Spinal alignment

Most of us wake up and reach for our phones before we even get out of bed. Within seconds, the world is inside our heads. And from that moment on, we’re reacting, putting out fires, answering demands, and juggling responsibilities.

What would happen if, before all that, we took five quiet minutes just to reset?

To that end, the Torah says: “You shall serve the L-rd your G-d,” and also that we must serve G-d “with all your heart.” Maimonides explains that this “service” refers to prayer, based on the teaching of our sages: “What is ‘service of the heart’? Prayer.”

That sounds lofty, maybe even abstract. But at its core, prayer is surprisingly simple. It’s about pausing and remembering who you are and what matters most.

Interestingly, many halachic authorities explain that the biblical obligation of prayer is quite minimal: when you need something, turn to G-d and ask. The structured daily prayers we know today were formalized later by the sages. So technically speaking, much of our daily prayer framework is rabbinic.

But here’s the beautiful part.

In Jewish thought, not everything essential gets counted as a separate commandment. Maimonides explains that only specific actions are included in the formal list of 613 mitzvot. Broad, foundational principles that hold everything together are not counted individually.

Chassidic teaching compares prayer to the spine in the human body. The spine isn’t counted as one of the limbs, but without it, nothing stands. It supports every movement and every step.

Prayer is like that.

It’s not just another religious task to squeeze into a busy schedule. It’s the quiet alignment that gives strength to everything else you do.

You can be deeply committed to Jewish life in many ways: through community, family, ethics, generosity, and cultural pride. All of that is powerful. Prayer doesn’t compete with those things, it energizes them.

When you take a moment to say “Modeh Ani” in the morning, or to whisper a personal request in your own words, or to sit in synagogue and let the melodies wash over you, even if you don’t understand every line, you’re doing something profound. You’re stepping out of survival mode and into awareness.

The Alter Rebbe, founder of Chabad, once used strong language about people who dismissed prayer because it’s described by some as “only rabbinic.” But his passion wasn’t about legal categories, it was about light.

Light doesn’t create what’s already there, it reveals it. Prayer reveals what’s already inside you—your connection to something bigger than yourself.

And here’s another twist: you don’t have to be perfect at it.

Prayer isn’t a performance. It’s not about speed or fluency or knowing every page number, it’s about presence. Even one sincere sentence can shift your entire mindset.

Imagine starting your day by saying: “Thank You for another day.” Or pausing in the middle of stress and saying: “Help me respond with patience.” Or ending your day with: “I did my best. Please give me strength for tomorrow.”

That’s “service of the heart.”

In a world that constantly pulls us outward, prayer gently pulls us inward. In a culture that celebrates independence, prayer reminds us that we’re supported. In a life that can sometimes feel scattered, prayer brings coherence.

It’s not about guilt, it’s about possibility. Five minutes of real connection can change the tone of your whole day. And over time, those minutes build something strong and steady inside you—a spiritual spine.

And when your inner world is aligned, everything else you do stands taller.