Prayer for Fallen IDF Soldiers and Vitcims of Terror

In Israel, we have begun to mark Yom HaZikaron, Remembrance Day for Fallen IDF Soldiers and Victims of Terror.  The following is the IDF's Chief Cantor singing the El Maeli Rachmim prayer in 2011:

I am generally not a 'fan' of chazanut - mostly because I was Hebraicly illiterate as a child and didn't like my shul's tunes.  Also, it was very showy, in the sense of the chazan sang (read performed) and the rest of us watched.  This tefilla give me the chills each year, mainly because of the gravity of the day and shadow of national loss - but I also think I truly understand and identify with the words.  May there memory be for a blessing.

Why (some) Woman Don't Go to Shul

The following is a blog post from the Times of Israel from Hadassah Levy and I really thought it was good fodder for davening discussions.  One comment (from a female) that responded to this article was the following:

I admit that 'going to shul' for me always meant dressing up and going to see people. This was certainly more appealing when shul ended at 11:30 instead of 10am. But frankly, it's not just shul that is boring... it's davening. And I think it is definitely a personality thing.

I think Levy raises some good points about the difficulty balance it is for moderns to find a communal role as well as religious balance, but I think the greater dissatisfaction with davening is symptomatic of a greater problem plaguing Jewish life today.
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There has recently been a spate of articles online about the experiences of women in synagogues. Rivkah Lambert Adler wrote about her frustration at the inferior seating available to women in shul. The women’s section is generally much smaller than the men’s, the chairs are sometimes less comfortable and the position of the women’s section is not always conducive to hearing and seeing. After Pesach, Hadassah Sabo Milner wrote about the uplifting experience of carrying the Torah through the women’s section. She mentions her negative feelings for her local shul, where you can only see from the front row and her preference for curling up with a good book instead.

Rabbi Reuven Spolter blogged about the deplorable state of some shuls’ women’s sections. He pointed out that shul-going for women is more common outside Israel, where the synagogue is a community center as well as a place for prayer. And that more attention is given to the architecture of the women’s section in American shuls, since the women are more involved.

All of these discussions have made me wonder whether women who don’t go to shul are simply uninterested in communal prayer or whether circumstances are keeping them away. As a shul-goer myself, I wasn’t sure why many women tend to avoid shul, so I asked my social media connections their reasons for not going. The main reasons cited were:

• My children can’t sit and there is no place for them to play – While some shuls (primarily outside of Israel) offer activities for children during davening, these activities don’t usually occupy the smallest children. In Israeli shuls it is common to find kids playing in a nearby park while their parents daven, but this is a solution which works only for older children who can play unsupervised.
• It ends too early – This is a complaint in Israeli shuls, which generally start at 8 AM or 8:30 and finish around 10 AM. Since Israelis have no other day to sleep late in the morning, many moms find that by the time they have had a little lie-in and are ready to go out, the congregation is already filing out and getting ready to go home.
• The women’s section is too loud and distracting for proper prayer – Between the women talking to each other and the young children making noise, it is hard to concentrate on davening in shul. Davening at home offers a distraction-free environment for serious prayer.
• Tradition – Many women have been brought up to consider davening at shul a men’s activity. Their mothers and grandmothers did not go to shul, so they don’t feel the need to either. After all, the halachic obligation to pray in a minyan applies only to men.
• It’s too long/boring – Not everyone succeeds in connecting to God through structured communal prayer.

Although many people still feel that shul is relevant for men only, the trend in Orthodoxy is for women to be more active in communal life, and shul is at the center of it. Women today are not necessarily concerned only with their obligations. Many mitzvot from which women are exempt are being widely observed: Sefirat HaOmer, Sukkah and Torah study are some examples. Additionally, a basic Jewish education should make it possible for a woman to walk into shul at any time and know what the congregation is up to. If women don’t take their daughters to shul with them, how is this to be accomplished?

My unscientific study of the reasons women choose not to attend shul shows that if certain changes were made, many more women would come. Childcare, a later davening time and a more comfortable women’s section would certainly go a long way toward bringing more women to shul. Efforts to make davening more interesting (with more singing, perhaps?) would be appreciated by both men and women. Although sweeping changes are always slow to come (especially in the Orthodox world), individual communities can surely make their shuls more welcoming to women.

The Beis Yaakov schools were established to prevent a situation in which women become educated in secular studies, yet remain ignorant in Torah. Similarly, our shuls should not be empty of women, when our courthouses, offices, teachers’ rooms and batei midrash are full of them.

