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.

Who is to Blame?

Please read this Jewcy.com article by Devora Meyers Shuls Out for Rosh Hashana.

There is much to this piece, in its honest expression of a common experience for many shul goers, regardless of the style of synagogue they attend.  But while I like Meyers' question, "So what’s the difference between the intellectual discussion that excites me and the prayers that bore me to distraction?" I think her answer is meek.

Let me be clear that I think her answer is correct for her, argued well, and again I add the adjective honest; However, I am starkly reminded of Harold Kushner approach, "What's lacking in you?"

Are we now so self absorbed that we have to always have it our way and that we cannot strive for a communal forum? (do not mistake this as quest for an objective or uniform religious forum).  I get the frustration for prayer in general but for the 3-timers (those that come only three times a year: 2 for Rosh Hashana and once for Yom Kippur) can we justify the opt out?  Great, your bored, the service is long and its not your style - what else can the institutions, teachers, leaders and rabbis do to engage those that don't want what's being served in most tefillot...... It is a good question to ask for every classroom teacher - how do we help nurture not only individuals, but help those individuals share and join into a community of learners and shearers?

I want to end with a quote from Rav Kook from Ein Eyah:

In order to lead human beings on the path of continual improvement, G-d implanted within the human soul the incessant drive to always seek more..."

Here's hoping you have a positive shul experience this week.  

Guest Blog: Making out with G-d

The following article was published at The Times of Israel by blogger Sarah Zadok who is a Jewish educator, a childbirth professional and a freelance writer.  This is a great reflection on how and when can approach your own personal tefilla.  

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I learned early on that prayer is primarily about communication. l learned this first from watching Harold and Maude, then years later in a Torah class. For the most part my M.O. as far as prayer is concerned has been to simply talk to G-d, kind of like I would to a girlfriend – only slightly more reverent.  Also with a bunch of young’uns in tow it has been way more convenient to dial-up wireless, than to show up in a house of prayer for a word.

I’m big on the shoot-from-the-hip, “G-d, please let them make the bus” “Bring her fever down now” and “Wow, thanks for that” kind of pray-er. Kind of Rabbi Nachman style, only shorter and not in a forest.

It’s not that I never pick up a prayer book. I do. It’s just that long, organized prayers, like the High Holiday variety tend to rouse the spiritual ADD in me. I got to thinking about that this past Rosh Hashana, while I was at home busy with all manner of domestic preparation. I could have been at shul with my husband and kids, but I was futzing with honey dishes instead, and as I did, a curious little notion surfaced…

I’m not not doing the Rosh Hashana service because I have to be busy with food prep… I’m not praying because I don’t want to.

Prayer is an intimate experience, like kissing on the lips and I’m not always in the mood to take that step with G-d.

Sometimes I want to sit with my arms folded hard in front of my chest, and wait for Him to woo me.

After the rocket fire we’ve endured, the soldiers and citizens we’ve lost to terror, the tears, blood and sweat that we endure – daily – to live in our land…  illness, pain, death, both personal and global… I want Him outside my bedroom window with a boom box playing Peter Gabriel.

So instead of a deep soul-baring session, I pulled a slip-out-the-back-Jack, spiritual version of “I’ve got a headache” and got busy peeling pomegranates and arranging fresh dates on the table.

It’s a justified stance, but as I watched the candles flicker beyond the table, I allowed my eyes to adjust to a wider lens, and a more generous perspective began to take hold.

In spite of my slapdash indifference towards G-d– my candles are still lit, the table is set, and I’m still thinking about Him. We have a relationship.

I don’t always appreciate the way He pulls rank. I have very little understanding about why He does what He does, but in spite of that, I’m in this for the long haul. I continue to ask impossible questions, and push for impossible answers, and search for meaning in the hot mess. I’ve learned enough from my earthly relationships to know that there is more to making it work than what I want, what I deserve and what I think I see.

Hey, it’s not always soft and fuzzy, or even screen-worthy, but it’s real, and it’s fertile ground for some steamy stuff.

You know how Jews attend Rosh Hashana and Yon Kippur services more than any other time in the year? (Ever heard of Purim people? Waaay more fun). That kind of attendance doesn’t happen because we’re looking for a soul-loofah, or because of the nostalgic melodies, or because Mom says “we have to.” That may be part of it, but mostly, we go because regardless of how disappointing our lover may be, we still have a basic human need for love and connection. It’s no small thing that after 5773 years, with all the legitimate reasons we have to be mad, and sad and broken, we (a lot of us… maybe even enough of us) still show up. 

We continue to dialog, even when we don’t want to.

That’s what lovers do – we push and pull at each others hearts until we feel something deep and honest.  That’s what a relationship is.

Even in our pain and grief, when it seems that there is very little to be grateful for… even when we’re mad at Him, He still turns out fabulous sunsets, really good mangos, and allows us to read self-indulgent op-eds if we so choose. When I’m really being honest with myself, I see that even when I don’t want Him to, He shows up all the time, arms wide open, ready to take me as I am.

And, at the end of each day, whatever my mood may be, I’d rather go to sleep at night giving G-d a lack-luster peck on the cheek than walk out of the house all together.