Prayers from the (Sacred) Trash

I am currently reading Sacred Trash; The Lost and Found World of the Cairo Geniza written by Adina Hoffman and Peter Cole (published by Nextbook 2011).  Fascinating stuff, moderns combing through ancient texts.

Last night I came across the following passage that I felt compelled to share here.  In reviewing part of the saga of the discovery and analysis, the authors tell how one scholar (Davidson) finds a text with both Greek and Hebrew letters and identifies an important Hebrew text as a piyyut.  This leads to explanation of rich history of such a poetic tradition which enriched the prayer service in the late fifth century ce:

However exotic or ingrown their compositions might seem by our own standards, at their best payyetanim produced real poetry, sometimes of a major sort.  A vast allusive range; a feeling for dramatic possibility; an ability to extend scriptural narration; a varied repertoire of virtuoso musical strategies; and above all a developed sense of the tradition's homiletical potential and the congregation's hunger for the nourishment it might afford - all these were used to intensify the liturgical moment, to suck marrow from the seemingly dry bones of routinized prayer and to make it matter afresh, as the Mishna demanded: "Whosoever makes his prayer a fixed task," it cautions, "his prayer is not a true supplication." Other sources echo that call: "One's prater should be made new each day," the Palestinian Talmud tells us, and "As new water flows from the well each hour, so Israel renews its song." Extending that notion, other writes still have likened the payyetanim to angels, which - according to one midrash - are created by God for specific missions and vanish after completing them.  (p.110)

I have written previously about the concept of a trained mavens which reaches back to this tradition of the payyetanim, but is clear that our davening today has disconnected from such colorful flourishing (except for maybe Friday night davening).

One final comment - interesting that 1500 years from now, scholars might actual find bar-mitzvah tapes or CD's to hear the sounds and trop used during our davening and song, but we are restricted to the visual image of this poetry without the pleasure of the sounds and effect it had.  Sad and fascinating.

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.