Teaching Decorum or Davening?

The following was shared from a reader about their synagogue's latest attempt to change the atmosphere of the shul.  It will be interesting to see what will be the next quick fix - as discussed, Dr. Levitz does identify this as one of the less successful attempts to break the "cycle of rebuke, resistance, and resentment".  What are your thoughts?

As you know, we've been considering ways to improve decorum in the Main Minyan. One area of concern is the disruption caused by adults and children coming in and out of the sanctuary during Torah reading and the Rabbi's drasha.

To address this issue, starting this Shabbat, we are going to lock three of the four outer central doors of the sanctuary (on the main level)  during Torah reading and the drasha. The doors will be locked from the outside only. The doors to the balcony will remain unlocked at all times.

During Torah reading and the drasha, the outer door on the far right (leading to the Main Sanctuary vestibule) will remain unlocked. The inner side door will be monitored by a volunteer who will permit adults and children to enter at breaks in the Torah reading and will let adults in at appropriate points in the drasha. Children will not be allowed to enter at any time during the drasha, so if your child is able to sit quietly during the drasha, please have him or her in the sanctuary before it begins. It is important that children understand this new practice and we ask that you explain the guidelines to your children.

Members who need to step out can of course do so at any time and are asked to use the door on the right as well.

We would appreciate male volunteers to help us monitor the side door. The volunteer will sit inside the sanctuary and will therefore not miss either laining or the drasha

Honesty & Davening - Don't Fade Away

Perhaps you have seen the recent post by Rabbi Efrem Goldberg on TorahMusing.com about the "The Most Important Discussions". In his reply a recent online controversy dealing with Biblical criticism in the Orthodox world, Goldberg asks tough meta-questions:

Who sets the agenda of the Jewish community? How should we dedicate our resources, energies, talents, time, and focus? How do we prioritize our collective to-do list? It seems to me that our agenda is being set for us by the media, zealots, and what topics attract the most attention on social media. If we are going to make a dent in fixing the problems in the orthodox Jewish community, we cannot simply have a reactive agenda, but we must articulate a proactive one that includes areas that may not seem urgent, but yet are critically important.

He rattles off a list of important alternate conversations that should be had in our faculty lounges, Shabbat tables, and community meetings.  But what I found interesting is the following comment:

But let’s be honest. How many Jews do you know who stopped keeping Shabbos, began eating non-kosher, or entered a relationship with a non-Jewish woman because they couldn't reconcile the authorship of Exodus and Deuteronomy? It seems to me many more are walking away because of the issues that we are not discussing broadly. 

I was listening to the Grateful Dead classic "Not Fade Away" and this point really struck me to the core.

Written by Buddy Holly, here is a selection of the not so complex lyrics:

I wanna tell you how it's gonna be
You're gonna give your love to me
Love that lasts more than one day
Well love is love and not fade away
Well love is love and not fade away

Permit me this leap.  The concept of the song is that the love and energy should not fade away. What afterall is the option for love?  Either a person could continue to love strong or to choose to stop loving; for most people I think there is a third option and common reality - that feeling fades away (cue another great song, The Thrill is Gone). Our job as educators, parents, teachers and individuals is to inspire our students and children to keep the spark alive and on fire - to make the world a better place and sanctify the Creator's name.  My fear is that the love fades when students leave school and educational frameworks.  Rabbi Goldberg's push to abandon a reactive agenda and focus energies on what is critically important is a call to action.  I humbly argue that the 'Not Fade Away' notion is the agency of davening - to be screaming like Mikey Hart and Jerry Garcia - that we won't silently disappear, but with joy and song show our deivkut, clingingness to the cause of Judaism.  It is wonderful to see more rabbis and leaders standing up to confront the hard issues we face.

3 Weeks of What?

There are lot of Jews whose sense of Jewish identity was created or strengthened in Jewish summer camp.  While I am one to call them Jew-topic, I myself am a product of the Jewish camping experience.  One of the more ironic aspects of camp is that aside from the 8 shabbatot in summer, the 'three weeks' and tisha b'av are the only holidays to teach and celebrate - so they really do them well.

However I think is important to re-approach how we look at the period 'Between the Straits' - the mourning and customs that surround this propitious time in Jewish History.  For example, one of the common customs is not to eat meet during the 9 days of Av.  This minhag is grounded in two principles:

• The loss of the Temple sacrifices - most of the sacrifices where of animals and to remind ourselves of the loss of this service (the tamid) we refrain from eating meat and even from wine (libation offerings).
• Meat = Joy - sorry vegans and vegetarians, but many rabbis associate meat eating with Joy; thus with the loss of the Beit HaMikdash, we show our mourning by not eating meat, drinking wine, and wearing new clothes. 

An interesting point to ponder here is that on Shabbat one is permitted to eat, drink and be merry.  The imposed restrictions on wine and meat are lifted for the weekly day of rest.  It is commonly thought that these permissions stem from the ban on public mourning on shabbat (which even applies to an official mourner, someone in the first seven days after the death of an immediate relative or spouse).  I discovered a fantastic comment by the Netivot Sholom - Rabbi Sholom Noach Berezovsky - who offers us a proper re-approach to this special time period.

The point of the Beit HaMikdash was a direct divine earthly connection - a place for people to draw physically closer to God.  Thus the destruction of this house is a great tragedy and loss - worthy of two thousand years of tears.  The Netivot Sholom notes that the point of Shabbat is a day of the week that one can draw spiritually closer to God, and the core of creation.  Hereby Shabbat and the Beit HaMikdash offer the same divine connectivity, one in time the other in space.  With this metaphysical thinking, one does not feel the loss of the Temple on Shabbat - because you have that closeness manifested, and thereby can eat meat and drink wine.  On shabbat we have nothing to mourn -> for what we are mourning on Tisha B'Av is a loss of Godly intimacy and spiritual power that is inherently a part of the day of rest.  So be careful and thoughtful for what you are mourning this summer - whether you are at camp or working through the long summer days.  

Choose One Mitzvah & Make it Your Special One

The following was shared by Benji Levin - a great educator at Gesher.  He shared this story about a lesson he learned from the renowned Reb Aryeh Levin. Aside from the wonderful inspirational story - I share this on today's fast day to serve as a reminder that the very little things we do can make a strong impact to heal society.  Further, it is a very powerful lesson, for each of us to choose one specific mitzvah to do perfectly and with style - to leave a legacy and to help others.
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In the summer of 1970, I was studying in a yeshiva in Jerusalem. My parents had come back to Israel after living in the States for thirty years. My father was serving as the rabbi of a town called Pardes Hanna, near the Coastal Road, not far from Caesaria.

One Friday morning as I got on the bus in Jerusalem to spend the Shabbat with my family, someone called to me, “Hey, Benji! Did you see the Yediot newspaper today? There are wonderful stories about your grandfather.”

My grandfather, Reb Aryeh Levin, was known as the “Tzaddik of Jerusalem.” He was one of modern Israel's most saintly and beloved icons, known for his great acts of kindness as he tended to prisoners, lepers, the meek and the downtrodden. He passed away in Jerusalem in 1969—a legend in his time.

When I changed buses in Tel Aviv, I bought a copy of the weekend newspaper and read the article about my grandfather. There were stories of how he would always escort people on the streets of Jerusalem. Many famous people spoke about their visits with him in his simple, little room in downtown Jerusalem, on the street that today bears his name. They all mentioned how he would escort them to the main road when they took leave of him, quoting to them from Maimonides on the importance of this mitzvah.

Later at the Shabbat meal at my parents’ house, I asked my father, “Where did your father, Reb Aryeh, learn to fulfill this mitzvah?”

“Well,” my father said, “Reb Aryeh was a great scholar in his own right, and he knew of this mitzvah, but there is a story attached to it.”

