I Pray That These Things Never End

Wednesday night marks the beginning of Israel's Holocaust Martyrs' and Heroes' Remembrance Day and I thought it appropriate to share a tefilla thought for this day of reflection.

My son came home today from first grade and shared that he had learned about Hannah Szenes and the words to her classic poem, "Eli, Eli" "My God, My God":

אלי, אלי, שלא יגמר לעולם החול והים רשרוש של המים ברק השמים תפילת האדם

My God, My God, I pray that these things never end, The sand and the sea, The rustle of the waters, Lightning of the Heavens, The prayer of Man.

What do you think it is about prayer that makes it so powerful and eternal, even in the face of the Shoah?  For me, looking at my son as we sang this poem, I was almost speechless to explain to him the context and power of Hannah Szenes's words.

The Transformative Imperative

I think that Chief Rabbi Lord Dr. Rev.the honorable Jonathan Sacks is one of the most eloquent Jewish thinkers of our time (for those looking to expand their mode of thinking about Judaism, please read the six Faith Lectures from 2000-01 - phenomenal!).   Recently he emailed me his thoughts on the weekly Torah parshat Shmeni - which contained the following observation:

The dietary laws in Shmini parallel the prohibition given to Adam. As then, so now, a new era in the spiritual history of humankind, preceded by an act of creation, is marked by laws about what one may and may not eat.

Why? As with sex, so with eating: these are the most primal activities, shared with many other forms of life. Without sex there is no continuation of the species. Without food, even the individual cannot survive. These, therefore, have been the focus of radically different cultures. On the one hand there are hedonistic cultures in which food and sex are seen as pleasures and pursued as such. On the other are ascetic cultures - marked by monastic seclusion - in which sex is avoided and eating kept to a minimum. The former emphasize the body, the latter the soul. Judaism, by contrast, sees the human situation in terms of integration and balance. We are body and soul. Hence the Judaic imperative, neither hedonistic nor ascetic, but transformative. We are commanded to sanctify the activities of eating and sex. From this flow the dietary laws and the laws of family purity (niddah and mikveh), two key elements of kedushah, the life of holiness.

As this is a blog about tefilla, and not about food, sex, or hedonistic cultures, I wanted to mediate here on Sack's point about this transformative Jewish imperative to balance ascetic and hedonistic impulses.  I fear that so much of how tefilla, and Judaism in general, is being taught today doesn't reflect such an imperative but rather sways to the extremes of a particular practice.

As someone who feels the call to pray but feels a tension between personal worship and public practice, perhaps it is best to characterize this as a larger process of Judaic transformation.   Rather than push the practice of prayer in one direction, a celebration of Carlebacian hora dance, or to another monastic Yom Kipur confession warped in a talit, we should teach an imperative to navigate the spiritual and cultural world around us.  Perhaps this call to pray is just this imperative that Sacks describes; otherwise we are just left with the obligation to pray which leads to the very beginning questions about the sad state of tefilla today.  

Guest Post: Teach the Way you Daven

This was originally posted in the These and Those Blog of the Pardes Institute by Esther Mazal:

Since I lifted off from the Holy Land on February 23th, life has definitely been a whirlwind on what I affectionately like to refer to as “My Whirlwind North American Tour” (sounds snazzy, huh?). From New York City to Boston to Detroit (to Toronto for an impromptu drop-in in my hometown, then back to Detroit for work on Monday!) – it’s definitely been an intense ride.

No hoards of fans or seas of camera flashes, no VIP status or personal dressing rooms, instead my “tour” has been filled with appearances at every Jewish Day School in the Boston area, finding kosher snacks to pack for my plane rides, and an every-growing stack of long-distance charges on my phone bill.

Yes, it’s a lot less glitz, but a lot more growth.

And I’m channeling my “inner actress” not towards the end of making Steven Spielberg’s latest script come alive, but instead to making theTorah come alive – classic and timeless, always a best-seller.

I came into this experience the way I do with every other big project – cramming like a maniac before I go, needing to be completely prepared, which obviously never works out anyway.  But I was especially anxious about something that had been plaguing me throughout this year, something which my exceptionally kind and patient teaching coach(shout-out Susan Yammer) definitely got an earful of during every one of our coaching meetings – that when it came to teaching, I was just not creative. Not creative at all.

Being creatively-challenged for me felt the same as standing at the foot of a massive, towering mountain that I just could not climb over, with no way around it. Now usually, I’m a fantastic mountain-climber; agile, focused, blessed with good balance, and I always have the right shoes for the mission. But for years, in every teaching context I’ve ever been in – be it student teaching at a Jewish high school as part of my Bachelors of Education degree, or running Shabbat programming for little kids at my shul, this mountain loomed in front of me for every lesson plan. And no matter what, I felt like I just couldn’t find a way to overcome it. Then, during our week-long conference at Hebrew College, my whole teaching world got flipped upside down in one single-handed sweep.

