Introduction

There is a particular kind of helplessness that settles over a family when a loved one slips into a coma, and a prayer for someone in a coma becomes the one thing left in our hands when everything else has been given to the doctors. We stand at the bedside and watch the chest rise and fall, and we understand, perhaps for the first time, how thin the curtain is between presence and absence. The person we love is here and not here, breathing yet unreachable, and the ordinary words of comfort have nowhere to land.

In that silence, we at Rabbi Meir Baal Haness Charities have seen families discover that tefillah and tzedakah become a lifeline, not because they guarantee an outcome, but because they place the one we love into the only Hands that can truly hold him. When a person cannot daven for himself, the mitzvah of carrying his prayer falls to us, and there is deep meaning in becoming the voice of someone who has gone quiet. This article will walk you through how we pray for the unconscious, which Tehillim our mesorah turns to, what the halacha asks of us, and how the merit of giving can be joined to the words we offer. Come learn with us, gently, the way one learns standing beside a bed that will not let you look away.

Understanding the Prayer for Someone in a Coma

There is no single prayer in our siddur titled “for a coma.” Instead, our mesorah hands us a way of responding to any choleh who cannot speak for himself: we recite Tehillim on his behalf, we ask Hashem for mercy through the Mi Shebeirach (the formal blessing said for a sick person at the Torah reading), and we pour out personal tefillah at the bedside. A coma simply intensifies what is always true of bikkur cholim, the mitzvah of caring for the ill, namely that the well must carry the burden of prayer for the one who cannot lift it.

The Gemara teaches that one who visits a sick person should ask for Divine mercy on his behalf, and that the act of prayer is itself part of the mitzvah, not an addition to it (Nedarim 40a). The Shulchan Aruch codifies this in the laws of bikkur cholim, instructing the visitor to pray for the choleh (Yoreh De’ah 335:4) and to include him among all the sick of Klal Yisroel (Yoreh De’ah 335:6). For a person in a coma, this guidance becomes the whole of our avodah, because he can do nothing for himself, and every word we say is a gift placed where he cannot reach.

Who carries this prayer? Anyone may, and everyone should. Family members, friends, a minyan in shul, schoolchildren each assigned a kapitel of Tehillim, women lighting candles before Shabbos with a name on their lips. The prayer belongs to the community as much as to the household.

The History and Origins of Praying for the Unconscious

The roots of this practice reach back to the Torah itself, where Moshe Rabbeinu cries out for his sister with five short words, “Keil na refa na lah,” asking Hashem to heal Miriam (Bamidbar 12:13). That brief prayer became a model for the ages: when someone we love is struck down, we do not compose long speeches, we cry out. From this our chachamim understood that prayer for the sick is a Torah-rooted response, refined over centuries into the forms we know today.

The Mi Shebeirach for a choleh, recited when the Torah is open, developed in the Rishonim and early Acharonim as a communal way of binding the individual’s need to the merit of the tzibbur and to the giving of tzedakah pledged on his behalf. Its very wording asks for “refuas hanefesh u’refuas haguf,” the healing of soul and body, a phrase that speaks with unusual force to the situation of a coma, where the body draws breath while the soul seems to have withdrawn somewhere we cannot follow.

The custom of completing sefer Tehillim for a dangerously ill person, dividing the kapitlach among many people so that the whole book is said quickly, grew especially strong in the world of the chassidim and the mussar yeshivos, though its spirit is far older. Dovid HaMelech composed Tehillim as the cry of a soul in every conceivable straits, and our chachamim taught that his words become our words in our own hours of need. The poskim shaped the practical halacha of which kapitlach to favor, how to use the choleh’s name together with his mother’s name, and how to weave tzedakah into the recitation. None of this was invented to comfort the modern heart; it is the unbroken transmission of how Klal Yisroel has always stood beside a bed it could not heal.