Reb Aryeh was known throughout Israel as “The Father of the Prisoners,” because he tended to young men and women who were incarcerated or were fighting to free Palestine from British rule and declare an independent Jewish state. Many of these young boys who were sentenced to the gallows asked for him to be with them at their last moments.

“One Friday morning,” my father said, “Reb Aryeh visited a prison outside of Jerusalem. There in a cell sat a man imprisoned for a daring raid against the British. This man had heard that Reb Aryeh was visiting the prison and asked to speak to the rabbi. Even the British had great respect for Reb Aryeh and granted the prisoner’s request.

“The man said to Reb Aryeh, ‘My wife and I both lost our families in the Holocaust. We met in Cyprus on our way to Israel. We married and had a child, and now we live in Jerusalem. My friends in the under-ground are afraid to visit my wife because they fear they may be caught by the British. Rabbi, please visit my wife and tell her you saw me. Tell her I’m OK.’

“Reb Aryeh took the address and promised to relay the message, if at all possible.

“He went back to Jerusalem and set out to find the prisoner’s wife. It was getting close to Shabbat, and he couldn't find the address. People were in their homes preparing for Shabbat. As he walked by a small street, Reb Aryeh saw a woman in a window preparing the Shabbat meal. He asked her if she knew the place he was seeking.

“She said, ‘Please wait a moment.’

“She took off her apron, walked outside, and said, ‘Please follow me.’

“She led him through the street to a small house and said, ‘This is the place!’

“‘Why did you have to come all this way?’ asked Reb Aryeh. ‘You must be in a hurry before Shabbat. You could have simply given me directions.’

“Oh, I thought about doing that,’ she said, ‘but then I remembered that this is my special mitzvah.’

“‘What do you mean?’ asked Reb Aryeh.

“‘My father was a very pious man,’ she said. ‘Before he passed away, he called me and my siblings to his bedside and said, “What do people take with them when they leave this world? Their honor, money, position, status? No! The only thing they take with them are the good deeds they performed during their lifetime.’”

“‘My father said to each of us, “Of all the mitzvahs you perform, choose one mitzvah and make it your special one. Whenever the opportunity comes along to perform this mitzvah, however difficult it may be, do it in its entirety.” My father then helped me choose my mitzvah of escorting a person on their way.

“‘When you approached me today I said, “This is my special mitzvah I’m going to perform it in its entirety.”’

“Reb Aryeh thanked the young woman. He visited the prisoner’s wife and brought her regards from her husband in jail. When Reb Aryeh came home just before candle lighting he wrote in his little notebook: ‘Today I learned from a young woman the importance of fulfilling this commandment, and from today on, I’m going to be careful to always perform this mitzvah.’”

When I heard this story, I said, “Wow! What a beautiful mitzvah.” There and then I decided to make this mitzvah mine as well.Saturday night I went back to Jerusalem. Two days later, on Monday night, I was walking in the street in the early evening when I noticed an elderly man across the road, walking back and forth as if he had lost something.


I crossed the street and said, “Excuse me. I couldn't help noticing you walking back and forth. Did you lose something?”

“Well, actually,” he said, “I got a little confused here in the dark. I’m looking for Portzim Street.”
I said to myself, “God, I promised two days ago to make this mitzvah of escorting another person mine. God, are you testing me already?”

“Come,” I said to the old man. “Let me perform the mitzvah of escorting you.”

I brought him to the street—to the house he sought—and said: “Here it is! Shalom!”

“Just a minute,” he said. “Why did you stop and ask me if I’m looking for something? Why did you escort me? Young people don’t do these things today.”

“Well, I probably wouldn't have done this,” I said, “but my grandfather used to do this.”

“Who was your grandfather?”

“Oh, you wouldn't know,” I said.

“What was his name?”

“Levin,” I said.

“Which Levin?”

“Aryeh Levin.”

“The famous tzaddik, Reb Aryeh Levin?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

The old man took hold of the lapels on my jacket and started to cry. I saw the tears roll down his cheeks, and I was at a total loss of what to do.

I waited.

Finally, he looked up at me and said: “Do you know who I am?”

“No,” I replied, “I never had the pleasure.”

“My name is Menachem Ro-iy,” he said.“I am a reporter for Yediot. Last week I wrote a number of stories about how your grandfather would escort people on the streets of Jerusalem. And here a few days later, I lose my way and who escorts me? None other than Reb Aryeh’s own grandson.”

I looked at the old man and said, “And do you know why? Because Reb Aryeh’s grandson read your stories and learned how important and beautiful it is to escort another person on his or her way.”

Provenance Note: This is a true story that happened to me regarding this mitzvah in the summer of 1970, in Jerusalem.

Nusach and a Philosophy of Prayer

I'd like to share a fascinating blog titled Nusach Freak - which shares perspectives and experiences on davening.

The following post is from December 2008 and shares what I think is a profound statement about the underlying motivation to public prayer.  My personal notions regarding nusach have evolved and I think that all educators must consider what they are teaching towards when it comes to tefilla.
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Venice, Italy and Nusach Carelbach --

So two weeks ago I ended up in Venice, Italy for Shabbat (long story and largely irrelevant to the Nusach blog). Naturally, I avoided davening with the Chabadnikim given the chance to daven with the Italians. The Italian minyan actually followed a hybrid nusach of 90% Spanish & Portuguese and 10% Minhag Roma...and it was gorgeous.

Now here's what I don't get. Go into any random Ashkenazi modern Orthodox shul where there is no chazzan and you will get baal habatim doing the davening/leining. Invariably, one of the following things happens:

1. The chazzan will not only be unable to carry a tune but will have no idea of what he's reading evidenced by the rediculously bad phrasing and dikduk.

2. The nusach will be butchered or at a minimum, the chazzan will lose the nusach for a few worlds here or there (for instance, when switching to shabbat nusach at the end of kedusha of mincha)

3. The baal koreh will get most of the pasha right but a few taamim will be missed and the occasional mistake will be made resulting in the entire shul screaming out the correct pronunciation  It's one reason why many people go to shul...(Hey Yanki, want to go to shul with Tatty to play heckle and correct the baal koreh?)

In contrast, between Kabbalat Shabbat, Arvit, Zemirot (Pesukei d'Zimra), Shacharit, Kriat Hatorah, Musaf and Mincha not a single mistake was made. There is no formal chazzan in the shul ---Friday night an Israeli (temani) transplant to Venice was the Shat"z and there was literally not a note different than what is done on a Friday night at Shearith Israel in New York. More surprisingly, Shacharit was led by a kid who looked no older than 22 or 23, did not exactly look yeshivesh (more Italian, fresh out of an espresso bar in Milano look), a typical Venetian local yokal, and his chazzaning was perfect --- everything was said out loud and his dikduk, nusach and transitions between the nusachy and singy bits were 100% perfect.

This is not the first time I have been overwhelmed by how important attention to detail is in sephardi batei knesset. Why is it that Ashkenazi tephilot don't come out the same way? Is it somethig in how the kids are educated?

This past shabbat, back in Israel, the shatz in my local shul used Carlebach. Being tired after a long (boring) work week and an even longer Friday getting ready for Shabbat, I had little patience for awkward Kabbalat Shabbat dancing (c'mon, you know what I'm talkign about) and 25 minutes of ny ny ny ny ny....Luckily, my 2-year old, who had spent all of Kabbalat Shabbat next to me happily munching on a candy had had enough and after Lechad Dodi insisted we go home. I was happy to oblige. On the way home it dawned on me why Sephardi (and paticularly Western Sephardi) and Yekke batei knesset have such a different character than the run of the mill Ashkenazi batei knesset and especially those that allow nusach Carlebach now and again:

It's all about philosophy of prayer --- and how we view our tephillot (avodah shebalev) as a replacement for the avodah in the mikdash.

