
I believe, rather, that the pagan’s joy is more altruistic and universal: It feels good to be needed. Humans are hardwired to derive pleasure from being relevant and useful to others. Lending an item is not only a show of strength, but also a socially rewarding act. It gives one status, community belonging, and an oxytocin-drenched dopamine kick from knowing he is part of the social fabric.
As Pardede and Kovac note:
The need to form positive social connections and relatedness is universal and fundamental… The need to belong is so potent that some people paradoxically prefer to be in a group of strangers than to be alone.
Similarly, Grant and Gino write in Journal of Personality and Social Psychology:
When individuals experience social worth, they feel that their actions matter in other people’s lives… which confers a sense of belongingness.”
This insight has powerful implications. The cultural glorification of victimhood and grievance culture is not only socially corrosive – it undermines a fundamental human need to give, not just to receive. It breeds depression, entitlement, and disconnection from society. In contrast, people engaged in communal and religious life, such as shluchim and chinuch families, often find deep satisfaction in sacrifice. Their children are raised within a context of contribution and belonging, which offsets what may be lacking from the “American dream.”
In a balanced and nurturing environment, sacrifice enhances rather than detracts from quality of life. Even a “dumb” pagan seems to intuit this truth better than some of the intellectuals leading our cultural narratives.
Praise Before You Petition: Aim Before You Pray
Avodah Zarah 7
Our Gemara on amud beis teaches the proper structure of prayer:
Rabbi Simlai taught: A person should always set forth praise of G-d, and only then pray for his own needs.
This is learned from Moshe Rabbeinu, who first praises Hashem in Devarim 3:24 before asking to enter Eretz Yisrael in the following verse.
At first glance, this seems to mirror royal etiquette: You don’t barge in asking for favors – you first offer honor. But that can’t be the whole story. When we relate to Hashem, we are not merely replicating courtly manners; rather, we are engaging in a spiritual process with ontological truths behind it.
Scientific thought often asks, “What is this?” while religious thought also asks, “Why is this?” If G-d ordained a particular sequence, there must be meaning within it.
Rav Kook, in Olas Re’iyah (Introduction, Hadrachas Tefillah), teaches that prayer is an encounter with the Infinite. In order for tefillah to have effect, the person must properly apprehend and connect to the Divine essence. If one’s concept of G-d is flawed, the prayer is “misdialed” – sent to the wrong address.
According to Rav Kook, praising G-d is not for His sake, but for ours. It is a preparatory act of contemplative meditation that aligns our minds and souls to become vessels for Divine influence. Only once one has entered that elevated state of awe and presence can prayer truly pierce the physical veil and affect reality.
Tzidkas HaTzaddik (§223) notes that when Yaakov Avinu declared that he acquired land with his “sword and bow” (Bereishis 48:22), Onkelos interprets this to mean prayer and supplication. The Netziv and Meshech Chochma expand on this imagery: The sword represents close-range action – praise that initiates the approach. The bow, aimed from afar, is the supplication that follows – now guided and refined.
The Right To Remain Prayerful
Avodah Zarah 8a
Our Gemara on amud aleph outlines the framework for personal supplication during the Amidah:
The halacha is that one may request personal needs during the blessing of “Shomeah Tefillah.” However, if he desires, he may include personal requests in each blessing that matches its theme.
Implicit in this ruling is a theological tension: What gives us the right to bring our petty, personal concerns into an encounter with the Divine? Shouldn’t prayer focus solely on praise, awe, and reflection?
The Gemara in Chullin 60b helps resolve this:
The vegetation lay dormant in the earth until Adam prayed for rain… G-d desires the prayers of the righteous.
Still, Rav Chaim Volozhin in Nefesh HaChaim (II:11) offers a sobering caveat. Though it is halachically permissible to pray for our needs, that should not be the primary purpose of prayer – especially for a person of integrity and a proper heart.
Rav Chaim offers a powerful mashal: If a surgeon needs to amputate a limb to save your life, would it be appropriate – or respectful – to beg him not to? Similarly, if we believe Hashem engineers our circumstances for our ultimate good, what does it mean to ask Him to undo them?
Yet this is not a rejection of personal supplication, only a reframing. Before praying, one must internalize that all events are Divinely orchestrated for our benefit. Only then can a person sincerely say, “I accept Your plan, but I beg You to help me better serve You within it.” Rav Chaim even hints at the mystical idea that when Klal Yisrael suffers, the Shechina suffers too. Thus, our pain becomes a cosmic concern.
This perspective transforms prayer from a wish list into a mission statement: “Please help me, not because I deserve it, but because I want to serve You more effectively.”
And this brings us full circle to the insight from Rav Kook in Olas Re’iyah that we quoted in our discussion of Avodah Zarah daf 7. Only after we have praised and meditated upon the greatness of Hashem can our prayers become meaningful. Petty concerns, if left in their undeveloped state, are like poorly aimed arrows. But when refracted through the lens of Divine wisdom, they take on deeper meaning – and may even change the decree.
