Fitting In vs Standing Out

I think that one of the common experiences for most people going to a synagogue is that they really want to find a comfortable spot to settle in. It is interesting to observed that atmosphere of a shul is one that there are not so many opportunities to draw attention; having an aliyah is a way of being honored, giving a dvar Torah or announcements clearly sticks out, otherwise the main characters standing out and performing are the ones leading the service.

The Rambam, in his Mishne Torah Book of Service, explores the many features or defects that disqualify a kohen from serving in the Temple.  The list is long - from deformed limbs to drippy eyes to chronic depression.  Learning through this extensive list of (dis)qualifications I came to better understand the meta-goal of such restrictions. The performance of the Temple was to be perpetual and perfect and not defined by personality. Regardless of who was the kohen, they were to be dressed the same and gesture the same to transcend the individual to represent the community.

It is interesting to compare this approach to the shaliach tzibur, the prayer leader of today.  Occasionally the chazan might be too showy or choose a tune that is out of sync with the congregations mood - but the ideal shaliach tzibur carries the nusach to become swallowed into the moment.  One Rosh Hashanah I was invited to daven with a family minyan - an amazingly intimate tefilla that was family friendly (read: child tolerant).  The shaliach tzibur commented to me during kiddush that it would be otherwise weird for him to invite 20 friends over to his living room for him to sing a selection of songs.  However it was not awkward - his selection of nigunim brought this temporary community together in prayer and blurred the lines between congregant and chazan.  A chazan who is standing out may just be preforming to the wrong audience.

I believe the Rambam's categorization of the "Laws for entering the Temple" offer a stern reminder that we cannot succumb to radical individualism.  Even more so, the inclination of people to be wallflowers at synagogue is normal - rather it is the challenge of the prayer leaders (and educators and rabbis) to arouse the attention and energy of the crowd to the moment.  Fitting in at shul is a skill - one that I think is the key goal for most Jewish educational institutions.

Shared-Post: Giving Prayer a Prayer of a Chance

The following article was published on the 25th of May by Aryeh Ben David in the Times of Israel.  It offers a honest, pointed, and pedagogically sound theory - so why won't administrators and teachers try this approach?  Cliches are reflection of an effectual prayer and I am thinking more and more that we need to reboot our teaching of tefilla.
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Giving Prayer a Prayer of a Chance

Rav Kook writes that one of the signs of the coming of the Messianic Era is that people will begin to hate rabbis. I think we’re getting pretty close.

Why hate rabbis? Because they will still be consumed with the small stuff, the details – and people will want more.

Organized prayer is an example. It’s just not working.

The overwhelmingly widespread disaster of organized prayer in religious high schools and synagogues is impossible to ignore – yet the rabbis keep offering the same worn-out clichés.

It’s not the system’s fault – you just have to try harder

This is how we've always done it and it worked for our grandparents

It’s a slippery slope and if we tamper with anything, the whole system will fall apart

From “lo l’shma – ba l’shma” (doing without connection will eventually bring connection)

It provides community-building

The system is not working – and we’re living the Emperor’s clothes story by choosing to ignore the extent of the problem.

As educators, we know that if one student fails a subject, it’s his fault. But if the whole class fails – then it is the teacher’s fault. Well, what if the whole school fails? What if the whole district fails? What if the whole city fails? Then there is a systematic problem going on which is bigger than any individual student, class, school, or district. That is what we have on our hands.

I was shocked by one particularly ghastly personal educational experience. I asked many orthodox rabbis and educators the following question: If a kid was having trouble connecting to organized prayer and you could look into your crystal ball and saw two potential alternatives – which path would you advise him?

Either: The boy could take a month off from praying the prayer book and just sit, meditate on God, look for God’s footprints in the world, and then after a month begin to say just a few lines – but only lines he was personally connected to and had meaning for him. Then he would keep slowly adding lines for the next months. And your crystal ball told you that this would dramatically improve his prayer focus and depth for the rest of his life.

Or: He would keep praying, trying harder, but there would be no significant deepening of his prayer life for the rest of his life.

To my shock and dismay – EVERY single rabbi and educator answered me that they would not advise taking the first route, even if they knew 100% that it would have positive effects for the next 50 years!

Well, I guess I am a heretic or maybe just an apikoris – but I don’t get the educational wisdom of that approach.