If we are focused on creating a tekes or formal ceremony to take the place of a very formalized (and I imagine a largely unemotional avoda that was conducted in the mikdash) we will try to develop a tephilla that is focused on perfection --- nothing can be off. Everything like the ancient avoda istelf must be done in a formalized manner with pomp and circumstance (l'chavod u'litipharet?) . Of course, as part of this formalized process, we need to speak out to God.

The idea of ny ny nying and dancing in shul seems very out of place according to this philosophy.

On the other hand if we are to focus on reaching out to God via a spiritual experience (focusing on the shebalev part of avodah shebalev) than we don't have to worry about little mistakes in our nusach or for that matter, our didkduk --- the important thing is too get the vibe going....Clearly, chassidut has a strong influence on the latter school of thought.

There is no right or wrong here...just different approaches. Personally, I grew up in that more formal environment and therefore, I find the ny ny nying and dancing in shul thing very foreign and even more so because it is often accompanied by poor nusach/dikduk. However, I do love beautiful singing (both Ashkenazi and Sephardi) ...and I am quick to get a spiritual high from nicely sung davening (with multi part harmony of course) and this helps me to focus my tephillot to the Almighty.

Enough shtuyot...back to work.
Shabbat Shalom

Nusach Man

Unplug For A Day

Reboot is organizing the National Day of Unplugging March 1st - 2nd. I am a big fan of unplugging, not just for Shabbat but setting more boundaries of when I  am attached to electronic devices and screens.  It inspires in me a memory of William Wordsworth's poetry:

The world is too much with us, late and soon; 

Getting and spending, we last our powers.  

I have previously wrote about this verse, but I think it echoes our need to keep our values at the front of our cognitive and emotional mindset. In order to keep one's tefilla fresh, boundaries and perspective are vital and think that more moments of unplugging will enhance your spiritual focus.

Guest Blog: Fire Over Tefilla

The following post originally appeared in Shibley HaLeket, a thoughtful blog by Daniel Shibley, sharing his reflections on a Shabbat tefilla under the threat of danger.
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Although we are now a few weeks removed from the tense days of war that came to define the month of November, the exact moment of the first siren has remained with me, a quasi-trauma, a frozen second that I imagine will probably never depart my psyche. In a previous blog, I wrote regularly about t’fillah, aspects thereof, and I would be remiss to leave this particular experience undocumented.

Kabbalat Shabbat, a compilation of Psalms designated by the Kabbalists of the 16th Century, which is recited, often sung, every Friday night in most communities has become one of the most significant aspects of my week. When done “correctly,” the combination of singing, energy, and outpouring of emotion, can reach some near euphoric state. Somewhere between the vibrations of voices mingled and the sheer passion, there exists a supreme peace, an acknowledgement that the six working days have concluded and the transcendence of time and space, Shabbat, has begun. That is,until with a shrill and defined wail, the sound of an air raid siren shatters the peace.

It takes a few seconds for synapses to fire, it takes a few seconds to realize, it takes a few seconds to be able to uproot ones feet when davening is quieted at yeshiva and the announcement is made about incoming missiles necessitating an immediate scramble to a sheltered area. That Shabbat I was hosting a dear friend, as the entire yeshiva began to move as one towards the shelters, our eyes locked, nothing was said, everything was said.  After the all-clear was given, and the rockets had impacted nearby, we emerged from the shelter looked skyward, usually the direction of our t’fillah and the source of desperately needed rain, to see the smoke trails of rockets, smoke trails caused by people who wished harm upon us.

Davening resumed from exactly the point where it had been interrupted, with the line final line of Psalm 29, “The Lord will give strength unto His People, the Lord will bless His people with Peace” (JPS). No doubt a poetic conclusion, as well as the yearning of all in attendance. We resumed with a new vigor, with the intensity only created in the wake of a traumatic instant, speaking only for myself, and probably for others, tears streamed down my cheeks, hot tears of anger, tears of pain, and tears of relief. We again reached a crescendo in the final line of the piyut Ana Bekoach.

Ana Bekoach, as seven line piyut (liturgical poem), was composed by Rav Nehunia Ben Hakannah. The piyut contains a coded link to the first 42 letters of the Torah, the creation story, with the hopes of connecting the reader to the unlimited Divine energy that fashioned the world itself. Each line is said to correspond to a day of the week, and so it is only appropriate that as we began the seventh day, that verse rang most true. “Receive our pleas,  hear our cries, He who knows the mysteries.” As soon as the last words left my lips, I realized, that I had indeed plead, and that I had indeed cried out to the Knower of mysteries.

What had for several years been the section of Kabbalat Shabbat that unfurled the red carpet for L’cha Dodi, the central poem of Kabbalat Shabbat, was now laden with meaning. As those tears on my face began to evaporate and L’cha Dodi began, I realized that rationale for having missiles fired over our t’fillah may never be known to me, that even as I cried out, there exists some things that will forever be beyond my comprehension, and on that Shabbat evening it was the will of men wishing our harm and destruction.

Is Davening for Us or for God?

The follow is an article published in Kol Hamevaser, The Jewish Thought Magazine of YU's Student Body.  

Worship: For Us or for Him?

By Yakov Danishefsky | Published: December 26, 2012  

On one level, believing Jews must live in accordance with the divine will just because it is the divine will. We accept our role as servants of the King, each one of us obeying His laws as “metsuveh ve-oseh,”“commanded and performing.”[i] This is the level of “na’aseh,”“we will do.”[ii] There is, however, another level, that of “nishma,”“we will listen,”[iii] understand, and become engaged. It is from the point of nishma that we depart into the following discussion of understanding the role of our avodat Hashem.[iv],[v],[vi]

Radically different forms of worship emerge from the proponents of Jewish philosophy and Jewish mysticism, respectively. To be sure, these two groups have many diverging opinions within each of their general doctrines. What follows is not a comprehensive analysis of all approaches, but an outline of key approaches, to serve as a springboard for further study. I hope that this simplified presentation does not blemish the truth and depth of this lofty topic.

A hallmark of a sincere oved(et) Hashem (servant of God) is a determination to constantly increase the meaning and vibrancy of his or her service of God. It is therefore worthwhile for such an individual to explore different perspectives of avodat Hashem developed by the hakhmei ha-mesorah (sages of the tradition). By exploring different forms of worship, an individual is better positioned to identify the form that energizes and empowers him or her to better serve God. We will begin by looking at sources portraying a man-centered view, then move to those who adopt a God-centered perspective, and lastly, we will explore two forms of synthesis found in later sources.

For Us

One perspective maintains that worship of God is primarily “for us,” namely the worshipers, not for God. This approach is clear in the well-known mishnah at the end of Makkot: “R. Hananya ben Akashya says, ‘[God] wanted to give Israel merit, therefore, He gave them much Torah and mitsvot.’”[vii] This view is also found in a passage from Midrash Rabbah that asks the rhetorical question, “Does God care if man slaughters an animal in the front of the neck or in the back?” The Midrash seems to accept the premise of this question, namely, that God does not care, and therefore offers the explanation that it matters not for God but for man: “The mitsvot were given [by God] only to enfranchise (le-tsaref) the creations.”[viii] Lastly, the Gemara records the following statement of R. Sheshet: “Does God need [the Temple menorah’s] light? For all forty years that Benei Yisrael traveled in the desert, they followed His light![ix] Rather, [the menorah] is testimony to all the people of the world that God’s presence dwells with the Jewish people.”[x]

