Prayer, tefillah, is not a task we check off once or twice a day. As King David teaches, it is a continuous state of connection—a way of being in dialogue with the Divine. This series explores the 13 expressions of prayer found in Torah, Talmud, and Midrash, beginning with the first two: Rina and Kriya. These expressions allow us to meet Hashem from every state of the soul: from joy, from brokenness, from confidence, from surrender.
The Talmud says, “Man is born for toil.” But what is this toil? The sages debate whether it refers to physical labor or the toil of the mouth. Based on the verse in Proverbs, “For his mouth presses upon him,” the conclusion is that we were created primarily for the effort of speech, for prayer.
We are likened to a worm, soft yet able to bore through wood using only its mouth. So too, we may feel fragile, but through our mouths, through our tefillah, we can cut through the hardest obstacles. Our most powerful tool in this world is the capacity for heartfelt speech.
Rina is the first expression of tefillah. Rina means song, but not just any song. It is a song born from darkness. In the book of Lamentations, it says, “Arise and cry out in the night… pour out your heart like water before the face of Hashem.” Rina is a cry that becomes melody. It is the prayer that emerges when we feel hidden from the light, when we are wrestling with loss, confusion, or heartache. It is the niggun that begins in silence and rises from the soul without needing to make sense. The Baal Shem Tov taught that from the place of concealment, a deeper light is born. That light is Rina.
The night represents divine concealment. The first word of the Torah, “Bereishit,” in small gematria equals 13—the same as the numerical value of Rina, of Ahava (love), and of Echad (oneness). From the outset, the world was created through darkness that conceals light, through night that precedes day. This is not a flaw—it is the structure of creation. It is the way we come to choose, to feel, to discover Hashem not only in revelation but also in struggle.
The second expression of prayer is Kriya. Kriya means to call out. Kriya is directed and confident, unlike Rina, who arises from unformed feelings. It is the type of tefillah where one says, “I know You are there. I am calling you because I believe you hear me.” It is like calling a friend across the room with full belief that they will turn around. In Kriya, we speak with intention and specificity. We ask for healing, for clarity, for help. We do not just feel—we formulate our yearning into words, trusting someone is listening on the other end.
While Rina is the song that arises from being broken open, Kriya is the grounded prayer of knowing that what I say matters. Both are needed. Both are true.
We are living in a time where much feels hidden, uncertain, unstable. But this is exactly the time when Rina and Kriya are most accessible. From the concealed, trembling place in the soul, we sing. And from the certainty that God hears, we call out.
