A Tale of Two Intentions: Rabbinic Prayer and Modern Subjectivity

Abstract

When was the modern ‘self’ born? This question lies at the heart of major debates by contemporary historians and philosophers. What does rabbinic thought have to do with such questions? This essay examines a pivotal debate in modern rabbinic thought concerning the nature of intentionality in prayer. The analysis centers on R. Chaim Soloveichik of Brisk’s (1853–1918) revolutionary distinction between two forms of intention in prayer. R. Chaim argued that the conscious experience of divine presence is conditional to define prayer. By tracing the precedents and critics of this idea, this essay is an exercise in the unwritten history of rabbinic subjectivity.

והמלה היא כגוף, והענין הוא כנפש…

והדבר צריך למציאות הענין, ואין הענין צריך לדבר.

(ר’ ישראל מטולדו, ספר מצוות זמניות, הל’ קריאת שמע)

The word is as the body; the meaning, its soul.

Speech cannot do without sense—but sense has no need of speech.

(R. Israel Israeli, Sefer Mitzvot Zemaniot)

1. Introduction: Rabbinic Ritual and the Philosophy of Mind

In his magnum opus The Sages: Their Concepts and Beliefs, Ephraim Elimelech Urbach (1912–1991), a notable Israeli Talmudist, made only one short discussion of intention in ritual practices. For him, this question reflects a general dilemma in religion and morals:

The problem the rabbis faced is familiar to every religion and moral system. Is there any point to human behavior, to observe moral and religious laws as fixed and permanent acts, without giving them inner meaning? Some people argue: this is merely ‘human conduct made by rote’, actions that are purely external and lack any inner feeling… they contain only corruption and should be abandoned. On the other hand, we know that not everyone can consistently maintain that high level of intentional and consciously motivated behavior. Religions and idealistic groups—which started with the clear aim to observe their ideals alive in daily life, and which rejected performing acts without inner belief—experienced not only a weakening of commitment but also… a complete rejection of obligations.

(Urbach 1969, pp. 344–45)

Urbach views rabbinic concerns through a Protestant theological lens. For him, all institutional religions confront an identical predicament: the inner conflict between communal conformity and personal experience in ritual performance. An adherent to Protestant thought, Urbach believed that the essential core of religion lies in faith rather than ritual or law. But a strong emphasis on intentionality might cause social disaster. Such a high spiritual standard might be achievable within a small elite circle or sectarian group but becomes impractical when applied to the general population. It has a potential radical outcome—the complete antinomian abandonment of religious norms.

Urbach’s remarks are sharp and coherent. They fit modern notions of religion. Moreover, they successfully translate ancient rabbinic questions into secular oppositions used in psychology (conformity vs. sincerity) and sociology of religion (sect vs. mass movement). However, they fail to explain some internal features of rabbinic mental discourse. One failure was explicitly articulated by Urbach himself. He noted that the general question of whether the practice of commandments demands a particular mental state (or intention) was asked quite late in the history of rabbinic literature (Urbach 1969, p. 347). The true nature of rabbinic discourse on intentionality remains unknown.

In an article written some years ago, Ishay Rosen-Zvi - another Israeli Talmudist - questioned the so-called ‘mental’ revolution of ancient rabbinic law. He argued that although ancient rabbis used a nuanced mental vocabulary in multiple legal contexts, they had a ‘thin’ conception of mind, embodied and visualized by bodily gestures. Unlike Greek philosophers, ancient rabbis did not think of the self as independent of their body:

Rabbinic ‘thoughts’ are subject to the laws of the external world. They are concerned with prohibitions and commandments, not with truth statements… The self-created in these sources is intimately connected to the legal discourse and is formed along with the law. Understanding this self thus cannot be disconnected from the halakhic context; nor can Halakhah be seen as but a medium for the exposure of the rise of the subjective.

(Rosen-Zvi 2015, p. 45)

Rosen-Zvi combines three claims. First, unlike philosophers, rabbis have no systematic philosophy of mind, but only scattered ideas. Second, rabbinic observations of mental dynamics are not mere facts but legal fiction. Their function is rather performative than descriptive. This claim draws on the sharp distinction between norms and facts (‘truth statements’). Third, the true motive of rabbinic mental observation is to regulate ritual practice. The conclusion is clear-cut. Rabbinic statements have no philosophical or empirical value, because they were not intended to describe the human world as is, but rather to transform it from within. Any claim that rabbinic folk psychology anticipated modern notions of the self would be simply anachronistic.

I fully endorse the first and third claims. Nevertheless, I need to modify the second claim for my analysis. Rosen-Zvi argues that despite rhetoric, the practical motive of rabbinic psychology eliminates its descriptive claim. In my view, this claim is too extreme. Alongside with practical instructions and standards, rabbis also suggested some ‘facts and truths on human behavior. The question should be what the true legal functions of such descriptions are, unlike other forms of legal discourse.

