The Power of Grandma’s Prayers: A Heartfelt Connection to Hashem

As Yom Kippur approached, writer Chen Artzi Sror shared a moving reflection on her grandmother—an elderly woman who prays constantly, though she’s never stepped foot in a synagogue.

“My grandmother doesn’t read or write,” Chen begins. “She never learned the formal prayers. But prayer is always on her lips—every day, every hour. She prays like she breathes. Natural. Simple. Constant.”

Chen sees her grandmother as part of a quiet generation of women—especially grandmothers—who may not have followed the traditional structure of Jewish prayer, but who’ve kept an unbreakable connection with Hashem (God) through whispered hopes, blessings, and heartfelt thanks.

“They didn’t need a siddur (prayer book), a cantor, or a synagogue bench,” Chen writes. “Just faith. Just an open heart.”

Chen connects this kind of personal, unstructured prayer to the story of Chana, the biblical mother of the prophet Samuel. Chana stood alone, silently praying for a child. Those around her thought she was drunk—they had never seen someone speak to God like that before.

And yet, that quiet, heartfelt prayer became the model for how Jews pray to this day.

“This year,” Chen writes, “maybe we can be like our grandmothers. Or like Chana. We can pray from our balconies, on the sidewalk, or in our living rooms. We don’t need perfect words. We just need to be honest.”

The world is in pain, she continues. So are many of us. And prayer, she suggests, doesn’t have to be grand or complicated. It can be as simple as a sigh or a whispered plea.

“The idea that our words—just our words—can bring healing or change the world, is wild and beautiful,” Chen writes. “If we pray like our grandmothers did, we might find ourselves truly connected to this moment. And to something much greater than ourselves.”

She ends with a wish for all of us:
That we fill our homes, streets, and hearts with a quiet, sincere cry for healing, for peace, and for unity.