Is it OK to Talk during Davening?

The following is a long and in-depth looking into why people talk during davening.  Written by Irving N. Levitz PhD, it is titled: Talking During Tefilla: Understanding the Phenomenon?  I do NOT recommend that you discuss it during shul (sort of creates a paradox) but it is definitely a worthwhile read.

The author thoroughly covers the factors that lead to ongoing chatter in shul despite the obvious prohibition - I anecdotal have noticed a direct correlation between shuls that have "no talking" signs prominently displayed the higher amount of chit-chat during the tefilla.

While I mostly agree with the proposed steps to change the atmosphere of davening in shuls, I think there is a significant lack of rigor or desire exists to implement them.  I also fear that the author agrees with me; note the final sentence:

For those who believe that the Final Redemption is dependent on halachic standards of communal prayer, redemption itself may have to wait until the collective conscience of the Orthodox community can be awakened to feel a discomfort with the current norm, and a determination to change it.

 I will be thinking of this article every friday night when we chant:

הִתְעורְרִי הִתְעורְרִי 

כִּי בָא אורֵךְ קוּמִי אורִי 

עוּרִי עוּרִי שִׁיר דַּבֵּרִי 

כְּבוד ה' עָלַיִךְ נִגְלָּהּ 

Rouse yourselves, Rouse yourselves

Your light is coming, ruse up and shine

Awaken! Awaken! Utter a song

The glory of Hashem is revealed upon you

Talking, Davening, and ADD

I came across this anecdote on the web without a proper source:

The Minsker Rabbi was very angry with his congregation because they always chattered while prayers were being said. One Shabbat after services, he noticed a small group of people standing and talking. 

“This is something I can’t understand, my good people,” the Rabbi said. “During the services you must talk, but why must you talk after services?”

In a way, talking and davening are the same skill of the tongue but are seemingly mutually exclusive in their practice - how can we teach students to focus their brains and mouths for the correct purposes? 

One great solution can be found in the Mishna in Brachot (5:1) which states the following: 

• A person must be in the proper frame of mind for davening. Therefore, one should not daven immediately after playing around or after an argument, but should wait a few moments to calm down.

I would argue that this is a great first step to make the 'switch' into a more meditative and reflective use of speech and one that I observe is often under practiced. Pause - wait to see if you can refocus on the purpose of your tefilla.  Otherwise, we are just producing a cohort of daveners with an attention deficit disorder to their own spiritual needs.  

Silence and Speech in Davening

I often read the Kvetcing Editor (@The Chavia) - a fascinating blog and authentic Jewish voice - and yesterday came across a post titled "Talking in Shul and the Sudlikover Rebbe".  Check it out to see the jumps in the article and the tangential information.  The key passage that struck me was cited from an anonymous blogger - A simple Jew - in the form of several challenging question:

If we are given 22.5 hours a day when we are permitted to speak with others, why must we encroach on the 1.5 hours that are set aside solely for our conversation with Hashem? Isn't it He alone who provides for all our needs? If we really believe Hashem hears the words we say, how could we ever even think of speaking to others when we are standing before Him in His house? We need to stop speaking to others when we are speaking to Him!

I try to do this in my own personal tefilla - but how scalelable is it for a community or minyan?

In Shul to Talk or to Pray?

I am travelling and spent this past Shabbat at a synagogue that shall remain anonymous (to protect the names of the guilty/innocent). The room was mostly full during what is called the 'main minyan' Shabbat morning. I had the following curious thought:

If you gathered 300 people together for the sole purpose of socializing over a two hour time period - do you think that people would spontaneously breakout into prayer? The reverse of this happened in a not so surprising fashion this Shabbat.

Rather than focus on the issue of praytalk, I'd like to focus on the challenge of matching up one's expectations for a spiritual connection with the subjectivity of place and time. How can we get the most the most out of our time in a tefilla? Let's explore some options this week, but first, a reader of the blog submitted this piece from Yedidya Meir, originally published in Haaretz 15 November 2007.