The scholarly debate on the true nature of rabbinic self should be contextualized by larger trends in the philosophy of mind. In his lectures in the Collège de France, French philosopher Alain De Libera distinguished between two models of body–mind nexus in western philosophy—what he called substantialism vs. attributivism. Substantialism includes each doctrine that perceives the mind as reality of its own. By contrast, attributivism includes each doctrine that sees the soul only as a property or disposition of body. A particular nuance of attributivism (which De Libera called ‘Attributivism*’) is physicalism, which maintains complete correspondence between physical and mental states (De Libera 2014, pp. 76–87; See also in much more detail, De Libera 2007, pp. 125–207). De Libera’s main motive was historical. He wished to rethink modern theories considering their ancient and medieval precedents. His main question remained the same—when the modern self was born, and what does it mean to the history of philosophy.

Every theory articulates the body–mind nexus in its own manner. However, what makes De Libera’s model more sophisticated than others is the fact it is built as a dynamic matrix, sensitive to multiple classifications. Consider Cartesian dualism: it is fundamentally substantialist yet simultaneously maintains a physicalist account of dualist relations. Augustine, by contrast, developed his own dualist framework without any physicalist explanation. Medieval thought presents far greater complexity. To categorize a thinker like Averroes depends on whether we examine human soul or intellect. His view that certain aspects of human soul constitute the body’s ‘form’ is clearly attributivist; yet his conception of intellect as a substance distinct from both body and soul is decidedly substantialist.

De Libera’s classification illuminates the implicit debate between Urbach and Rosen-Zvi. Both scholars identify certain ‘noble lies’ in rabbinic perceptions of mind. Urbach argues that while rabbinic discourse conceals (or suppresses) intentionality’s significance, human nature demonstrates that intentionality constitutes the true essence of religion. This position presupposes a substantialist view of subjectivity, where rituals derive meaning exclusively from individual experience. Rosen-Zvi contends that rabbinic language deceives modern readers to believe they share the same self-perception with ancient rabbis. His critique presumes an attributivist conception of religion, embodied by disciplinary practice.

Thus, historical debates about rabbinic law rest on philosophical debates about human nature. However, the two sides are not equal. While Urbach assumes that mind is not necessarily a historical contingent, Rosen-Zvi assumes it must be. The logic is straightforward. Following Foucault (For example Foucault (1988)), Rosen-Zvi maintains that self-perception emerges through practice. If practices transform, so do the selves they create.

This article attempts to complete the historical picture drawn by Rosen-Zvi—to trace some evidence of a new subjectivity within modern rabbinic discourse on prayer. It focuses on a peculiar example: a modern legal argument advanced by R. Chaim Soloveichik of Brisk (1853–1918), one of the most influential figures in the history of modern rabbinic academies. The argument differentiates between two forms of intention—more precisely, two categories of intentionality—in prayer. I argue that this argument reflects a new spiritual sensibility, which transforms the rabbinic notion of intentionality into modern subjectivity.

R. Chaim argued that prayer must satisfy one formal condition: the experience of divine presence. This experience, which could be viewed as a superior spiritual achievement, became legal obligation. This shift may indicate a broader religious transformation where personal experience becomes an obligatory legal condition. I believe this reveals the genuine nature of Jewish ‘orthodoxy’ (instead of ‘orthopraxis’): a dogmatic religious attitude focused on mental rather than purely physical discipline.

The essay contains six sections of unequal length. Initially, I present R. Chaim’s distinction and its medieval origins. Then, I examine the severe response to this distinction by R. Avraham Yeshayahu Karelitz (known as Hazon Ish, 1878–1953). I outline both his critique of R. Chaim and his unexpected employment of a related distinction elsewhere. Afterwards, I describe some of the hidden cultural contexts of this debate. In conclusion, I observe the historical transformation evident by R. Chaim’s distinction, which connects reflection on obedience with attention during prayer.

2. R. Chaim’s Argument: An Abstract

R. Chaim Soloveichik’s argument is straightforward. Following his typical approach, he begins with a textual problem. He displays a seeming textual inconsistency between two legal decisions. This inconsistency functions as an exegetical mechanism for developing a novel academic resolution. Such conceptual distinction is not mentioned in the source text.

In our case, R. Chaim begins by noting an apparent contradiction between two rulings in Maimonides’ notable legal code, Mishneh Torah. in Hilkhot Tefillah 4:15, one reads that “any prayer without kavanah is not prayer”; yet in 10:1, the law states that if one had kavanah during the first blessing, repetition is unnecessary. R. Chaim resolves the tension with a clear and pointed formulation: there are two distinct types of kavanah in prayer—verbal understanding, and mental reflection of divine presence:

[א] ואם אין לבו פנוי ואינו רואה את עצמו שעומד לפני ד’ ומתפלל, אין זה מעשה תפלה,

[ב] והרי הוא בכלל מתעסק דאין בו דין מעשה.