The chief medieval proponent of divine worship for man’s sake is Rambam. For example, he understands that the prohibition against harlotry is intended to ensure that all people belong to a family, since children of harlotry are considered strangers to everyone. An additional reason for the prohibition is in order to limit the lusts and desires of men, and to reduce strife between men for one woman.[xi] Both these reasons focus upon man himself, not God. Similarly, Rambam suggests that the commandment of berit milah (circumcision) is intended to limit the physical pleasure of intercourse and counteract excessive lust.[xii] In another context he explains that the reason for burning ketoret, or incense, in the Temple was to remove the odor of the slaughtered animals and preserve people’s respect for the Temple.[xiii]Lastly, his proposed reason for the prohibition against eating pig is that it is a dirty and unhealthy animal.[xiv]  Rambam believes that mitsvot are focused on their impact on man, meant to perfect the human intellect and enhance one’s character traits. As he wrote in Moreh Nevukhim, “all the commandments and exhortations in the Pentateuch aim at controlling the physical impulses.”[xv] And in Iggeret Teiman (“Epistle to Yemen”), he wrote, “The true divine religion does not have a single positive or negative precept whose essence does not contain aspects that aid the human being in his striving for perfection.”[xvi]

While Ramban fiercely rejects many of Rambam’s utilitarian and contextualized reasons for mitsvot, he too promotes a man-focused purpose ofavodat Hashem. In his commentary to the mitsvah of shiluah ha-ken (sending away the mother bird),[xvii] Ramban writes that the reason for the mitsvah is for man to develop a more merciful nature. He then expands his discussion to all mitsvot and asserts that “the purpose of mitsvot is not for [God Himself]. Rather, the purpose is for man himself to avoid harm, evil beliefs, or disgraceful qualities, or to remember the miracles and wonders of the blessed Creator and to know the Name … all [the mitsvot] are for our sake alone… and this is something agreed upon by all the sayings of our Rabbis.” He explains that the midrash quoted above suggests that God gave the mitsvot only for the sake of developing and molding man. The word “tsiruf”(literally “formation”) is used here in the same way regarding man as it is with regards to making a coin. Ramban’s opinion is actually more complicated, though, as will be noted below.

Ritva, in his commentary to Masekhet Kiddushin seems to invoke a man-centered view in his explanation of the principle that “greater is the one who is commanded and performs than the one who is not commanded and performs.”[xviii] Ritva writes, “The mitsvot are not for God’s pleasure but rather for our own merit.”[xix]  Interestingly, Ritva states this explanation in the name of Rabbeinu ha-Gadol, which usually refers to Ramban. Considering the other statements of Ramban quoted in this article, this source becomes even more noteworthy.

Lastly, the Sefer ha-Hinnukh in his Shorashei ha-Mitsvot (“Roots of the Mitsvot”) often explains the mitsvot as they pertain to the betterment of man. To cite a few examples, he explains that the mitsvah of sanctifying firstborns (“kiddush bekhorot”) is meant to remind man that everything is God’s and that man has nothing in this world other than that which God provides.[xx]He further suggests that the purpose of the mitsvot surrounding the korban Pesah is to remember the great miracles that God performed for the Jewish people in order to take them out of Egypt.[xxi] Finally, the goal of the mitsvah to sanctify Shabbat with words (“kiddush Shabbat be-devarim”) is to remember the greatness of the day and to instill faith in our hearts that God created the world.[xxii]

For Him

In stark contrast to the ideas presented above, Zohar states very clearly that divine worship in this world is intended to create unifications of the sefirot (divine attributes): “And for all of [the mitsvot], we need to perform the action below in order to arouse above.”[xxiii] Similarly, Moses is praised by Elijah because, “in every single commandment, your effort was to unite the blessed holy One and His shekhinah.”[xxiv] In contrast, man’s negative actions cause negative effects in the upper realm: “[Sins] separate the Queen from the King, and King from the Queen. Thus He is not called One, for He is only called One when they are together in union. Woe to those sinners who cause separation above.”[xxv] In a particularly strong explication of this view, Zohar interprets the verse, “Tenu oz le-Elokim,” “Give strength to God,”[xxvi] in the most literal sense: “When the Jewish People does improper deeds, ki-ve-yakhol (as if this could be) they weaken the strength of God, and when they do good deeds they give strength and power to God, and this is what the verse says, ‘Give strength to God.’ With what? With good deeds.”[xxvii]

Ba’al ha-Tanya advocates this position when he states that the greatest worship is“not only in order to cleave to Him, blessed is He, to quench the thirst of the soul thirsty for God… but rather, as is explained in Tikkunei Zohar… to unite [God]and His Shekhinah.”[xxviii] He further argues in favor of such an approach in his Sha’ar ha-Yihud ve-ha-Emunah, “It is known to all that the purpose of creation is in order to reveal [God’s] kingship, for there is no king without a nation.”[xxix]

However, it is necessary to offer a minor caveat within this view. It must be made very clear that a distinction exists within the world of mysticism between God’s essence and the manifest aspect of God.[xxx] Any discussion predicated on man’s actions affecting God refers only to the manifest aspect of God; God’s essence cannot be affected by man. Even this duality, however, is more complex and is considered beyond human comprehension.[xxxi]

The Nefesh ha-Hayyim seems to take this position as well. He writes, “The foundation of our holy faith is that our entire intention in all our blessings, prayers, and requests is only the One of the world, the single Master and endless One, blessed is He.” But he then makes a crucially important point: 

However, we are not talking about the essence of God on the level that He is completely expanded and separate from the worlds … It is only that after He showed us that His will is to connect to and be King over the worlds that our request is that He be King over the worlds. Furthermore, on the level of His essence, without connecting to the worlds, there is no space for Torah and mitsvot at all … because all the deeds of man, be them good or bad, do not affect this sense at all, God forbid. [xxxii]

Although Ramban, as quoted above, clearly adopts a man-focused view of mitsvot, he elsewhere hints to a different perspective. Shemot 29:46 states, “They shall know that I am Hashem, their God, Who took them out of the land of Egypt to rest My presence among them (le-shakhni be-tokham). I am Hashem, their God.” The commentators to this verse debate how to understand the lamed prefix of the word “le-shakhni.”Ramban rejects a number of explanations and endorses the view of Ibn Ezra: The lamed means “for the sake of.”[xxxiii] Thus, Ramban argues, the Torah indicates that God took us out of Egypt in order that He dwell among us. Ramban then comments that “[Ibn Ezra] explained well, and, if so, there is a great secret in the matter. For according to the simple understanding of this verse, God’s dwelling in Israel is for human sake and not for divine sake, but [this verse] is similar to “Through you, Israel, God is glorified.” [xxxiv] The verse thus says that God took Benei Yisrael out of Egypt in order that He dwell among them, the emphasis being not on their gain, but rather on His. Admittedly this is not explicit in the verse, even according to Ibn Ezra’s reading, but it is nonetheless alluded to as a “great secret.”

This approach can also be found in later Hasidic sources. For example, R. Levi Yitshak of Berditchev wrote in his commentary on the Torah: “God, blessed is He, created the world in order that He have pleasure … This pleasure comes from this-worldly things, from men.” [xxxv]

For Us and For Him

While I have outlined two conflicting approaches above, one need not consider these viewpoints as mutually exclusive, especially not from a mystical perspective. Although many philosophical authorities reject certain mystical doctrines, and some mekubbalim dismiss philosophical positions,[xxxvi] there are those that advocate for some form of synthesis. What follow are two different forms of synthesis. The first reconciles the different views by creating a two-tier structure. The second offers a blend of the seemingly different views and shows that they are, in fact, one.

R. Shlomo Elyashiv, the great Torah scholar and kabbalist of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, in his magnum opus, Leshem Shevo ve-Ahlamah, claims that Rambam’s view is entirely correct with regards to understanding God as transcendent, while the mystical doctrine of the mekubbalim speaks within the other, manifest, aspect of God.[xxxvii],[xxxviii] In this way, he maintains the seemingly exclusive opinions by allowing them to function on different levels.

