On ordinary weekdays, a private meditation called Tachanun is added to the service. It is meant to guide us in offering our most personal and private supplications to G-d, our prayers for help and mercy. On Monday and Thursday, we introduce Tachanun with a powerful prayer called the long V’hu Rachum. Rabbi Hayim Halevy Donin describes it as “surely the saddest and most touching part of the prayer book.”
The question is why? I had always associated it with the anti-Semitic oppression our ancestors faced. Rabbi Donin picks up on this theme: “The words vividly reflect a people’s indescribable suffering and daily agony.” And taking that issue to the next level, our people’s exile in this world has always been seen in our tradition as a reflection of our exile on a spiritual plain.
So, for example, an excerpt of the text reads, “Patient G-d, abundant in love and faithfulness, help us with Your great compassion; save us from rage and from wrath.” I had always interpreted this passage as referring to the rage and wrath of the “savages du jour,” whether the crusaders, or the inquisitors, or the pogromists, etc. And that, in turn, could be seen as a reflection of the divine rage and wrath caused by the sinfulness of our people, who betray the G-d Who loves them.
But just today, another thought came to me. When you look carefully at the text (in English or in Hebrew) the source of the rage and wrath is deliberately not mentioned. It could have said, “the rage and wrath of the evildoers” or something similar. If instead G-d was the focus of concern, the text would have read, “Your rage and wrath.” But what the text actually says is “save us from rage and from wrath.” Perhaps, the focus is not on external enemies or divine authorities, but rather on ourselves. Save me from feeling rage. Save me from feeling wrath.
And that would be a prayer worthy of serious consideration. Thinking of what our ancestors went through, we could easily imagine them being filled with rage and wrath. To this day, I have trouble participating in Yom Hashoah or Tisha B’av services because I get so angry (much more angry than sad). But if that rage and wrath had become all-consuming, our ancestors would have led a life of raw bitterness. So it’s quite possible that what they were praying for was equanimity, a sense of balance in a profoundly unbalanced world. It was bad enough that we were being devoured from the outside. To devour ourselves with rage and wrath from the inside would only make matters much worse.
Of course, it’s not easy to conquer such powerful emotions. But that’s precisely where G-d’s patience, love, faithfulness, and compassion come into the picture. That is why we pray.