[ג] ועל כן מעכבת כוונה זו בכל התפלה, דבמקום שהיה מתעסק דינו כלא התפלל כלל….

[a] If his heart is not free and he does not see himself as standing before God1 and praying, this is not an act of prayer.

[b] Behold he is included in the category of mitasek for there is no law of action in it.

[c] Therefore, this intention is indispensable throughout the entire prayer, for in a place where one was mitasek his status is as if he did not pray at all…

(Soloveitchik 1936, p. 1)

R. Chaim stresses that both intentions hold distinct legal standing. Verbal understanding proves useful but not required. By contrast, prayer lacking direct divine experience becomes worthless. The consequences are remarkable. One could conceive an extreme situation involving a layman who understands nothing he says but maintains total concentration on visualizing divine presence. The awareness of divine presence during prayer represents a mandatory legal condition. It represents both the ideal mental state of prayer and its inner essence.

R. Chaim’s distinction thus invites closer scrutiny. Beneath its surface lie three distinct claims:

• Intentionality: Distraction prevents the practitioner’s perception of divine presence in prayer. Nevertheless, this mental state determines a clear legal status, achieved by formal definition. Accordingly, rituals undertaken without ‘correct’ mental disposition are considered legally void.
• Automata: Such cases fall under the category of mit’asek—acting without deliberate intent. Inappropriate mental disposition becomes equivalent to complete absence of any intentionality. This notion derives from sacrificial terminology. According to Naphtali Goldstein (Goldstein 1977, pp. 40–41, 52), biblical perception of sacrifice distinguishes itself from pagan counterparts through its pronounced emphasis on intentionality. The priest must remain conscious that he executes divinely ordained commands.
• Nullity and Fiction: According to the preceding assertion, an automatic action is equivalent to non-action. This suggests that reflection defines the real essence of prayer. Its absence signifies that nothing happened—no ritual was practiced at all.

R. Chaim’s distinction presents an elaborate sequence of formalist differentiations. A prayer lacking intention fails to meet required legal criteria. It qualifies as mechanical behavior and is treated as legally non-existent. R. Chaim’s condemnation of automatism was made by analogy between prayer and sacrifice. Sacrifice derives its supreme value exclusively from the practitioner’s mental condition. Rituals concern obedience to commands, but this requires conscious awareness during performance.

These claims represent three facets of legal formalism. The formal view of law scrutinizes events and actions in the real world against the mandatory criteria of written law. This idea could be observed by a closer examination of Brisker terminology.

A common expression in the Brisker method is ‘halot shem’. This term resembles the philosophical concept of reference (Bedeutung),2 denoting the relationship between concepts and actual objects. However, it embodies a formalist perspective. The mere occurrence of an event does not guarantee legal consequences. Examining this issue requires articulating rigid legal criteria. The same principle applies to actions. Briskers frequently differentiate between action (ma’aseh) and passive existence (kiyum) or execution. Real-world practice receives formal recognition only when it satisfies inflexible legal standards.

Although R. Chaim’s distinction lacks the highly formalist terminology developed by his students, it shares the same conceptual scheme and motives. The task of conceptual abstraction is a linguistic exercise of sense and reverence—whether certain natural objects in the real world can be categorized under certain halakic concepts.

While R. Chaim’s arguments are formalist, his conception of subjectivity is fundamentally substantialist. He attributes supreme importance to intentionality that lacks explicit verbal expression in prayer. The core of ritual resides not in bodily actions but solely in individual mind. The whole apparatus of worship relies on the interplay between attention, reflection and obedience.

The construction is clear: true attention is identical with self-aware obedience.

3. Dim Knowledge: Hazon Ish’s Critique and His Own Variation

R. Chaim’s distinction was attacked by his notable opponent—the Hazon Ish. His response is a brief note on the margins of his own personal copy of R. Chaim’s novelties on Maimonides. In a few words, Hazon Ish made a sharp critique of the distinction. He attacked both its exegetical role and its mental implications:

זהו דבר שאי אפשר, שבשעה שמתעשת ולבו מהרהר בדבר מן הדברים—ודאי יש כאן היסח הדעת מכוונה…

וכל אדם העומד להתפלל לא שייך בו מתעסק, דלעולם יש בו ידיעה כהה שהוא תפלה לפניו יתברך, אלא שאין לבו ער כל כך ובידיעה קלושה סגי דיעבד, אלא שאינה רצויה ומקובלת כל כך…

This is inconceivable. When one becomes truly conscious and deeply considers a matter, there is evidently some a distraction of intention…

Anyone who is about to pray is not relevant [to treat him] as an agent that acts automatically. There is always a dim knowledge that they pray before the Almighty. While their heart may not be fully engaged. A minimal awareness suffices ex post facto, though such prayer is not as favorably received….