Ramban, as well, views these two approaches as not mutually exclusive. As noted above, Ramban clearly states that the purpose of mitsvot is for man and not for God, yet elsewhere he presents a God-focused view as his “great secret.” While his opinion requires further investigation and analysis, it is likely that Ramban operates on multiple levels. On the peshat (simple reading) level, he considers the mitsvot to be for man’s sake, but, on the deeper “sod” level, avodat Hashem is for God. The two views are entirely different, but Ramban seems to comfortably adopt a multilayered worldview. Although it is purely speculative, it is possible to suggest that these layers of Ramban are similar to the claim of the Leshem.

A second form of synthesis is a profound idea found in the writings of R. Abraham Isaac Kook. Binyamin Ish Shalom of Beit Morasha of Jerusalem presents R. Kook’s discussion of the struggle between freedom of the self and subjugation to the Divine.[xxxix] Ish Shalom shows how R. Kook often stresses his loyalty to the importance of human will and the human self, yet other times speaks of complete subjugation to the Divine. He further argues that the complete picture of R. Kook’s view not only contains no contradictions but actually reflects a stunning attempt at synthesis. Freedom, writes R. Kook, is for one “to be true to his inner self, to the spiritual quality of God’s image within him, and in such a quality he can consider his life as worthy and purposeful.”[xl] Elsewhere, he explains further that “man is destined to rise to recognition of his will, to self-consciousness, to the highest perception of happiness in doing his own will as the will of his Maker, for his will is none other than his Maker’s will” [italics in the original].[xli] He explains that the human will is “a single spark of the blazing flame of the great Will in all of being, the manifestation of the will of the Master of the World, blessed be He.”[xlii] In this way, R. Kook explains that when a person develops his own self (within the guidelines of Torah and Halakhah), the divine will that is expressed within man is further developed. And when one subjugates himself to the divine will he truly finds the deepest level of his own will. This unique perspective sheds light on our discussion as well. We can propose that acting “for us” is acting “for Him,” and acting “for Him” is acting “for us.” As the Mishnah states, “make His will your will in order that your will become His will.”[xliii]

It is often difficult to maintain a constant excitement and vibrancy within one’s avodat Hashem amidst the repetition of daily routine. Thankfully, and not by chance, Judaism contains a variety of different outlooks. At times the “for us” type of worship will take the stage and, at other times, the “for Him” may be featured. For every person this combination will form itself differently and it is our challenge to each find our own synthesis of views. By developing both deeper understandings and appreciation of a wider scope of opinions a person can attempt to have a constant flow of substance and stimulation giving life to his or her avodat Hashem.

Yakov Danishefsky is a senior at YC majoring in Jewish Studies.

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[i] See Kiddushin 31a.

[ii] Shemot 24:7.

[iii] Ibid.

[iv] It is important to remember that Benei Yisrael were praised specifically for putting “na’aseh,” we will do, before “nishma,” we will listen (Shabbat88a), ostensibly implying that commitment to avodat Hashem exists on its own, with or without understanding. Divine service is enhanced by understanding but not hinged entirely on it.

[v] This is in addition to the inherent value of knowing and understanding these issues as a fulfillment of the mitsvah to study and understand the Torah.

[vi] Not all halakhic authorities agree to the project of rationalizing themitsvot. For example, R. Jacob ben Asher states in Tur, Yoreh De’ah 181 that “we do not need to search for the reasons of mitsvot because they are commandments of the King upon us even if we do not know their reason.” Many authorities, such as Rambam and Sefer ha-Hinnukh, however, seemed to invest a great deal of time into understanding the mitsvot. This question is ostensibly connected to the debate in Sanhedrin 21a as to whether or not“doreshin ta’ama de-kera,” “we extrapolate the reasons of verses.”  

[vii] Makkot 3:16. All translations are my own unless otherwise stated.

[viii] Bereshit Rabbah 44:1. A very similar statement appears in Midrash Tanhuma, Shemini, chapter 8.

[ix] This translation follows Tosafot’s understanding of this passage. Tosafot record another view, however, that the question is not referring to God but rather to the kohanim performing the avodah in the Temple. In other words, the Gemara is asking, “Did Aharon really need the light of the menorah for his service? The shekhinah itself provided light for all forty years in the desert!”

[x] Shabbat 22b.

[xi] Moreh Nevukhim  3:49.

[xii] Ibid.

[xiii] Ibid 3:45.

[xiv] Ibid. 3:48.

[xv] Ibid 3:8.

[xvi] Rambam in Mishneh Torah (Hilkhot Teshuvah 10:2) defines serving God out of love as “doing the truth because it is truth.” A similar expression appears in his Peirush ha-Mishnayot (Sanhedrin 10:1). This does not seem to be the model we are presenting for Rambam here (nor does it fit exactly with the “for Him” model). Rather, this seems to be a third view that advocates doing the mitsvot because they are true. Ostensibly the assumption is that truth is intrinsically valuable; see Michael J. Zimmerman, “Intrinsic vs. Extrinsic Value,” Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, ed. by Edward N. Zalta (Online: Winter 2012 Edition), available at: plato.stanford.edu.

[xvii] See Devarim 22:6-7 and commentary of Ramban, ad loc.

[xviii] Kiddushin 31a.

[xix] Ritva to Kiddushin 31a, s.v. de-amar. It is unclear how to understand what exactly “for our merit” (“li-zekhuteinu”) means. It could mean that man merits reward in this world and/or in the next world, or it could mean something along the lines of Ramban above, namely, that man benefits by developing better character and faith in God.

[xx] Sefer ha-Hinnukh 18.

[xxi] Ibid. 5.

[xxii] Ibid. 31.

[xxiii] Zohar 3:105a.

[xxiv] Zohar 2:119a.

[xxv] Zohar 3:16b.The King and Queen refer to different sefirot.

[xxvi] Tehillim 65:35.

[xxvii] Zohar 2:32b.

[xxviii] Tanya, Likutei Amarim, 10.

[xxix] Tanya, Sha’ar ha-Yihud ve-ha-Emunah, 7.

[xxx] This is more or less stated in Tikkunei Zohar 70 and explicated in theAsarah Kelalim of the Gra: “A great principle in Torah is that all that themekubbalim (kabbalists) have said and all that the Torah says is God’s will, providence, and actions and they did not speak, [God forbid], about His physical essence at all.” (Kelal 1).

[xxxi] R.A.I. Kook explains this concept in a fascinating and insightful way: “Thus one discerns within the absolute perfection of Divinity two paradoxical features. The first is that God is absolutely perfect. It is impossible for there to exist, whether in this reality or in imagination, a perfection greater than His. This aspect of Divine perfection cannot become more perfect for there is nothing beyond it; there are no further levels to attain. And yet, this excellence conceals a deficiency that mars the very perfection that it purports. Perfection that lacks the possibility of becoming even more perfect is no longer completely flawless, for it is missing something. It is perfection minus one small detail, the experience of dynamic perfecting. Consequently, Divinity must also possess this latter capability. This second feature, the possibility of positive transformation, when applied to human beings, has certain fulfillments and gratifications and even superiority over its more distinguished counterpart, the supreme (though static) expression of absolute perfection. There is a particular type of exquisite joy that comes from self-improvement, and every soul longs for its sweetness. The exhilaration of personal transformation, of ‘ascending from strength to strength,’ must also be a divine satisfaction. It is impossible for the Creator to lack this virtue.” (Orot ha-Kodesh 2; transl. by Sarah Yehudit Schneider in Sarah Schneider, You Are What You Hate: A Spiritually Productive Approach to Enemies (Jerusalem: Still Small Voice, 2009).)

[xxxii] Sefer Nefesh ha-Hayyim 2:4. The Tanya also addresses these two levels. He speaks about God as the “mesavev kol almin” – “the One Who surrounds all worlds.” He surrounds all worlds, He is removed from them, and “everything is before Him as nothing.” And He is the “memale kol almin” – “the One Who fills all worlds,” and thereby He manifests in this world. SeeTanya 3-4.