Personally, I took the first route, stopped davening for several month. I sat in tallit and tefillin, reflected on my relationship with God, and very slowly began to add selected words and phrases from the prayer book. The effect on my prayer life has been astounding. I really look forward to praying now. It is personal, meaningful, and from my heart.

The Talmud itself says that the core prayer experience should be “the work of the heart.” We have to bring our hearts into prayer – and today, a vast majority of guys keep telling me that they are just going through the motions.

The relationship with God is a core Jewish and human experience. The morning conversation creates a template for all the other conversations during the day. When kids (and adults) begin the day by having a mindless, unfocused, mumbling, “how long is this going to take and why is the shaliach tzibur taking so long” conversation with God – how does this portend for all of that day’s succeeding relationships?

Fixed and organized prayer serves a need to bring the community together and provides a structure for the formal, external exigencies of prayer. But now kids and adults are wanting more – wanting something that also evokes and responds to the inner voice of their heart and soul. Something that they are connected to and has personal meaning.

If we do not stop and consider how to give it to them – they will simply check out, or go somewhere else. It’s happening all around us.

Let’s not be consumed by the details – the time has come for more. The slope isn't that slippery. Isn't it time we started recognizing that we have a systemic failure on our hands and start seeking beyond the cliches?

Watching You Daven

How does your davening change when you know someone is watching you?  I am not speaking about your teacher or rabbi, who might peek over to see if you are chatting with a neighbor, on the right page or have fallen asleep (I have seen this last one quite a bit).

I just got off an airplane trip where it was apparent that the person sitting next to me was so fascinated at the Jewish approach to davening that he was carefully studying each and every one of my moves.  For me, this emphasized the performance aspect to our worship in that we are proscribed to follow the directions and script of the specific tefilla. One equally needs to imbue their personal imprint onto the text and make it a 'service of the heart' but how honest can it be when you know another person is watching you?  

I have had this feeling before, when I first was the shaliach tzibur, leading the tefilla. As the leader I appropriated my concentration to proper enunciation, hitting the exact starting points and choosing good tunes and neglected the greater necessity to put my heart into the words that were exiting your mouth. Further as the leader it has happened (only to me?) that I was more fearful and concerned of the people staring behind me than the greater audience in the heavens which led me to have a near Olympic focus on the performance.  

Someone is always watching you daven - I figure the important lesson is that you need to have tefilla attitude that you must purely connect to your prayers and do your best, regardless of who may actually be paying attention.  

Prayer By Proxy

The idea of a 'shaliach' is common in Jewish literature; this is the notion of having someone represent you, or to literally be your 'messenger' in certain situations. In prayer, the leader is called the shaliach tzibur - the community messenger - and leads the group in communal prayer and holy repetitions that cannot be side as sole individuals.

What about hiring someone to do the praying for you? Today I read on Tablet Magazine - in "Pay to Pray" by Tamar Fox - a critique of the growing industry of services offered for those who pay people to daven on behalf of others; here is the link: http://www.tabletmag.com/life-and-religion/73355/pay-to-pray/

I think Fox's piece is well thought out and cites both anecdotal and textual sources to highlight her point that paying people to pray on one's behalf is a perplexing and perhaps unproductive trend (unless you are the ones profiting off of the payments). As educators, I think it is important to have in mind Fox's notion of "farmed out prayer" as a natural byproduct of a listless prayer experience. The paradox of Tefilla for many young Jewish adults is that they have internalized the message of the ritual need and great importance of prayer but struggle to actually practice the spiritual experience. The performance regularly is a disappointment but there remains a faith that someone else can deliver their prayer and achieve results that they were not worthy of reaching.

This, I believe, is the same feeling that propels many more people to go to synagogues for the High Holy Days or draws them to the Kotel. This feeling is a need that someone else can bring them higher - which again is a kosher notion to Jewish philosophy. The danger o this approach is in believing that only the shaliach has the true connection. In essence this is an issue of insiders and outsiders. Insiders feel ownership, know the rules and are familiar with the territory of the experience. Outsiders are strangers, need direction to function appropriately, and lack the terminology to fit it and figure the best way to fast track their goal is to hire (farm out to) an insider. Our goal as educators is to make our students passionate and dynamic insiders.