Run for your life
By Yedidya Meir

One of the remarks a religiously observant person hears most in his life is "Let me tell you what bugs me most about religion ..." Usually the speaker begins by praising Judaism and its ways: "Listen, Judaism has really beautiful things to offer. The shiva [week-long mourning period], for example, is utterly enthralling." Then comes the bit that irritates them. For example, this unnecessary prohibition on traveling on Shabbat. Why? Who needs it? Or all this gobbledygook about "fruits of the sea." A complete nonstarter.

I have a great many responses, believe me, but sometimes I too get the urge to say what bugs me most about religion. It happens almost every day. You are standing and reciting a prayer that is important to you, that speaks to you and which you had planned to recite with total intentionality - and suddenly it's over. You felt nothing. That is, you were definitely concentrating, but on completely different things: the kids, the bank account, why there is still no replacement for the Channel 2 news anchor.

A brief explanation is in order for those readers who by chance do not pray. In contrast to the Sukkot lulav (palm branch), the Shabbat candles or the tefillin (phylacteries), prayer itself is a non-physical commandment. It is difficult and challenging spiritual work. For the greatest rabbis and for righteous people, those for whom prayer is a way of life, it may be easy, but for a rank-and-file Jew, it is very hard to recharge the prayer with new meaning each time. But that is exactly what the person is required to do. Someone once wrote that good prayer should be like a train journey: the landscape doesn't change, yet at every moment you see it from a different vantage point. So it is in prayer: The text is the same text, but a person journeys all his life, he does not stand in one place, and on each occasion he is meant to experience the prayer from the inner point he has reached.

That's the theory; now for the reality. I come to the synagogue on Shabbat morning, recite "Nishmat kol hai" ("The breath of every living being") - one of the most meaningful prayers - but feel nothing. And then, on Monday evening, while on the treadmill at home, clad in shorts and an undershirt, at the third kilometer, I hear via the iPod the song "Nishmat kol hai" - the same words - sung by Shlomo Carlebach, and am suddenly seized by tremendous excitement and potent intentionality: "The breath of every living being shall bless thy name, O Lord our God, and the spirit of all flesh shall ever glorify and extol thee, O our King. From everlasting to everlasting thou art God. But for thee we have no King, Deliverer and Savior to rescue, redeem and give sustenance and to show mercy in all times of trouble and distress; yea, we have no Sovereign but thee".

And the Jew goes nuts. Why? Because on Shabbat, when this prayer is part of the service, I wanted it so much, I absolutely craved it, but it just didn't happen. And now, of all times, on a treadmill in shorts - suddenly it comes? That, people, is the most annoying thing about religion.

According to a sample poll I conducted, I am not alone. Other observant Jews also find it easier to connect with God while cooking, driving, shopping, even while doing the dishes, with Jewish music in the background. For just that reason I recently decided to change my approach: When the Shabbat morning prayer arrives as you're running on the treadmill Monday evening, just to flow with it. If not on Shabbat, let it at least be on Monday. Athletic prayer is fine, too.

And then, after the song ends, after the thrill of the words "Therefore, the limbs which thou has fashioned for us, and the soul which thou hast breathed into us, and the tongue which thou hast set in our mouth, lo, they shall thank, bless, exalt and revere thee. They shall proclaim thy sovereignty, O our King" - I wipe off the sweat with a towel, tuck the undershirt into the shorts - for dignity's sake - and say in my heart:

"May it be thy will that this treadmill be as important to thee as though it were my seat in the synagogue, and this iPod as though it were a prayer book, and this towel that is wrapped around my neck as though it were a tallit, and may the thrill I felt in this song be as important to thee as though it were a prayer at its time and its place."

And then I go on running.

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Let me know your most surprising locale for positive tefilla experience!

Don't Talk, Just Daven

Have you ever thought about the correlation between shuls that have signs up warning or forbidding people to talk during davening and the continued proliferation of noise?

I think there is a inverse relationship in that congregations that are quiet (and respectful) have no signs ups, whereas the ones that have to shush people or stop the Torah reading in the middle, have LOTS of signs up or notices in the shul bulletins.

What can we learn from this? I have my own conclusions.