(Karelitz 1974, p. 1)

Hazon Ish formulates his argument in two stages. First, he attacks the primary distinction between attention and verbal understanding. He has a twofold critique. Verbal understanding should be regarded as some sort of reflection. But this raises a serious mental problem. An agent who will always think the exact meaning of his words—‘when one becomes truly conscious and deeply considers a matter’—will almost be paralyzed by an obsessive practice anxiety. Verbal understanding causes distraction not because of its irrelevance, but rather because it could seduce one to think instead of talking.

This picture is fully revealed only at the end. The Hazon Ish insists that the legal notion of an automatic agent is irrelevant to liturgy. His defense is based on psychological observation. Each individual agent is aware of his situation in prayer. He has some sort of dim knowledge (lit. an ‘obscure recognition’) of a divine presence, involved in his practice. This fits the basic idea of prayer as practice of talk, like other bodily rituals. Deep reflection endanger prayer. It needs an alternative mental state to exist.

What is the initial motive of such critique? Certainly, it is not only a technical critique of legal claims or psychological observations. In my view, it reflects an alternative model of human subjectivity—radical attributivism. According to Hazon Ish, mind serves only as an (important) property of the physical body. Prayer, like every ritual practice, constitutes an embodied experience. Beyond each agent having some kind of intention in practice, reflection might impair their ability to perform—to pray properly. Against R. Chaim’s concept of obedience via reflection, Hazon Ish reconfigures the same mental components. Certainly, he agreed that personal experience in prayer is legally needed. Yet, this experience is embodied within attention during practice. Reflection compromises attention (For similar discussion with different emphasis (see Brown 2011, pp. 352–57)).

These ideas on tacit knowledge in practice may remind us of Michael Polanyi’s insights on the role of tacit knowledge in scientific expertise (Polanyi 1958, pp. 49–58, 104–20). Polanyi insisted that despite their claims to be reflective, skilled scientists often do not know exactly what they are doing. They often share the same methods and habits to such an extent that they cannot reflect on them. The loss of reflection is the ultimate achievement of each practitioner. Accordingly, reflection has an inherent potential to cause performance anxiety.

However, few rabbinic scholars (one exception is Brown (2011, p. 359)) noticed that although Hazon Ish sharply criticized R. Chaim’s distinction, he made an alternative version of it, used in a similar yet different context. In his major collection of glosses, organized in the order of the Shulkan Arukh, Hazon Ish discussed at length the relationship between two legal fictions: the principle of ‘The hearer is deemed the speaker’ (שומע כעונה), and the principle of ‘thought as speech’ (הרהור כדיבור).

The initial motive of both fictions is quite clear. They allow collective participation in liturgical practices. Yet, it seems that their inner logic is different. If one needs to imagine each listener as if he speaks, it means that he assumes that liturgy is about mere talk, not thought alone. By contrast, the equivalence between silent meditation and speech may reflect an opposite view—an internalist emphasis on mental content instead of explicit performance. Hazon Ish aimed to reclaim the fiction of thought as speech as follows:

ובעיקר דין הרהור כדיבור, יש לומר שאין הרהור דברים בלבד בכלל, אלא כיון דאיתא תרתי מילי במצות התלויים בדיבור, היינו, הדיבור, וכונת הלב, ובתחלה המצוה שיעשה בשתיהן, ובדיעבד נפיק בלא כוונת הלב, ואף שאין בדברים בלא כונת הלב כלום… מכל מקום כשכיון לדבר יוצא, דכח הדבור אלים למחשב ולמבטל חסרון העדר המחשבה, וכמו שאין דברים שבלב דברים בין אדם לחברו אף אם מכוין הפכו, כמו כן במצוה מחשב הדיבור, וחשיב אף בלא מחשבה…

As for the rule of ‘thought as speech’, it needs to be said that there is no [pure] contemplation alone. Rather, there are two elements in speech-dependent commandments—that is, the speech and the heart’s intention. Initially, the commandment should be executed with both; yet post facto one can fulfill his duty without heart’s intention. Even though words without heart’s intention contain nothing… nonetheless, if he intends to speak—he fulfilled his duty. Since the force of speech is powerful enough to reckon and nullify the lack of absent thought. Just as mental words carry no legal weight in civil law, even when one intends otherwise [than what he said], similarly in ritual law, speech counts even absent thought.

(Karelitz 1994, Sct. 29, 8, p. 44a)

How can we understand the legal fiction of ‘thought as speech’? The Hazon Ish advanced a hypothesis he instantly rejects. Legal fiction is based on legal lacunes, which in turn might expose an ‘empirical’ fact of human behavior. If halakhic fiction alone transforms thought into speech, one could infer that thoughts generally lack verbal expression—that human mind has no inner language, but only abstract ideas.

