In this week's Torah portion of Chayei Sarah, we meet Yitzchak at a very tender moment. He has just undergone two very traumatic and life-changing experiences.



He experienced being bound up by his father on Mount Moriah. After that traumatic and soul searing experience, he sets off on his own to gather his thoughts and determine his direction. Breishit 22:19: "So Abraham returned unto his young men, and they rose up and went together to Beer-Sheva; and Abraham dwelt at Beer-Sheva."



Abraham returned, but Yitzchak did not. He went off to be on his own and to contemplate what he was to understand and glean from what he had experienced. This experience is followed by the death of his mother, Sarah.



We meet with Yitzchak again as Eliezer, Avraham's servant, brings Rebecca to meet him. Breishit 24:
61 "And Rebecca arose, and her maidens, and they rode upon the camels, and followed the man. And the servant took Rebecca, and went his way. 62 And Yitzchak came from the way of Beer-lahai-ro'i; for he dwelt in the land of the South. 63 And Yitzchak went out to meditate in the field at the eventide; and he lifted up his eyes, and saw, and, behold, there were camels coming.
After two traumatic events, we encounter Yitzchak in prayer within the fields. Prayer for Yitzchak is less a way to change what has occurred than a way to find comfort, strength and direction. It is Yitzchak, our sages tell us, who introduced the Mincha, or midday, prayers. These are prayers that do not begin the day nor end them. These are prayers that provide strength and direction in the middle of the day, in the midst of the voyage.



In the recent past, great concern was raised regarding the state of the souls of our children. What would be the condition of their spirit after witnessing the destruction and exile of Jewish communities by other Jews? Young souls were inevitably seared by watching youngsters crying out in front of an empty Torah scroll ark. Their vision had to be scarred by watching parents looking down at their children's questioning eyes and having nothing to answer. Their youthful ideals had to be battered by watching members of Israel's Defense Forces looking away or hiding behind sunglasses so they would not meet the gaze of the Jews they were sending into exile.



The concern was focused on trying to determine how our young people would overcome the trauma and re-align their faith after experiencing such a crisis.



Yet, for the most part, that concern was misplaced.



These young people are not trying to realign their faith in light of the crisis, they are realigning the crisis in light of their faith. As Rabbi Soleveitchik once described, in his brilliant article "Kol Dodi Dofek": Jews do not ask "Why?" after a tragedy. They ask "What is this for, what must I learn from it?"



When the young people of this land, the carriers of the banners of orange, gathered together in Binyanei HaUmah or in Sacher Park, it was obvious that their passion had not ebbed. In fact, it seemed as if the fires of that passion were stoked further. These young people had tender souls wounded by their experience, but they were determined to enable those souls to be healed.



At a recent wedding, one of the rabbis officiating repeated a thought I had heard countless times before. Yet, this time, the simple and powerful truth of the statement captured me for a while. Under the Chuppah, Rabbi Eliezer Melamed, the Rosh Yeshivah of Har Bracha, said that our sages tell us that the marriage of each couple signifies the laying of another stone in the rebuilding of the Temple. Each new household that is strengthened by faith and hope for the unfolding of Divine destiny is essentially a rebuilding out of ruins.



I sensed that every individual was seized by that simple truth, as well, as it seemed to have impacted the passions and joyfulness of the rest of the wedding celebrations. We were not only celebrating the wedding of these two wonderful young people, we were also reconstructing vision, reestablishing direction and rebuilding Divine purpose. The young people danced with a fervor that overtook us all.



We are in the midst of a time of great upheaval. The world is experiencing it, in a very physical sense. We in Israel are seeing it played out in our struggle for leadership in this country. It is a time of great uncertainty and a time of much action and striving, but it must be a time of focus and prayer.



One of the Torah pamphlets distributed amongst all the synagogues focuses on young people and is called Olam Katan - A Small World. In a previous issue, the editors had asked the young people to submit what they found to be "the most beloved part of prayer."



The answers were both instructive and very moving. One of the expelled young people from Ganei Tal talked about his love for the time for individual, personal prayer, the Amidah. One girl focused on the prayer Barchi Nafshi - "My soul blesses HaShem". One boy quoted the prayer, "He will open our hearts to Your Torah... and unify our hearts to love and serve Your Name."



One girl with great insight said that she deeply connects to the blessing, "Blessed is He Who fashions light and creates darkness...." The blessing is based on a verse in Isaiah (45:7) wherein G-d says, "I form the light, and create darkness; I make peace, and create evil; I am HaShem, that doeth all these things."



These words carry deep truth for our time. All that occurs in this world has the potential to draw us deeper into our connection to the Divine. That was the deep understanding this young girl perceived. The good and the bad are the opposing forces that guide and direct our prayers. The traumas and the challenges are opportunities for reflection and growth.



Prayer, after all, is not about changing G-d's mind. It is about the experience of us being changed in the midst of prayer.



In the midst of the challenges and traumas that we have all experienced, we need to realize that the Jewish people are now heavily in the process of being changed.