A Yom HaShoah Prayer

The following is the Chief Rabbi's Yom HaShoah Prayer, which starts Sunday night (although it is technically today but pushed off one day by the Israeli Parliament to prevent Sabbath violation in setting up official ceremonies.  It is important to also note that this date was chosen as it is the anniversary of the Warsaw Ghetto uprising in 1943; you can watch the official government ceremony at Yad Vashem at 8PM Israel time. 

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On Yom HaShoah, we remember the victims of the greatest crime of man against man – the young, the old, the innocent, the million and a half children, starved, shot, given lethal injections, gassed, burned and turned to ash, because they were deemed guilty of the crime of being different. We remember what happens when hate takes hold of the human heart and turns it to stone; what happens when victims cry for help and there is no one listening; what happens when humanity fails to recognize that those who are not in our image are none the less in God’s image. We remember and pay tribute to the survivors, who bore witness to what happened, and to the victims, so that robbed of their lives, they would not be robbed also of their deaths. We remember and give thanks for the righteous of the nations who saved lives, often at risk of their own, teaching us how in the darkest night we can light a candle of hope. Today, on Yom HaShoah, we call on You, Almighty God, to help us hear Your voice that says in every generation: Do not murder. Do not stand idly by the blood of your neighbor  Do not oppress the stranger. We know that whilst we do not have the ability to change the past, we can change the future. We know that whilst we cannot bring the dead back to life, we can ensure their memories live on and that their deaths were not in vain. And so, on Yom HaShoah, we commit ourselves to one simple act: Yizkor, Remember. May the souls of the victims be bound in the bond of everlasting life. Amen.

What Inspires your to Engage with this World?

One of my favorite Jewish thinkers today is soon-to-be-former Chief Rabbi Dr. Jonathan Sacks, as I often find that he eloquently captures the passion, relevance, and richness of living a Jewish life.  Last month in Jerusalem, Rabbi Sacks spoke at a book launch for his 24th book and I think his remarks again captures the importance and drive we need to pass on to our students.

The video, found here, gets super intense in the 23rd minute, but I think the full 31:27 is well worth the watch.   We indeed must engage with the world - and I pray that we succeed in spreading positive Jewish arithmetic.

Watching you Daven

I have been travelling for the past two weeks which has led to a decline in posts/tweets and increase in variety of davening experiences.

One thing that struck me along my travels was how affected I was by my self-awareness that people were staring at me while I was davening.  I am hesitant to lead tefillot partially because of this discomfort, and partially because I have a terrible voice (I inherited that!).  Knowing that someone is watching you I think highlights the performance aspect of the ritual to the detriment of the spiritual pursuit, and thus I think it is an under-taught skill is how to focus to the extent that you lose an awareness of your environment and audience. Sometimes the spotlight forces you to do it right, to have proper kavanah; I presume different people react differently.  In many schools, educators are often watching kids daven instead of davening themselves which leads to a more fundamental questions, do kids like being observed as they pray?  

A further refection that I had while away was regarding the "Siddur Party" - a seminal event in all Jewish educational institutions hold to mark a coming of age moment in which a child gets their very own prayer book.  I still have mine!  I was there when my son got his in first grade (the head rabbi of the school and a internationally well known scholar encouraged the parents to be personal examples and take out their siddurim). What happens between the siddur party and the departure from school system?  The central goal of this blog is to pursue a greater awareness of how to the evaluate the teaching of tefilla.  The educational message that is delivered with the siddur - it is a guidebook to the Jewish library, it opens one up to spiritual pursuit of Torah learning, it posses the fundamental search of human beings and their relationship to God - but what is sticking with students as they get older?

Guest Post: The Power to Bless

The following is an article by Jen Maidenberg originally published in the Times of Israel on January 18th.  I think it captures a modern sense of blessing and prayers.

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They may butt in front of you in line without a thought.

They may scream epithets at you as they zoom past your car on the one-lane highway.

They may be brisk and brash and too aggressive for your liking, but…

Israelis sure know how to bless you.

Not just when you sneeze.

But for every birthday, milestone, and reason for celebration.

Israelis, religious and non-religious alike, are really good at giving you one heck of a good blessing.

I’ve learned, the hard way, that I’m not so good at it.

The first time I was asked to give a public bracha (blessing), I was caught off-guard.

It was my son’s 5th birthday at his preschool. I had been in Israel 9 months already, but never to a child’s birthday in the classroom. This was my first.