The Full Text: Tehillim 20 — Hebrew, Transliteration, Translation

לַמְנַצֵּחַ מִזְמוֹר לְדָוִד יַעַנְךָ יְהֹוָה בְּיוֹם צָרָה יְשַׂגֶּבְךָ שֵׁם אֱלֹהֵי יַעֲקֹב יִשְׁלַח עֶזְרְךָ מִקֹּדֶשׁ וּמִצִּיּוֹן יִסְעָדֶךָּ יִזְכֹּר כָּל מִנְחֹתֶךָ וְעוֹלָתְךָ יְדַשְּׁנֶה סֶלָה יִתֶּן לְךָ כִלְבָבֶךָ וְכָל עֲצָתְךָ יְמַלֵּא נְרַנְּנָה בִּישׁוּעָתֶךָ וּבְשֵׁם אֱלֹהֵינוּ נִדְגֹּל יְמַלֵּא יְהֹוָה כָּל מִשְׁאֲלוֹתֶיךָ עַתָּה יָדַעְתִּי כִּי הוֹשִׁיעַ יְהֹוָה מְשִׁיחוֹ יַעֲנֵהוּ מִשְּׁמֵי קָדְשׁוֹ בִּגְבֻרוֹת יֵשַׁע יְמִינוֹ אֵלֶּה בָרֶכֶב וְאֵלֶּה בַסּוּסִים וַאֲנַחְנוּ בְּשֵׁם יְהֹוָה אֱלֹהֵינוּ נַזְכִּיר הֵמָּה כָּרְעוּ וְנָפָלוּ וַאֲנַחְנוּ קַּמְנוּ וַנִּתְעוֹדָד יְהֹוָה הוֹשִׁיעָה הַמֶּלֶךְ יַעֲנֵנוּ בְיוֹם קָרְאֵנוּ

What These Words Mean: A Deeper Look

Tehillim 20 was written for the one who cannot fight his own battle, and that is exactly why it speaks so directly to the bedside of a person in a coma. The kapitel moves from a community calling out on behalf of an individual, to a quiet confidence that Hashem hears, to a final plea that gathers everyone into one voice. Walking through four of its phrases, we find that each one carries the family’s helplessness somewhere it can rest.

Ya’ancho Hashem b’yom tzoroh — “May Hashem answer you on the day of distress.”

The root here is ע-נ-ה, to answer, to respond, the same root from which Rabbi Meir’s own cry is built, “Eloka D’Meir aneini.” An answer presumes a question, yet the person in a coma is asking nothing aloud. That is the quiet power of the verse: it is phrased as a blessing spoken to him, “may Hashem answer you,” as though we are leaning close to tell the unconscious that his unspoken cry has already been heard. When a loved one cannot form a single word of his own, this verse insists that Hashem answers the cry that the soul makes beneath all language, the cry that needs no breath to be heard on high.

Y’sagevcho sheim Elokei Yaakov — “may the Name of the God of Yaakov set you on high.” Our chachamim ask why the verse invokes specifically Elokei Yaakov, and not Elokei Avraham or Yitzchak. The classic answer, brought by the Midrash and echoed by Rashi, is that Yaakov was the one who knew tzarah most intimately, fleeing Eisav, wrestling through the night, burying his beloved, dreading his sons’ loss, and Hashem answered him in each straits (Midrash Tehillim 20:1). We invoke Elokei Yaakov at a sickbed because we are invoking the One with a track record of answering precisely when a person is most cornered. The verb y’sagevcho means to lift to an unreachable height, beyond the grasp of the danger below. For a family watching machines do the work of breathing, the prayer is that the patient be lifted to a place the illness cannot follow.