[xxxiii] Ramban to Shemot 29:46. s.v. le-shakhni.

[xxxiv] Yish’ayahu 49:3.

[xxxv] Kedushat Levi to Bereshit 2:6, s.v. ve-eid.

[xxxvi] See Daniel C. Matt, “The Mystic and the Mizwot” in Jewish Spirituality: From the Bible Through the Middle Ages, vol. 1, ed. by Arthur Green (New York, NY: The Crossroad Publishing Company, 1986), 367-404.

[xxxvii] This is not to say that Rambam himself would agree to that claim. Many philosophers reject mystical doctrines, but many mystics accept aspects of philosophical perspectives and add to them.

[xxxviii] This idea surfaces in a number of his writings. One explication of it appears in Likutim at the end of Hakdamot u-She’arim.

[xxxix] Binyamin Ish Shalom, Rav Avraham Itzhak Hacohen Kook: Between Rationalism and Mysticism (Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1993), 108-113.

[xl] Ish-Shalom, 101.

[xli] Ish-Shalom, 111.

[xlii] Ish-Shalom, 111.

[xliii] Avot 2:4.

Mumbling Alienu

It may just be me who rushes out of shul early to run to work - but have you noticed that Alienu doesn't get much respect these days?

Sometimes on Shabbat, people are in a pre-kiddush talking frenzy that causes mourners to have some difficulty hearing the cue to start saying kaddish at the end.  At morning services there are people wrapping their gear up and will only half heartily bow to acknowledge thank you "to the Supreme King of Kings".  I guess this post is a confession that I personally fear that I haven't really been giving Alienu the proper attention.  After all, isn't this the same prayer that is one if the pinnacle moments of the Rosh Hashana Mussaf tefilla? As a child, only the chazzan in our shul actually full out prostrated himself during the repetition, but in Israel (and now I have seen other Diaspora congregations) all daveners will get down on the floor to "bow in worship" with their full bodies to this very prayer.

Granted that Jews do not generally bow a lot in tefilla anymore, especially compared to Muslims, and this may have been strongly influenced by Jewish encounters with Christianity, so shouldn't this mini-bow be very important? The only exceptions to the full bowing (proper prostration) are on the High Holy Days and it is interesting that the same tefilla is precisely chosen to conclude and exclamate our daily prayers.  The prayer's message of acceptance of the yoke of heaven, the majesty of God, and use of full animation to make this point seems sometimes distant from the everyday mumbling of Alienu and tip of the head.

Alienu is a special tefilla, so much so that one is required to join in saying it even one happens to be in the room as the congregation gets to it.  I would humbly list it on the top ten of most well known Jewish prayers, partially due to its exposure and universality, and its tune (so well known that I have seen many an agnostic friend heartfully sing the words when visiting a shul for a family event).

What are you thinking of when you say Alienu?  How do you keep the magic focus in your prayers?

How To Teach Davening So Kids Will Daven

The following is a passage from the national bestseller How To Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk:

Most of the books on child-rearing tell us that one of our important goals as parents is to help our children separate from us, to help them become independent individuals who will one day be able to function on their own without us. We're urged not to think of our children as little carbon copies of us or extensions of ourselves, but as unique human beings with different temperaments, different tastes, different feelings, different desires, different dreams.   

Yet how are we to help them become separate, independent persons?  By allowing them to do things for themselves, by permitting them to wrestle with their own problems, by letting them learn from their own mistakes.   

Easier said than done.  (p.136)

Are you happy with how your students are davening on their own?  Have you observed them in shul on Shabbat or a holiday?  Perhaps the problem is that they have been encouraging them to daven politely in public and not necessarily prepared them for their separation from an adult led environment?

I know that teachers are not to blame for the lack of davening happening outside of school hours (parents do have a role - at my son's first grade siddur party at his religious school the head rabbi not so subtly encouraged even the parents to take more of an opportunity to use their siddurim as well), but I fear that one of the big problems of the prevalent tefilla pedagogy is that students are not being engaged to do so on their own terms and time. It is indeed easier said than done - but I think that the current model is doing just that - modeling behavior and norms and trying to create carbon copies.  Schools need to be laboratories for children to trained to tackle their present and future spiritual challenges, in their own unique way but within a broad and strong tradition and semi-public atmosphere.

Pausing

In trying to share the best practices for teaching kids how to daven I find that the my constant davening is a great way to experiment.

While in shul this past Shabbat, I wandered across a small Artscroll book Praying with Joy 2.  Now I felt guilty for scanning this book during davening as well as having skipped volume 1.  Nonetheless, this work by Rabbi Daniel Yakov Travis offers daily does of inspiration, midrashim, and laws to help one improve their tefilla.  Interesting enough that the first chapters dealt with pausing and mediation.  I think the idea of pausing really can make in impact in one's tefilla for isn't the entire enterprise of davening a way of pausing life to consider one's needs, wants, and blessings?  By advocating that one pauses before a bracha or the recitation of Gd's name, it pushes the davener to get off the automatic replaying of words and adds a level of forced concentration.  It is harder than you think.  I am having trouble getting a perfect 19 out 19 when I daven!

While on the topic of mediation and training the mind to focus while davening, I wanted to let readers know that I have begun to participate in the Open Heart Project.  I am not usually "into" these kind of things but I thought I would try out this twice weekly email newsletter of content and resources that help share mediation practices.  Let's see how it goes and I am likely to share the best and worst of it.

Guest Post: Kosher Gospel

While I was watching gospel videos the other day, I could not help but to be struck by the verve, vitality and vigor with which the singers and their parishioners encouraged one another one to reach crescendos of spirituality. Their outpouring of emotionality was stirring even from the barrier of my computer screen.

Was it the awesome voices, the rousing choir, the energized music or all of them combined? Or was it the experience of coming together for the sole purpose of prayer, without a predetermined text or a G-d given mandate to attend?

Whatever the cause, the collective result of a congregation engaged in their mission of praising the L-rd and electrifying one another was, as an observer an honest and pure experience.

Is that what it was like for us with the Leviim and Pirchei Kehuna? Was that akin to the atmosphere that we sing about in Mareh Kohen on Yom Kippur? The question of where did we lose it or why did we lose it interests me less, but more of why have we not brought some of it back. I do not see an openly emotional prayer session being dependant on bringing sacrifices or being housed on har habyit. Is our yearning for uplifting prayer experiences why we have seen a proliferation of Carlebach minyanim around the modern Orthodox world?

My purpose at this time is not to propose alternatives, though I have some up my sleeve, but rather to present the thought that within the realm of our daily or Shabbat minyanim, there is a way to rise above the monotony of the experience that plagues most of our kehillat and to activate a more meaningful, uplifting, non kitschy service that will have us leaving our shuls inspired, uplifted and fulfilled. Why have we not pursued it?

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Avi Silverman holds a BA from Yeshiva University in Psychology and Speech and Drama, an MS from The City College of New York in School Psychology and has Rabbinic Ordination from Yeshiva University. In his professional career, Avi has worked as an Upper School administrator and Retreat Center Director in America, and at Bar Ilan University and various elementary and high schools in Israel. Currently, Avi is the Advisor for Education and Communities at Nefesh B'Nefesh and lives in Ramat Beit Shemesh with his wife and six children.

Guest Post: What's Love Got to Do With it?

What’s Love Got to Do With it?  Sh’ma Love

By Gail F. Nalven

photo credit: alix brown c 2012

When I lead services, regardless of whether it is for kids or adults, I love to explain my take on the Sh’ma and the surrounding paragraphs.  Whether you are Reform and call it Sh’ma U’virchotecha--Sh’ma and its blessings--or traditional and call it K’riat Sh’ma--reciting of Sh’ma--the texts before and after the Sh’ma line are consistent.  The paragraph before the Sh’ma, beginning with Ahava Rabbah in the morning and Ahavat Olam in the evening, declares God’s love for the people Israel.  The paragraph after the Sh’ma is the one that follows it directly in the book of D’varim in the Torah.  (The Baruch Shem line is not from the Torah sequence.)  V’Ahavtah talks about our love for God.  So Sh’ma, our ultimate statement of our faith in God,  is surrounded with prayers about ahavah, love. 