However, the Hazon Ish refused to accept this factual deduction. He distinguished two legal demands: speech and intention. Which holds greater importance? While intention gives ritual significance, practice assumes superior position through its impact on human mind. Legal fiction reveals an alternative psychological truth. Vocal recitation overcomes distraction effectively. Why? Perhaps it facilitates regaining lost concentration; perhaps speaking demands some intention, however indefinite.

This distinction echoes R. Chaim’s distinction, but their conclusions diverge strikingly. Whereas R. Chaim excludes actual speech without appropriate intention, the Hazon Ish demonstrates greater tolerance for changing intentionality where prayer remains feasible.

4. The Tacit Dimension: Musar and Metaphysics

Hazon Ish’s bodily vision of prayer reflects ancient rabbinic perceptions. However, it draws on a novel notion—the ‘dim’ knowledge embodied in practice. This notion was born in late nineteenth century Lithuania—in the writings of R. Israel Lipkin of Salant (known as R. Israel Salanter, 1809–1883), the father of the Musar movement (This connection was first suggested by Brown (2011, p. 356)).

R. Salanter wished to generate a spiritual renewal of his generation. He thought this would happen only by an intense extension of traditional curriculum from law to morals. His ideas of moral education were based not only on reading, but also on reflection and self-discipline. He perceived daily practice of self-examination as spiritual exercise.

In one of his moral treatises, R. Salanter deals with the Litvak notion of ‘Torah for itself’3—the ideal of theoretical study as an independent purpose, not for merely practical nor educational reasons. He opposed between the intention needed during Torah study and other rituals. To do so, he made a general statement on the relationship between reflection and religious education:

כי אנחנו רואים בכוחות האדם הן הנוגע לשכל, כל לימוד בראשיתו הוא במצב הברור, ובכל זה הולך בכבידות. הנער המתחיל ללמוד עברית, לידע להגיד המלות בתחילה—כמה יתעמל עמו מלמדו להאיר לפניו האותיות, ואחר כך לחבר תיבה שלימה… ואחר כך כשיקנה ההרגל הנצרך לפי תבונתו יקרא במרוצה בלי התבוננות כלל.

הוא אשר נקרא אצל חוקרי כוחות נפשות האדם, כוחות מאירים ברורים או כהים [קלארע און דונקעלע], כן גם בכוחות התפעלות הנפשי, ישנם כוחות מאירים [קלארע] וכהים [דונקעלע]. הכהים המה יותר חזקים, ומוציאים פעולתם בהתעוררת מעט בחוזק יד. אהבת האדם לצאצאיו כהים המה, וכמעט ברוב העתים אינם נרגשים גם להאדם עצמו, ובהתעוררות קטנה—תתלהב לאש בוערת. תאות האדם המה הכהים אשר בלי התעוררת מה, כמעט אינם נרגשים, ולזאת גדול כחם למשול באדם.

לימוד המוסרי יסודו וראשיתו בחינת הברירות בהתפעלות הנפש, ולזאת כמעט ברוב פעמים אין בכחו לעזור נגד התאוה בבחינת הכהה [דונקעלע] החזקה. אכן כמו בלימוד השכלי כל פעם לימוד הברור עושה רושם בבחינת הכהה, אשר בלא זה לא יצטרכו הלימודים להולד בחינת הכהה הגמורה, לידע במרוצה כמעט בלי התבוננות…

We observe that regarding human intellectual faculties, any initial learning starts with clarity yet progresses laboriously. A child beginning to learn Hebrew, initially just to pronounce words, requires immense effort from their teacher to illuminate the letters, and then to combine them into a complete word… Later, once they acquire the necessary proficiency for their understanding, they will read fluently without any conscious thought.

This is what experts of human psychology call clear and dim (lit.: dark) forces. Similarly, within our emotional faculties, there are also clear and dim forces. The dim ones are stronger, and they produce their effects with a slight but powerful arousal.

A person’s love for their offspring, for instance, is dim; it is often not even consciously felt by the individual themselves, yet with a small trigger, it ignites into a burning fire. Human desires are also dim; without any arousal, they are hardly felt, and for that very reason, their power to control a person is immense.

The beginning of moral study lies is to examine the clear aspect of emotional arousal. Therefore, it often lacks the power to help against strong, dim desires. However, just as in intellectual learning, each instance of clear learning leaves an impression on the dim aspect. If not, learning would not need to generate a completely dim aspect to allow for fluent, almost thoughtless comprehension.

(Lipkin 1900, chapter 6, p. 48)

R. Salanter considers education as habituation. Each education is based on mediated or supervised learning, in which the master gradually changes the habits of his students. Skills acquired by apprenticeship, in which reflection is needed only during the first steps of learning. The great achievement of skilled practice is the loss of reflection. The same is true concerning emotions. Their power lies in their tacit dimension. Yet, moral discipline might influence them, just as didactic performance eventually changes the habits of students.