Yishlach ezr’cho mikodesh — “May He send your help from the Sanctuary.” The structure of the verse is worth pausing on, because it does not say help will arise from the hospital, the medicine, or the body’s own strength. It says help is sent, and sent specifically mikodesh, from a source of holiness above. Our mesorah never disparages the doctor or the treatment, which are themselves Hashem’s appointed agents, for the Torah grants the healer permission to heal (Bava Kamma 85a). Yet this phrase reorders the family’s gaze, lifting it from the monitors to the Source, teaching that whatever help arrives, arrives because it was sent. The hands of the physician are real; the verse simply names Whose messengers they are.

Hashem hoshioh, haMelech ya’aneinu v’yom kor’einu — “Hashem, save; may the King answer us on the day we call.”

Notice the shift that closes the kapitel. Every earlier verse spoke to the patient, “may He answer you, set you on high, send your help.” Now, in the final breath of the kapitel, the grammar opens outward to us, “may He answer us on the day we call.” This is the experience of standing watch beside someone you cannot wake: his crisis becomes your crisis, his silence becomes your prayer, and you discover that you are no longer asking only for him. The kapitel ends by folding the whole family, the whole community, into a single plea, because a coma does not happen to one person alone. It happens to everyone who loves him, and so we all call out together.

When and How to Say a Prayer for Someone in a Coma

There is no fixed clock for this prayer; the gates are never closed, and Tehillim for a choleh may be said at any hour, by anyone, in any place. Still, our mesorah gives shape to the practice in several ways. When the patient is named in tefillah, the widespread minhag is to use his Hebrew name together with his mother’s name, “ploni ben plonis.” This custom is commonly connected to the verse “I am Your servant, the son of Your handmaid” (Tehillim 116:16), and to the idea that mercy is invoked for a person through his mother. Where the patient’s Hebrew name is unknown, the secular name may be used; Hashem knows precisely whom we mean.

The communal forms carry special weight. The Mi Shebeirach is recited when the Torah is open, ideally with a pledge of tzedakah on the choleh’s behalf, binding the individual’s plea to the merit of the tzibbur. Many families arrange for sefer Tehillim to be completed daily, dividing the kapitlach among friends and relatives so that the entire book is said again and again; this is a widespread minhag of great comfort, not a halachic requirement. Some add a name to a dangerously ill person, a custom associated with the idea that a changed name can signal a changed decree, which our seforim present as a tradition of the pious rather than a guaranteed remedy.

A word on hishtadlus, our human effort. Davening for someone in a coma never replaces the work of doctors, nurses, and the difficult medical decisions a family must make; it stands beside that work and sanctifies it. The Torah’s permission to heal teaches that pursuing every responsible treatment is itself an act of emunah, not a failure of it (Bava Kamma 85a). We daven and we act, holding both in the same trembling hands, and we leave the outcome where it has always belonged, with Hashem alone.

The Spiritual Power of Tefillah and Tzedakah

Our chachamim teach that three things tear up an evil decree: teshuvah, tefillah, and tzedakah (Yerushalmi Taanis 2:1, echoed in the words of Unesaneh Tokef). Tefillah opens the gates above, lifting the cry of a family to the Throne; tzedakah follows behind it, creating a zechus that can sweeten the judgment and tip a balance we cannot see. The Gemara states plainly that tzedakah rescues from death, “u’tzedakah tatzil mimaves” (Bava Basra 10a, citing Mishlei 11:4), and our seforim explain this not as a transaction but as an act of emunah and chesed that aligns the giver with the very mercy he is begging Hashem to show.

For the family of a person in a coma, this teaching is not abstract. When you cannot wake your loved one, you can still feed a hungry child in Eretz Yisroel in his merit; when you cannot heal his body, you can still strengthen a widow’s home in his name. The giving becomes a form of prayer that your hands can perform when your words run dry. This is the avodah that Rabbi Meir Baal Haness Charities was built to carry, upholding the legacy of Rabbi Meir Baal Haness to intercede in Heaven for those who give to the poor of Eretz Yisroel in his memory. We frame this with care: tzedakah is never a guaranteed cure, and only Hashem determines what will be. What we can promise is that the chesed is real, the zechus is real, and the act of giving turns a family’s helplessness into something with weight in shamayim.