This spring, I was leading a Shabbat morning service for third through fifth graders in a Reconstructionist Synagogue.  Before we began the Sh’ma portion, I explained these paragraphs as:  First God tells us that God loves us.  This is before we even say the Sh’ma, our ultimate statement of faith in God.  God says it first because no one wants to be the first one to say, “I love you.”  And now, knowing that God loves, us, we can say the V’Ahavatah, we tell God that we love God back.  And what’s in the middle?  The Sh’ma.  I like to call this the Sh’ma Love Sandwich!

I’m sure that I had told this story before during my many years at this congregation.  Usually the kids rolled their eyes at my goofiness.  There she goes, talking about God again!  This time was different.  As I completed my last sentence, a fifth grader jumped in with the following story:  His mom and dad liked to put him between them and hug him tight. They call this a love sandwich.  As with many students his age, he started talking before he realized that this might not be a cool thing to say.  His voice became softer as he finished.  Wanting to validate his comment, I shouted, “That’s it!  That’s the Sh’ma!  That’s just the way God loves us and we love God.”  

While I certainly hadn’t intended for my story to create some sort of assessment of learning, I used his example to show that this was indeed a valid interpretation of this text.  And while I seriously doubt that the student had connected more than the words “love sandwich” with his family ritual, now he and others may have a visible connection.  Everyone in that room could identify with being hugged by their parents.

As Jews, we don’t talk much in the vernacular about loving God and God loving us.  This seems to have become part of Christian God-language.  Clearly it is part of our liturgy and perhaps we should consider reclaiming this language.

I always learned that the paragraphs around the Sh’ma were chosen for their themes of creation, revelation, and redemption.  This idea has been taught as if it was Mt-Sinai, as if it came all of the way from the time of Moses, when it was actually devised by 19th Century German scholars.  While the ideas of creation, revelation, and redemption work for me as an adult, I doubt seriously that they will work for our students.  In education we say that we need to “meet the student where s/he is.”  Perhaps we need to remember this when we teach liturgy.  The Sh’ma line is probably the first piece of Jewish text that our students learn.  There is already a comfort level with that text.  And the idea that it is wrapped in love is something that they can get their heads around.

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Gail F. Nalven, RJE has a MA from the Davidson School of Jewish Education at the Jewish Theological Seminary and she will be joining the staff of Shaaray Tefilla in NYC this fall.  She is a fellow in Leadership Institute:  Shaping Congregational Leaders and Learners, a 2 1/2 year program for synagogue educators sponsored by JTS and HUC-JIR and funded by UJA-Federation and is the co-author of the newly published The Kiddush Murder: A Shoshana Goldberg Mystery. Contact Gail at gneducator@gmail.com and check out her blog “Adventures in Tefillah” at www.tefillah.wordpress.com.

Eating like Davening

I had a guest over for Shabbat lunch (good food was served) and the topic came up of tefilla and he shared a wonderful insight.  Just as we eat roughly three meals a day - without necessarily giving thought to the logistics and nutritional value the food - so to we should pause more to realize the spiritual opportunities that are presented before us when we break to pray.  Eating can seem natural and can be taken for granted (which is part of the interest of a fast day), but if abused can have a residual effect on your energy levels and health.  One does not strictly need to see a nutritionist, but in seeking their advice one can discover guidance for healthier living habits.  I have written about this subject previously regarding the need to see a davening doctor, but my guest pointed to the general need to pause and appreciate the cyclical opportunities that are readily present to be seized.

Guest Post: The Amidah Project

This post is originally from Chicago Carless, a blog by Michael Doyle, address many important issues for tefilla educators.

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For the past few months, my Reform synagogue has done something most Reform synagogues don’t: we’ve stood and recited a partially silent Amidah, Judaism’s sizeable central prayer. You find the Amidah–which means “standing” in Hebrew, because you stand when you say it–in every Jewish service, whether shacharit (the morning service), mincha (afternoon), or maariv (evening.) Tradition suggests most if not all of the Amidah is recited silently, and most Orthodox and Conservative congregations follow suit.

Yet even with the traditionalizing trend of the past three decades, many Reform congregations pray an abbreviated form of the Amidah, always out loud, and often seated for the prayer’s latter parts. Meaningful passages in Hebrew are often skipped in favor of English intepretations or, simply, left out entirely.

Aside from a few seconds for “silent prayer,” there isn’t often the same opportunity our Orthodox and Conservative brethren have to really be alone with your heartfelt intention.  In fact, a typical Reform Amidah can be far from heartfelt. It’s hard to really go deep with your tradition’s central prayer when your denomination seems afraid of it’s deepest parts.

When we decided to test out a partially silent Amidah (we still chant the first three, long blessings out loud), several people pushed back. Some were afraid they wouldn’t understand the “new” parts in Hebrew. (We use Mishkan T’Filah, Reform’s latest, fully translated and transliterated prayerbook.) Some were afraid they wouldn't know how long to stand or when to sit down. (We sit when we’re individually done.) Some said they’d miss formerly chanted or sung parts. Overall those who pushed back were afraid that they’d miss, essentially, meaning.

What we’ve found is instructive. Some people still want the “old way” back. And, frankly, I would prefer our newly silent Amidah to be one arrow in an overall quiver of ways to approach the Amidah–including our “old way.” Especially in Reform, there’s no reason to leave anybody out. (And I happen to feel quite touched when our cantor sings R’tzei.)

But overall, people seem to like our newly silent Amidah. Why? Because in those long, pungently silent minutes of silent prayer, we are finally (and in Reform, for once) rendered alone–with our thoughts, with our prayer, with our tradition. The experience has knocked many of us out, initially rendering some of us to tears. And that outcome was totally unexpected. Wonderful. Incredible. A blessing. But unexpected.

Maybe that’s how far as Reform Jews we’ve let ourselves become removed from the meaning behind the words we pray–no matter what language we choose to pray in. But the meaning is there if we just listen for it. For some in my congregation, taking ourselves off of our liturgical autopilot for a little while was enough to start to sense why we say the Amidah in the first place. The prayer is truly an emotional journey if you let it be.

I don’t blame any Reform Jew for feeling disconnected from an Amidah recited silently in Hebrew. It just hasn’t been our practice, and not a lot of us talk about our prayer experience publicly. So I will. Over the next few weeks I intend to post a series of blog entries that lay out the Reform versions of core Jewish prayers, beginning with the Amidah (both the Shabbat and weekday versions), in Hebrew transliteration and English translation, accompanied by my thoughts on my emotional experience during each specific blessing or rubric of the liturgy. (Perhaps with video, as well.) After all, I definitely feel an almost exhausting emotional journey during the Amidah. It’s a feeling worth sharing–and most of all, describing. As you may have guessed from the title of this post, I’m calling my new series “The Amidah Project.”

We can’t all be Debbie Friedman, z”l, able to find the most miraculous meanings in seemingly hidden Hebrew corners of the liturgy and set them to catchy modern music. But we can all pause, and read, and listen, and then write and talk about our experience. I invite all of my Jewish readers to do just that. Open your nearest siddur–on Shabbat, the one covered in dust in your closet, or online. Find a part where you always tune out. This time, though, tune in. Read it slowly. Sit with it. Consider what those words might really mean–from Deity, to you. You might come up with nothing. But you might come up hearing that still, small voice.

The basis for our entire tradition.