R. Salanter’s observation gives the conceptual framework of Hazon Ish’s critical comment in his gloss. This explains his fear from reflection and enriches our understanding of his view of ritual practice. Like other skills, ritual performance draws on tacit knowledge. Reflection not only harms attention but also signifies its lowest level.

The genealogy of R. Salanter’s psychological terminology is equally remarkable. The distinction between clear and dim forces was probably taken from Immanuel Kant (Leland 2018; Oberhausen 2002; La Rocca 2019). In his Anthropologie (1798) (Kant 1912, I, p. 6), Kant described ‘unconscious’ mental representations (dunkele vorstellungen). He argued that most human concepts are unconscious, blurred with perceptual impressions. This idea is deeply rooted in the philosophy of Leibniz and his disciples. Unlike Descartes, who thought that the soul is always aware of her thoughts, Leibniz argued that there are some unconscious perceptions. Those ideas were developed by some of his disciples—Christian Wolf (1679–1754) and Alexander Gottlieb Baumgarten (1714–1762). Patrick Leland showed how those notions lie at the core of Kant’s earlier writings on epistemology (Leland 2018, pp. 266–76). For him, explicit reflection is what allows the agent to objectify his own thoughts—to make them clear enough for someone else.

Given this idealist classification of mental states, it seems that Hazon Ish judged differently the place of religious belief in human mind. He read his opponent’s claim as if he argued that attention should be examined only by reflection. For him, this claim not only misses the factual situation of prayer. The true power of Halakhic judgment lies in the very fact it affirms multiple mental states of prayer.

5. Two Intentions: A Medieval Precedent?

R. Chaim and the Hazon Ish both differentiated between two legal demands concerning prayer. However, their debate is twofold: normative and empirical. They diverged not only in their legal conceptions of intention but also in the ways they observed distraction. Where does this distinction arise? Was it indeed R. Chaim’s novel innovation? Does it have precedents in the history of Talmudic scholarship, and was R. Chaim aware of them?

To understand the original setting of R. Chaim’s ideas, we must return to medieval Spain—to the school of Nahmanides (1195–1270) and his circle. This school is often characterized as literalist and textualist. Nahmanides presupposed that the Talmud has precise language. This literary expectation guided him to deny the idea a particular kind of intention during prayer. The reason is clear-cut: such idea is not explicitly expressed in Talmudic texts. Instead, the Talmud formed a broader question: whether intention constitutes a universal requirement across all divine commandments.

A veiled yet extremely sharp critique of Nahmanides’ attitude can be found in the writings of his student, R. Solomon ben Abraham Ibn Aderet (known as Rashba, 1240–1310). In one of his responsa, he coined a novel distinction—not between two types of intentionality, but two types of divine laws:

ומדעתי שאין זה תלוי באידך דמצות צריכות כונה או אין צריכות כונה…

דמה שאמרו מצות צריכות כונה—אינו אלא שיכוין לבו לצאת, ולא יעשה כמתעסק בעלמא, וכענין שאמרו בתקיעת שופר ובכפאוהו ואכל מצה. וזה שהתפלל הרי נתכוין לצאת. ואפילו למאן דאמר מצות צריכות כונה יצא בין כיון לבו ולא הרהר בדברים אחרים בתוך תפלתו בין הרהר בדברים אחרים… דמכל מקום הרי נתכוין להתפלל ולצאת ידי חובה.

אלא שהתפלה וקריאת שמע יש בהן כונה אחרת. והיא כונת הלב שלא להרהר בהן בדברים אחרים, כדי שיהיו פיו ולבו שוים בבקשת הרחמים וביחוד ובקבלת עול מלכות שמים ובסדור השבחים…

In my view, this does not depend upon the question of whether commandments require intention…

For what they declared ‘commandments require intention’ signifies merely that one should direct his heart to discharge [his duty], and not perform like one acting mechanically, as in the case they mentioned concerning shofar blowing and ‘they compelled him, and he ate matzah’. Yet this person who prayed has certainly intended to fulfill [his duty]. Even according to him who maintains commandments require intention, he has fulfilled [his obligation] whether he focused his mind and did not contemplate other matters during his prayer or whether he contemplated other matters… for regardless he intended to pray and to fulfill his obligation.

However, prayer and Shema recitation possess a different intention. This is the heart’s intention not to contemplate other matters during them, so that his mouth and heart should be corresponded to ask for mercy, declare divine unity and kingship, and order praise…4

Can we distinguish here between two forms of intention? The simple answer is no. Rashba does not depict two forms of intentions, but rather two forms of legal duty. Rituals demand only to fulfill formal obligations. Self-aware obedience allows one to engage in secular thoughts even during ritual practice. By contrast, liturgy (including not only Amidah but also Shema recitation) contains an affirmative intention. This is the ‘heart’s intention’, that requires absolute attention or reflection. What role does it serve? Rashba provides a definite response. It facilitates sincerity, which is crucial to each liturgical practice—confession, praise, and request.