There I was, sitting in the place of honor at the front of my room with my son, in front of 30 smiling expectant children, and the teacher asked me for a bracha for my son.

What?     Here?     Now?     In front of everyone?     In Hebrew?!?

My heart raced.      Bless my son?      Bless him?

What were they looking for? What were they expecting?

Baruch atah adonai …something or other?

A Fiddler style duet?

How do you bless your kid on his birthday?

I fumbled through the bracha with broken Hebrew and a nervous smile. Said something about how I hope his year is filled with fun and laughter.

Not bad for a first-timer, but I realized soon after how common this practice is…and how there are certain expected phrases.

Much health.

Much happiness.

Much health and happiness.

Kids are actually trained in brachot.

Not  formal training, really, but from a very early age children are asked to prepare brachot for their friends’ birthdays. It’s part of the birthday experience at school.

You don’t just color a beautiful card for your friend.

You write them a blessing.

And, I imagine at first, the teacher helps them with common nice phrases to say or write.

By first grade, the phrases become a little more sophisticated, but nonetheless still practiced and recognizable.

May you get many presents.

May you continue to be exactly as you are.

After years and years, and decades and decades of blessing your friends and classmates and neighbors, eventually it must be something you get really good at.

So that when it comes time to say something nice at a bris, or a baby naming, coworker goodbye party, or a wedding, Israelis are pros.

I envy their blessing ability.

Even when I am in a position to bless someone I really like and want to bless, I fumble.

And it’s not just the Hebrew.

Even in English, I fumble.

Growing up in America — despite our reputation in Israel for excessive, unnecessary niceness — we had a lot less practice in how to offer our blessings.

It’s something I really had to learn on my own.

And it’s something I am still learning,

How to meaningfully, and sincerely offer my true, authentic blessings to someone else.

And even more challenging — how to accept blessings and good wishes offered to me.

With a smile.

And a gracious thank you.

Not a shy, “Oh stop it…it was nothing.”

Or a sarcastic, “Oh, do go on…”

Just a true, authentic acceptance of a someone else’s blessing.

It might sound weird, but perhaps “formal training” in blessing is a good training to get.

Israelis don’t realize it, probably, and would be shocked to hear it — but when it comes to giving and receiving blessings, they’re actually nicer than Americans.

They've perfected a lesson in niceness worth exporting.

Staying in the Tefilla Spot

I had the tremendous honor and pleasure to hear Chief Rabbi of Tel Aviv Yisrael Meir Lau speak a few weeks ago in my shul.  For those of you who who do not know Rav Lau's story, I strongly encourage you to read his auto-biography, Out of the Depths; it was the best book that I read last year and you will not regret it.

One point that sincerely struck me from his Dvar Torah, directed to the bar-mitzvah boy, his older brother's youngest grand-son, was as on the following pasuk (Tehilim 24):

 מִי-יַעֲלֶה בְהַר-יְהוָה; וּמִי-יָקוּם, בִּמְקוֹם קָדְשׁוֹ.

Who shall ascend into the mountain of the LORD? 

and who shall stand in His holy place?

The challenge for teaching a child is not just to push them into a spiritual lifestyle, to accept the mission of being Jewish - this is the emphasis of the question of "who will ascend the mountain if Gd?".  Rather it should be to teach children how to reside in a spiritual forum, to exist in a world of struggle for balance between the material and spiritual, the modern and the ancient, and the have the tradition and tools present to be an active agent for Hashem.

Some educators today, or more factualy educational institutions, are focused on the tactics to be religions, to be affiliated, to be passionate, or to be able to daven in the main minyan.  Rav Lau's message was to realize that we must have the greater goal ever present.

Reading the rest of the perek of tehillim only strengthens this point:

  נְקִי כַפַּיִם,    וּבַר-לֵבָב:  אֲשֶׁר לֹא-נָשָׂא לַשָּׁוְא נַפְשִׁי;    וְלֹא נִשְׁבַּע לְמִרְמָה.

  יִשָּׂא בְרָכָה, מֵאֵת יְהוָה;    וּצְדָקָה, מֵאֱלֹהֵי יִשְׁעוֹ.

 זֶה, דּוֹר דֹּרְשָׁו;    מְבַקְשֵׁי פָנֶיךָ יַעֲקֹב סֶלָה.

He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart; who hath not taken My name in vain

and hath not sworn deceitfully

He shall receive a blessing from Hashem, and righteousness from the God of his salvation

Such is the generation of them that seek after Him, that seek Thy face, even Jacob. Selah

May we be worthy to raise such a generation.