This post is part of my Amidah Project series–an attempt to examine my personal experience of the core prayers of the normative Reform Jewish liturgy. For more, please browse my Amidah Project archive.

What's Wrong with Texting in Shul?

Are you guilty? Do you touch your phone in shul, check for a message or play a quick level of Angry Birds or Tetris to pass the time during davening?  (I am not talking about those who touch the siddur app in their phone).

Clearly young people today feel more comfortable with technology and social interactions and their own confidence in multitasking, but what exactly is their place in Jewish holy spaces? Previously I have written and shared about technology in the spiritual realm.  But can you pinpoint what's so bad about it?

In my opinion, this is a tell tale sign that the tefilla moment is not engaging and the person is willfully or subconsciously distracted.  We want out students (and fellow daveners) to be in the prayerful moment and to use the time to reflect and transcend, right?  How can you do that, let alone in a room by oneself not to mention it a crowded shul, when the objects (read toys) around pull your focus away?

On a daily basis, I am (unfortunately) often in meetings and it is obvious to me that the people fidgeting on their phones in the meeting don't see the conversation - at that very moment - a priority enough to give fill attention and focus.  I know because when I touch my phone it is because I myself am wandering away.

Isn't that one of the nice aspects of shabbat that we have less mundane distractions?  How do we teach students to overcome the mental and physical distractions that buffer their spiritual space and to teach them to negotiate this challenge during the 'profane' hours of the week?

Two post scripts:

1. You can read the Yeshiva World News article on the topic, Please Turn Off Your Cellphone - I love the interactions!
2. According to the Jewish Virtual Library article Synagogue Customs and Etiquette, one of the "no-no's" is the following:  The synagogue may be one of the last remain sanctuaries to escape cell phones and beepers. They should be turned off before entering.

Is Less Davening More Meaningful?

I have written before how I am personally of the preference that less davening is better davening.  But after some serious reflection this past Shabbat, I firmly want to redact and perhaps contradict what I wrote.

Indeed I think that it in order to get to the level of prayer where shorter davening is meaningful and transcendent, you need to experience marathons of time spent in shul and hours flipping pages in piyyutim and prayers.

On Shabbat, in reading the story (Bamidbar 12:13) of Miriam and Aaron's concern over Moshe's marital situation, I was struck again by the simplicity of Moshe's prayer to heal Miraim's leprosy.

 וַיִּצְעַק מֹשֶׁה, קאֶל-ה" לֵאמֹר:  קאֵל, נָא רְפָא נָא לָה

And Moses cried to Hashem, saying: 

'Heal her now, O Gd, I beseech Thee.'

The authority and power of Moshe's simple prayer stems from his individual greatness and recognized mastery and knowledge of Gd.  He is also known to be a sincere mediator and one that he can pray at great length (see Mt. Sinai 40 days and 40 nights for those doubting).  I think this signifies the key quality for a brief and powerful prayer.

For a more modern example, one small throwaway comment from the President of the United States on a specific topic could send the stock markets or political issues through the roof - whereas my own personal pontifications about the S&P, Bonds, or the Supreme Court will not make the waves at my family dinner table.  The power is in the authority of position and communal value placed in the leader.  Otherwise any student could rise up and say, "get well soon" without moving the congregation.

 Thus, we are moved by Moshe's elegant prayer knowing that he can also daven the long prayer.  My personal conclusion, we need to teach the long form of prayer even though the students probably prefer the short form.  I will enjoy try to enjoy and explore more this paradox.

Shul Options

I have ripped this following list from a large US shul to demonstrate how one (orthodox) shul offers many options for their congregants.  I have tried to protect the name of the shul.  Let me know if you notice any trends that I miss:

Shabbat Services 

Main Sanctuary 9:00AM - This service is the cornerstone of the shul.  The Rabbi’s weekly sermons address timely and timeless issues and speak to the congregants’ relationships with one another and with Hashem. Our Cantor leads the service with melodies and songs that never fail to inspire. 

Hashkama Minyan 7:45AM - This early minyan meets on Shabbat morning. With a close-knit feel, this minyan features a 15 minute shiur taught in conjunction with a hot Kiddush immediately following davening. It is an ideal service for early risers, spouses who want to help acclimate their children to Shabbat morning groups and people looking for a spirited Shabbat morning mini shiur. 

Young Leadership Minyan 9:30AM - This weekly Shabbat morning minyan is the nucleus of the Young Leadership Committee’s social and religious programming. The minyan features a sermon each week followed by a Kiddush which provides a wonderful venue for young community leaders to interact after services every week. 

Carlebach Minyan - This monthly Friday night service meets every Shabbat Mevarchim. Led by our Cantor, this minyan uses the tunes of Shlomo Carlebach to inspire us and transform our Friday night experience. 

Beginners Service 9:30AM - A Saturday morning service designed for people who know little or nothing about Jewish prayer. The Beginners Service is an anxiety free, “no Hebrew-necessary, user friendly” prayer experience that will keep you looking forward to Saturday mornings. Service is followed by Kiddush, refreshments and socializing. 

Sunday and Weekday Services 

On Sundays and legal holidays, Shacharit is held 8:30AM. On weekday mornings, Shacharit is at 7:00AM and 8:00AM. 

Minchah and Maariv - follow the schedule on the calendar. 

Women’s Tehillim 7:15PM - Join us every other Monday evening as we recite the entire Book of Tehillim (Psalms) for those who need our spiritual support and for the safety and well-being of our brothers and sisters in Israel. We divide the Psalms among all members present so that we may articulate a meaningful and complete prayer as a group.

First of all I observe that there are options for early rises and late comers, old and young, beginners and advanced, and those that like to sing and those that want to get it over as soon as possible.

Next, notice that food (no surprise) is a key ingredient to the communal tefilla experience.

Finally, when is everyone together in the same room?  There is a halachik concept of ברוב עם הדרת מלך - "in the great multitude the king's glory is enhanced" - which proposes that it is better for amass more people for a religious experience.  When does this community really get together - to daven or even just to socialize?

Extra (Musaf) Prayers

The Musaf prayer for the Chagim is a very explicit tefilla.  Perhaps it is because my understanding of the Hebrew is adequate, I find the language of this prayer to be very powerful, acknowledging the special moment that is a Jewish holiday.   "Because of our sins, we have been exiled from our lands...." I think this verse draws a direct link to the purpose of our tefillot in reality lacking a temple to bring a sacrifice.  The tefilla's drawing out of the context allows for a reenactment of the temple service of that Biblical holiday and not only mentions the wish to return to a higher/closer level of worship with language, but evokes the people and spirit of the day. 

Usually I am not into extra prayers; I am of the philosophy that less is indeed more.  There is even an element to the Shabbat Musaf that is routine enough for me that it can pass without exceptional notice.  But I do feel I higher level of enjoyment/simcha when davening on the chagim and wonder if I am the only one.  

חג שמח!

A Prayer to Raise Good Children

Privilege me to raise children.... so begins a small tefilla said after candle-lighting on Friday nights.  This moment, when shabbat enters, or better, when we welcome shabbat into our lives, is purposely a moment of pause and prayer.

There is a song to this tefilla that is popular in the Orthodox and yeshivish world and I wanted to share it with the readers here because, as I have written before, sometimes music transforms tefilla and makes it so much easier for us to transcend.

 וזכני לגדל בנים ובני בנים, חכמים ונבונים, אוהבי השם, יראי אלקים, אנשי אמת, זרע קודש, בשם דבקים, ומאירים את העולם בתורה ובמעשים טובים, ובכל מלאכת עבודת הבורא.

Privilege me to raise children and grandchildren who are wise and understanding, who love Hashem and fear Hashem, people of truth, offspring that are holy, who to Hashem are attached, (who) illuminate the world with Torah and with deeds that are good, and with every labor in the service of the Creator. 

Shabbat Shalom