What is the relation between Rashba’s medieval distinction and R. Chaim’s modern distinction? Are they two equivalent claims, merely formulated in different words? I find this interpretation possible, yet superficial. The difference in rhetoric may reflect an epistemic gap between the two distinctions.

R. Chaim connects obedience with absolute attention. Obedience became the mental content of attention, which in turn became an obligatory condition of prayer. By contrast, Rashba assumes that obedience is relevant only to practical commandments—what is done by bodily organs: mouth, hands, or ears. For him, obedience is the true implicature of ‘intention’ in Talmudic discourse. However, he also intuitively argued that liturgical intention cannot be reduced to mere obedience. Its function is to generate sincerity—to harmonize speech and mind (‘so that his mouth and heart should be correspond’).

Whether R. Chaim was familiar with Rashba’s text is hard to determine. Perhaps he knew a similar notion in the writings of one of the distinguished Talmudists—R. Aryeh Leib Günzburg (1695–1785). R. Günzburg served as rabbi of Metz and ranked among the leading rabbinic personalities of the Enlightenment era.

In his Talmudic commentary, R. Günzburg used Nahmanides’ claim that there are no grounds for differentiating between various forms of intention in Talmudic discourse. Without explicit reference to Rashba’s objection, R. Günzburg articulated the same idea in a different manner:

ואני תמה: מה ענין זה לזה?

דכוונה דהתם קרי לה שם ‘כוונת הלב’, והיינו שיכוון וידע ויבין הדברים שמוצא מפיו. ודבר זה תלוי בכוונת הלב, ואף על פי שאינו מתכווין לצאת…

וכוונה דהכא היינו שמכוין לצאת ידי חובה אותו מצוה, אפילו שאינו משים הדברים על לבו אלא שמפנה לבו לדברים אחרים…

And I wonder: what relevance do these have to one another? For this intention called ‘intention of the heart’, indicating that one should direct and recognize and comprehend the words that proceed from his mouth.

This depends upon the heart’s intention, although he does not intend to complete [his obligation] … But the intention referenced here means that one intends to complete his obligation for that commandment, even when he does not fix the words in his heart but rather applies his heart to other thoughts….

(Günzburg 2019, BT Rosh Hashana 28a)

R. Günzburg, like Rashba hundreds of years earlier, considers the intention of Shema recitation as verbal understanding. By contrast, the intention needed in practical commandments is nothing but mere obedience. The agent intends to discharge his own duty.

6. Sincerity and Inner Language

Rashba’s notion of obedience echoes ideas of his master about divine voluntarism. Like late-medieval scholastic theologians (such as Duns Scotus or Ockham),5 Rashba too identified the ultimate essence of Divine presence with absolute will, not with reason—a rational cosmic order.

However, although Rashba explicitly rejects philosophy (especially radical Averroism) (Sorotzkin 2024, pp. 205–15, 251–54), his terminology echoes Arabic philosophical notions. Moreover, it looks like Maimonides’ definition of faith:

Know, thou who studies this my Treatise, that belief is not the notion that is uttered, but the notion that is represented in the soul when it has been averred of it that it is in fact just as it has been represented. If you belong to those who are satisfied with expressing in speech the opinions that are correct, or that you deem to be correct, without representing them to yourself and believing them, and still less without seeking certain knowledge regarding them, you take a very easy road.6

For Maimonides, sincerity is not a formal condition of liturgy. Rather, it is an essential element in the general definition of religion. Religion itself builds upon human intentionality, which harmonizes inner thought with practice. It presumes that the mind has language of its own. Genuine speech emerges from contemplation and reflection. Only when one comprehends the precise meaning of his words—when he can form their inner image mentally—does the moment of sincere attention occur.

The way Maimonides defined faith is deeply rooted in Arabic philosophy. Following Aristotle and the Stoics, his definition implies the distinction between ‘outward’ and inward speech. Outward speech is bodily, made by sounds and motions within the mouth. Inward speech is rational and spiritual. The soul converses with itself through this inner medium.

For Maimonides, the philosopher’s higher task is to save dialogue with the divine from the errors of ordinary language. This explains why he composed a philosophical lexicon of scriptural expressions. His motive was to safeguard monotheism. Maimonides assumes that the error of Divine corporality is nothing but a natural result of literal language itself. Only lay readers could treat scripture as written in ordinary language.