In one single line of timeless advice from President of Hebrew College Prof. Danny Lehmann, I was given all I ever needed to overcame that towering mountain.

We were sitting around the conference table at a break from our seminar, and I was probably griping about this handicap. It was right after I davened Mincha (=prayed the afternoon prayer), in a little nook I found in the hallway of Hebrew College, right outside our classroom. Now davening for me, truly, is my cherished jewel. Each time, it is an incredibly powerful and cherished spiritual experience – my imagination takes me on a journey through each individual bracha, visualizing each one as it comes to life in full colour and sparkles, a whole other beautiful world behind my eyelids. And in that world of prayer, my imagination reigns Queen. So Prof. Lehmann simply said, in response to my gripe: “Just teach the way you daven”.

“Teach the way you daven”. What a chiddish.

Since that moment, here at Frankel Jewish Academy in West Bloomfield Detroit, that’s exactly what I’ve been doing – from oodles of construction paper to colorful Wiki worksheets to home-made video assignments, my imagination has found a new territory to reign Queen. Maybe, because a lot of davening goes into those lesson plans, too. And now, standing in full-fledged Wonderwoman pose on the top of that towering mountain, my creative juices are endlessly flowing, just looking for outlets and lessons to create, and I couldn’t feel more alive than when I am teaching. I am so in my element, and I am so incredibly happy.

Thank you, Prof. Lehmann, for changing my classroom.

Passing Over

The blog posts are off this week in celebration of Pesach.

Follow @davenspot on twitter for recommendations for interesting articles or the latest and greatest in tefilla news (even during Pesach).  Chag Samech חג שמח!

Educator Guest Post: Tzvi D. Daum

I am ever looking for educators that are experimenting with successful approaches to davening. If you, or someone you know, dabbles in the craft of teaching tefilla, please suggest they contact the blog.  

The following post is from Tzvi D. Daum, an experienced educator who actively incorporates technology into his classroom.  He is also the creator of TorahSkills.org. 

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In my school, I daven together with a group of 6-8 graders with the type of background I described in my Lookjed post.. many of them come from homes where parents hardly go to shul and if they do.... I find that even in very religious schools teffillah is very hard for this particular age group and I believe it is a struggle all around. As such, our main focus has been to train students about how to "act" during davening. The number one rule being not disturb others who wish to daven (talking etc) and to respect the sanctity of a shul, keep siddur open to the place etc. Hopefully once they get older they will know how to act in a shul and feel comfortable there. My understanding is that for better or for worse we are not the only ones with this attitude...

Having said that we do speak twice a week during Shacharit about the importance of prayer and different aspects of it. Also, we recently introduced a "Minyonaires Club" where students are graded in four general areas 1) coming on time 2) Not talking 3) Saying certain parts of davening out loud (and the fourth category escapes me at the moment...maybe it is having the place)...in any event, the daily results are put on a chart in the hallway and students enjoy checking it. Basically one successful day entitles students to an ice cream at lunch, a successful week is some other prize and after a month there is a catered lunch and the students have their pictures hanging on the wall in shul as members of the club (there is some leeway for the occasional messup). I apologize for not being up on all the details as I don't actually administer the program, however I can certainly speak to the ones who do and get you some feedback as to its effectiveness to date. I would say we introduced it about six weeks ago. I find at this age you will have students who will naturally daven, others who simply won't and most are probably a couple of shades in between.

Tzvi D. Daum

Is the Synagogue a Relic?

The following is an article taken from the The Jewish Daily Forward's Blog section, published March 23rd 2012 by Rabbi Shmuly Yanklowitz (newly minted on the top 50 Rabbis list).  Titled "Is the Synagogue a Relic", Yanklowitz eloquently raises many serious questions about how to transmit the skill of davening to our students.
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Many Jews today claim that they are “spiritual not religious,” that organized religion is not relevant, or that they would rather spend their free time alone than with others. Those who attend synagogue weekly often reserve the service, especially the sermon, for a special naptime. Others prefer a 20–person basement setting for a quick prayer service rather than a formal, large gathering at shul. Around two-thirds of Americans claim to be members of a house of worship, which is more than 25% higher than Jewish synagogue membership. Is the synagogue becoming extinct? If so, should we seek to prevent extinction?

At its worst, synagogue is rife with factionalism and small-mindedness, a place to mumble irrelevant words and snooze during an out of touch sermon, and later nosh on stale chips at kiddush while discussing the stock market and the latest gossip. Synagogues spend their limited funds on plaques, high-end scotch and a new social hall rather than on adequately paying staff and investing in learning programs. Congregants drive $50,000 cars but request assistance on the membership dues. The experience is predictable, tedious and boring. It resembles a business transaction, where one has paid membership dues for the right to services, more than a sacred obligation. The staff and board do not lead with Jewish values but act as management as if the congregation was just another business venture. The ritual is empty and the action is either inadequate or nonexistent.