Give Tzedakah for a Refuah Sheleimah in the Merit of Rabbi Meir Baal Haness When words fail and you can only stand and watch, your tzedakah becomes the prayer your hands can offer. Give in the merit of your loved one to the poor of Eretz Yisroel, and join your giving to the cry of your heart for his healing.  Donate Now

About Rabbi Meir Baal Haness Charities

Rabbi Meir Baal Haness Charities, founded in 1799, is one of the oldest and most trusted tzedakah organizations serving the poor of Eretz Yisroel, upholding Rabbi Meir Baal Haness’s tradition that those who give to the needy in his memory find heavenly intercession in their time of need. For a family keeping watch at a bedside, that promise is a quiet companion, a reminder that the giving you do in your loved one’s merit is gathered into a chain of compassion older than any of us.

Today Rabbi Meir Baal Haness Charities distributes funds to Torah scholars, widows, orphans, and needy families throughout Eretz Yisroel, an unbroken chain of compassion and a zechus for the giver and their family. Each gift given in the name of a choleh joins the prayer for his healing to the welfare of those who have the least.

 Support the Mission of Rabbi Meir Baal Haness Charities

Callout Summary Box: In the merit of those who feed the poor of Eretz Yisroel, may the silent be answered and the unreachable be reached.

Frequently Asked Questions About Praying for Someone in a Coma

Can a person in a coma hear our prayers?

Our mesorah does not require us to know what the unconscious mind perceives, because we are not praying to the patient, we are praying to Hashem on his behalf. Many find meaning in the idea that the neshamah remains present even when the body cannot respond, and families often speak gently, learn Torah, or say Tehillim at the bedside. Whether or not the patient registers the sound, the prayer rises to Hashem, and that is where its power lies.

Which Tehillim should I say for someone in a coma?

Tehillim 20, “Ya’ancha Hashem b’yom tzarah,” is widely recited for a person in danger, and many add further chapters of Tehillim according to family or community custom. A widespread minhag is to complete the entire sefer Tehillim by dividing it among many people. There is no single mandated text; the recitation of any Tehillim with a heart turned toward Hashem for the merit of the choleh is precious.

Whose name do I use when the patient cannot respond?

Use the patient’s Hebrew name together with his mother’s name, in the form “ploni ben plonis,” following the widespread minhag of invoking mercy for a person through his mother. If the Hebrew name is unknown, the secular name is entirely acceptable, since Hashem knows exactly whom you mean. When in doubt, ask a rav, who can guide you on the wording with sensitivity.

Is it wrong to keep praying when the doctors say there is no hope?

We do not rely on miracles. But we also do not stop davening for Hashem’s mercy just because the prognosis is poor. Chazal teach, “Even if a sharp sword rests upon a person’s neck, he should not prevent himself from praying for mercy” (Berakhot 10a). At the same time, difficult medical and halachic decisions in these situations should be discussed with a competent rav together with the treating physicians.

Does giving tzedakah really help someone in a coma?

Our chachamim teach that tzedakah can avert a harsh decree (Bava Basra 10a), and giving in the merit of a choleh creates a genuine zechus for him. This is an act of emunah and chesed, never a purchase of a particular result, since only Hashem determines what will be. What giving does with certainty is transform a family’s helplessness into a deed of kindness that carries weight in shamayim.

Closing

A coma asks us to love someone we cannot reach, and to keep speaking into a silence that does not answer back. Tefillah is how we refuse to let go, and tzedakah is how we make that refusal real, feeding the poor of Eretz Yisroel in the merit of the one we are waiting for. We place him in Hashem’s hands and we keep our own hands busy with chesed. May the One who answers in the day of distress send from His holy heavens a complete healing, a refuah sheleimah, to every choleh among Klal Yisroel.