Sarit buttoned up her coat and swung her heavy rucksack over her shoulder. The rehearsal for the Hanukkah choir had just finished, and she would be walking home through the dark evening streets. “Hey, Sarit!” She turned around. Her friend Judy was running behind her. “I’ll walk home with you.” Sarit nodded her thanks; she was pleased to have company.

“Actually,” Judy said, as they started walking through the chilly streets, “I wanted to speak to you about something.” Sarit raised her eyebrow at her classmate. It wasn’t often that this usually jovial girl was so serious. “I have these cousins who live in Israel. We don’t see them very often. The last time was nearly three years ago, I think. They just found out that their little girl, Ora, is very sick. She is going to be having an operation soon, and they think that will help her. But I was speaking to my parents about what I could do here. Of course, not much, really. But my dad suggested that maybe I, and perhaps some of my friends, could say a special prayer for her, and who knows, maybe that will help some.”

“Sure!” said Sarit. “I’m so sorry to hear about your cousin. I can say some Psalms, you know, the ones that King David wrote. Mrs. Green was telling us about that last week. She said it was a very special type of prayer, especially for someone who is ill or in need. I can ask my sister Rina to say some too,” she added as an afterthought.

“Thanks,” said Judy, as she turned off towards her own street. “See you tomorrow.”

The wind was blowing with greater intensity and rain was beginning to fall as Sarit opened the front gate to her home.

“Hi, Sarit,” her sister Rina greeted her. “Hang up your coat; you’re just in time for supper.”

Sarit rolled her eyes. “Why do older sisters always think that they are . . . ?” she began thinking, and then stopped herself as she remembered Judy’s little cousin in Israel. She asked her sister, as they came into the kitchen, about saying some Psalms. Rina nodded. Then Sarit told her mother. She too said she would say Psalms for the little girl.

As they were sitting down to eat, their mother asked them, “Who knows who in this week’s Torah portion prayed for something specific and got it?” Sarit was too hungry to think and shrugged her shoulders, but Rina scrunched her eyebrows together, trying to remember. “I know!” she exclaimed. “It was Isaac. He was praying for children, since he and Rebecca had been married for many years, and had none. Actually they were both praying. G‑d answered their prayers, and they were blessed with two children, twin boys.”

“Hmm,” said Sarit, “it just shows the power of prayer! Hopefully our Psalms will help little Ora get cured quicker!” Their mother smiled.