Leading such a congregation is virtually impossible. The rabbi is required to perform four full-time jobs, take 3 am phone calls, act as the scapegoat for all failures, and also please each congregant while handling critiques with a smile. Congregants are forthcoming with complaints, but few volunteer when they can watch the football game on television. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel observed: “The modern temple suffers from a severe cold. The services are prim, the voice is dry, the temple is clean and tidy… no one will cry, the words are stillborn.”

Some see patterns of dysfunction. Professor James Kugel identified three kinds of harmful synagogues: the 1) “Ceremonial Hall Synagogue,” 2) “Nostalgia Center,” and 3) “Davening Club.” In the Ceremonial Hall, the congregants neither care to participate nor learn about what is really going on; they just wish to be an entertained audience. Mimicking a Broadway show, shul becomes entertainment, and the rabbi and cantor get a score for their performance. At the Nostalgia Center, the rabbi is often the youngest one present, and Judaism is about sitting where one’s grandfather sat, saying kaddish, and telling old Yiddish jokes. Everything is wrong but nothing should be changed. The congregation’s traditions and customs trump shared values, meaning, connection, and opportunities for growth. At the Davening Club, there is a false semblance of prayer intensity, but it more closely resembles a mumble-festival, without any real spiritual uplift.

On the other hand, at its best, shul can be a transformative spiritual experience. Eager congregants roll up their sleeves to build the community, providing an open, relevant experience for all. Prayer centers can be welcoming, participatory, and collaborative. Most importantly, a strong synagogue is driven by shared values and a sense of mission and purpose. Congregants look inside the walls of the prayer community for intimate connection and reciprocal comfort, and look outside for opportunities to reach out and give back. Peter Steinke, author of “Healthy Congregations,” explains that congregations need to move from being clergy-focused to mission-focused. Rather than relying upon clergy to inspire and entertain the congregation, everyone is involved in a system of involvement, encouragement and teaching.

A healthy congregation takes effort to build. A diverse population attends shul for very different reasons: children, singles, empty nesters, intermarried families, etc. Each population must be honored and be given a seat at the table. Too often, the elderly members of the congregation complain that there are not enough young people at the congregation to “keep the tradition alive”; to improve, they must be willing to adapt the experience to invite a new audience.

For the synagogue to survive and be relevant in the 21st century, congregants must seek authentic prayer experiences, enrichment through learning, and a contribution to community building. One does not just show up when convenient, but to support others consistently. Do not sit back and blame a poor prayer experience on the rabbi. If you find yourself unable to achieve meaningful prayer, learning, and volunteer experiences, consider changing shuls (and search within yourself). The heart must actually be open if one wishes to be inspired. But do not quit the synagogue enterprise — it has survived thousands of years for a reason.

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Rabbi Shmuly Yanklowitz is the founder and president of Uri L’Tzedek. His book, “Jewish Ethics & Social Justice: A Guide for the 21st Century,” is now available.

Rav Schachter's Advice for Teaching Tefilla

I have been meaning to share the following interview With Rav Schachter about leading tefillah in day schools (I found this and other resources on tefilla at YU's High Sschool Chinuch Community website).

Whether you know who Rav Hershel Schachter is or not, I think that this video offers a candid glimpse into Orthodox Judaim's educational approach and qualms about tefilla.   Rarely in life do you see an interview of someone tops in their fields talking about the basic A, B's and C's of their subject field and pedagogical approaches for high schools students.

I am amazed at this interviewer's (Rabbi Kenny Schiowitz) approach to the challenging scenarios for contemporary educators and what questions were posed and not posed to this scholar.  Further, it is important to note how Rav Schachter is very open that he doesn't have much practical experience with implementing such approaches in the classrooms "with younger children".  The following are my gleanings from the Rav Schachter's answers:

• Tefilla should be considered optional in schools were students would want to opt out.
• Teaching the siddur is more important than teaching gmera (Talmud)
• Even Rav Schachter abbreviates his tefilla to accommodate what the community does - but it is important for teachers to be with their students, even if you have to interrupt your own tefilla.  
• The repetition of the leader (hazerat ha'shatz) could be dropped from school tefilla as was the practice of Morrocan Jews following the legal ruling of the Rambam (which reflected a low level of interest in the practice).
• Orthodox kids are not connecting to davening and this needs to be addressed seriously and with educational flexibility. 

As an educator, I think this session opens a lot of questions regarding how tefilla is working in schools today.  Are there Orthodox schools that are implementing any of Rav Schachter's approaches?

Best to end with his final words, "oy, we all have to improve in our davening!"