וַיֶּעְתַּ֥ר מָנ֛וֹחַ אֶל־ה וַיֹּאמַ֑ר בִּ֣י אֲדוֹנָ֔י אִ֣ישׁ הָאֱלֹק֣ים אֲשֶׁ֣ר שָׁלַ֗חְתָּ יָבוֹא־נָ֥א עוֹד֙ אֵלֵ֔ינוּ וְיוֹרֵ֕נוּ מַֽה־נַּעֲשֶׂ֖ה לַנַּ֥עַר
הַיּוּלָּֽד׃
“And Manoach entreated Hashem and said: ‘Please, my Lord, let the man of G-d whom You sent come to us again and instruct us what we shall do for the child who is to be born.’” (Shoftim 13:8) In this week’s Haftorah, we read the dramatic and deeply personal story surrounding the birth of Shimshon. The Jewish people are suffering under Pelishti oppression, and into that national crisis enters an intimate family narrative — the yearning of Manoach and his wife to understand how to raise the child destined for greatness.
The Posuk tells us, וַיֶּעְתַּר מָנ֛וֹחַ, and Manoach entreated. Chazal pause over this unusual term for prayer. The Midrash Rabbah (10:17) notes that this same expression appears when Yitzchak davens opposite Rivkah during years of barrenness. Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish explains that the prayers of the righteous are compared to an עתר, a pitchfork. Just as a pitchfork turns over grain on the threshing floor, so too tefillah has the capacity to overturn a Heavenly decree, transforming דין into רחמים, judgment into mercy.
There is something especially powerful about this imagery. A pitchfork does not create new grain. It takes what is already present and turns it over, exposing another side. Prayer often functions in the same way. Tefillah does not necessarily change Hashem. It changes reality by reorienting us, elevating us, and opening new channels through which Divine compassion can flow. In the context of childlessness, the image is even more poignant. Barrenness represents stagnation, a painful stillness. The tefillot of Yitzchak and Manoach seek a reversal, a turning over of what appeared fixed and unchangeable.
Yet Manoach’s prayer is striking for another reason as well. He is not merely asking for a child. The child has already been promised. Instead, he asks: “וְיוֹרֵ֕נוּ מַֽה־נַּעֲשֶׂ֖ה לַנַּ֥עַר” — “Teach us what we should do for the child.” His tefillah is not only about receiving a gift, but about deserving the responsibility that accompanies it.
So often, we daven for outcomes: for success, for health, for clarity, for blessing. Manoach teaches us to also daven for guidance. How do we raise this child? How do we shape this opportunity? How do we live up to the mission we have been given?
Rav Pam, in his sefer on the Haftoros, emphasizes that the power of tefillah is not reserved for towering tzaddikim alone. Every Jew possesses the ability to turn toward Hashem, to speak honestly and directly, and to impact the spiritual reality of the moment. Tefillah is not only the language of the righteous; it is the inheritance of every soul.
Perhaps this is why the Navi specifically uses the language of turning over. Life can feel fixed. Situations appear immovable. A person may believe that they are trapped within a decree, a circumstance, or even within their own limitations. But tefillah reminds us that nothing is beyond change when placed before the Ribbono Shel Olam.
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