The Arabic context questions our ability to recognize a strict medieval precedent of R. Chaim’s distinction. The chasm between him and his predecessors originates chiefly from his underestimation of verbal understanding. Unlike R. Chaim, medieval thinkers postulate internal language as a vital condition for true conversation with the Divine—whether it would be an intimate personal dialog (Rashba) or an impersonal truth statement (Maimonides).

7. Modern Litvaks: Mystics of Recitation

The notion of a distinct intellectual intention used in liturgy has evident foundations in medieval philosophy. This idea is quite close to the idea of mental language. However, R. Chaim’s notion of intellectual intentionality is not verbal. From what source does he draw the connection between intention and obedience?

The answer to this question lies not in late medieval Spain but in Lithuania at the turn of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries—within the intellectual circle of the Vilna Gaon. His distinguished student, R. Chaim of Volozhin (1749–1821), offered certain advice to gain attention during prayer. This advice marked a strict alternative to Hasidic ideas on ‘alien’ thoughts during prayer. One mystical technique R. Chaim recommends to his disciples is to imagine the material shape of the letters as appeared in the prayer book:

אמר רבינו כלל גדול בענין התפילה: לצייר כל תיבה שבתפלה ככתבה באותיותיהם, ומועיל מאוד לכוונה. ועל תפלה בלא כוונה אמר: אם אינה נחשבת כקרבן שיש בה נפש—מכל מקום נחשבת כמנחה שאין בה נפש.

Our master taught a profound principle regarding prayer: one should visualize each word of the prayer as it is written, letter by letter. This greatly aids intention. Concerning prayer that lacks intention, he remarked: “Even if it is not considered a sacrifice that has a soul, it is nonetheless regarded as a soulless offering.”.

(Shuchat 2021, p. 141)

R. Chaim’s metaphor draws another analogy between sacrifice and prayer. The multiple kinds of sacrifice metaphorically represent different kinds of prayer. Heartfelt prayer resembles animal sacrifice, while prayer without proper intention is compared to a vegetable sacrifice. While this too remains acceptable, its status is obviously lower.

What is the connection between this metaphor and the practical instruction that precedes it? Like early Hasidic masters (students of R. Israel b. Eliezer Baal Shem Tov, c. 1700–1760) who provided their disciples with spiritual exercises to gain attention during prayer, R. Chaim offers his own techniques.7 His primary method is visualizing the letters of prayer. This type of guided imagery should assist the practitioner in sustaining focus throughout prayer. This is silent prayer, lacking vocal expression, but possibly also devoid of reflection. The silent practice of recitation becomes internalized within the soul. The capacity to preserve attention during prayer depends on suppressing intellectual comprehension.

I would like to propose a hypothesis: these counsels of R. Chaim of Volozhin can give us a crucial key to understanding the debate between R. Chaim of Brisk and Hazon Ish. If this suggestion is correct, it appears that each addressed the same problem differently. R. Chaim of Brisk insisted that verbal understanding should not cause distraction. He also lowered its legal status, determining that the legally required intention in prayer is non-verbal intention. His analytical distinction leaves no room for mystical technique centered on words without their content. By contrast, Hazon Ish argued that focusing on words and their meaning might lead to distraction. In his view, there is no need to advise how to gain attention in prayer. Anyone who prays also possesses some tacit awareness of its meaning.

8. Conclusions

This essay presents an intertwined inquiry. It is both an exercise in the history of legal thought and an exercise in the history of spiritualism. If rabbinic discourse had different conception of mind, when was it changed? And why did we used to see it almost self-evident?

The example of ritual intentionality is an almost self-evident source to examine those questions. In my reading, it is only late in the history of modern rabbinic scholarship that rabbinic scholars were obliged to some sort of modern ‘self’—a substantialist mind, detached from their own body and practice.

This idea has crucial legal implications. It contains actual potential to alter traditional rabbinic concepts of obedience and attention. In R. Chaim of Brisk’s view, attention coincides with self-reflection, which also serves as the genuine criterion of obedience in action. Any endeavor to judge whether a certain practice was performed with legal correctness would be post facto, exterior to the practice per se. Only through reflection of divine command can something be understood as an act of obedience.

R. Chaim’s argument represents a genuine innovation in the history of rabbinic scholarship. It rejects earlier rabbinic notions of mental language and embodied knowledge. In my assessment, both R. Chaim and the Hazon Ish responded to modern uncertainties regarding attention. Both sought to overcome modern techniques for achieving attention and return to classical halakhic guidance. However, their returns appear different. The Hazon Ish reclaimed idealist language to limit reflection during prayer. In doing so, he echoed ancient rabbinic sensibilities while rendering them more reflective and stringent. Unlike him, R. Chaim positioned reflection as the very core of both prayer and halakhic discourse about it. Ritual became purely intentional, created by mind alone. Perhaps this represents the real essence of orthodox law—a dogmatic belief is manifested in ritual and reveals its meaning.