Ask
NOT What Your Service Can Do For You…
This
Friday evening, Cantor Mordecai and I will take a field trip with some congregants,
attending services in Manhattan at a place that has been called the “Next Big
Thing” in the movement to revitalize prayer.
Services will also take place back here, at the usual time, with Katie
Kaplan leading (thanks, Katie!). If you
would like to join us in NYC at Romemu, contact the cantor or myself; and even
if you can’t make it, their website is worth a
peak.
Recently,
the cantor and I also attended a daylong conference on “Prayer as Practice,” organized
by the Institute for Jewish Spirituality.
where we shared ideas on how to instill services with greater intensity and significance.
This is a high priority objective here,
and we have recently enhanced our Friday Night services even more by bringing
Beth Styles aboard.
We
are now ready to take the next step, and that step involves each of us.
Typically
when we enter the synagogue for services, we ask ourselves questions like,
“What is the rabbi going to say today?” or “Will I be inspired by the music?”
or “How can I survive until the Kiddush?”
I’m proposing that we need to
change the focus of those questions and become more active participants. This might sound like I am calling for a Kennedy-esque
moment, i.e. “Ask not what the service can do for you…. but what you can do for
the service.”
Not
exactly.
I
prefer to take the “not” out of that plea.
I think it is perfectly fine for us to ask what the service can
do for us. Yes, by all means, ASK! And when you do that, something magical will
begin to happen.
We
should ask that question, but the key is to ask it before we walk in the
door. In other words, we need to enter the room with a goal in mind.
We should be able to articulate to
ourselves just what it is we need from that service and what we want our
encounter with the prayers to do for us.
·
Some might be looking to the service
for inspiration to effect social change in the world, to work for the liberation
of oppressed minorities, to help the homeless or the hungry, to work toward an
end to gun violence, child abuse or climate change. A number of prayers can help us along that
path, along with readings in the supplement and personal reflections. But it’s the experience as a whole that can
give us hope, some strength in the face of the endless frustrations and
setbacks that we all face when trying to repair the world. The service both
grounds us and propels us forward. It gives a sense that our exhausting struggles
aren’t in vain.
·
Others might be seeking a
deeper connection to Israel and Jewish peoplehood. I can’t chant Lecha Dodi, for example,
without seeing the gorgeous mountains around Safed in my mind’s eye – or the
people at my summer camp gathered at sunset .
Hashkivenu keeps bringing me back to moments when Israelis were especially
vulnerable. Plus. the use of Hebrew
connects me in a profound way to Jews everywhere and from every generation,
past, present and future.
·
For others, the service is that
safe place in which to work out our own inner conflicts, seeking
guidance and comfort in the face of relationship issues, job related stress
or health crises. It’s a place where we can be alone-together…and never
lonely.
·
For others, the service is a
time to cultivate positive ethical qualities like patience,
optimism (or, on a more spiritual level, hope), listening, empathy,
spontaneity, or self discipline. Prayer
itself is a discipline – and the act
of committing to attend public worship on a regular basis can anchor us, just
as a commitment to regular exercise or yoga might. For many who come to our services now, they
can’t imagine NOT being here.
·
Some might be motivated by the
struggle to forge a more personal relationship with God. “Struggle” is the operative term here. The very term Israel MEANS to struggle with
God. In a real sense, it’s a struggle to
connect, to find meaning in life that goes beyond self-interest and ego. This is the place where that struggle can
find resonance, if not resolution.
·
For others, it is a chance to
slow down the crazy pace of life. The
repetition of melodies and the leisurely pace of the service helps us to do
that. Studies show that meditative
prayer actually slows down the heart rate and reduces
blood pressure. If your goal is to reduce
your stress level, you have come to the right place.
·
For others, it’s a chance to reconnect
with family members, those no longer with us (through Kaddish),
those we’ve come to visit or, for that matter, those we’re not talking to!
·
For those visiting from out of
town (e.g. college students), it’s also a great time to reconnect with roots –
to find our way home.
·
For others, it’s simply the
chance to connect, perhaps for the first time, with a non-judgmental
community. Our service is so
accessible (and our congregants sol welcoming) that it provides a low threshold
for those seeking to find their way in. We break down barriers that separate people,
so that our differences seem trivial by the end of the service. At our Kabbalat Shabbat service, you are
guaranteed at least one “Shabbat Shalom” greeting from someone you don’t know!
·
And for others – including me –
a prime goal is that the experience of praying together opens our hearts to
love, so that each week we become just a little more capable of reaching out. I truly believe that we have become a more loving congregation because of
our services, and that in turn has made me a more caring person. And that in turn, has begun to have an impact
on our community, our world – and on Judaism itself.
People
have noted that at our services, many close their eyes in intense prayer, some
even weep. Know that most of these are people who only recently wouldn’t have
been caught dead at Shabbat services at all, much less weekly. I would venture to guess that most have
serious questions about God and a number are undoubtedly agnostic. But none of that matters if we come here with
a goal to set aside the static of daily life, the issues that always distract
us, the cynicism that infects our souls and the loneliness that chases us into
seclusion.
It
all begins with the music. It’s been
said that chanting is “part science, part ecstasy and part mystery.” Contemporary philosophers speak of “stages
of consciousness” that we ascend through repeated chanting in settings such
as ours. The more we do it, the higher we are able to
leap. Week after week, it gets
better. Our hearts really do become more
open. The words leap off the page and come
alive through our prayer.
Having
a goal facilitates a sense of ownership and investment and it neutralizes the
two dominant themes that interfere with authentic, heartfelt prayer: nostalgia
and obedience. If the only reason we
come to services is that Zayde did it, odds are we won’t come back very often –
and even if we do, our grandchildren won’t.
Nostalgia compels us to ossify what we are romanticizing, to freeze it
in time, to change nothing, even when old forms have otherwise become
meaningless to us. Too many synagogues (and
movements) have succumbed to that. Nostalgia and blind obedience to old ways are
not helpful.
The
beauty of Jewish prayer is that the liturgy changes very little, but everything
else is constantly being reimagined: the melodies, the architecture, the prayer
space, the instrumentation, even the way we dress. We should feel totally unbound in seeking the
best ways to make prayer “work” for us, all the while adapting it to cultural
trends around us. Even Leonard Cohen
tunes can find their way into a contemporary service – but the words remain the
same. Without innovation, we are dooming
a 3,000-year-old tradition to the trash bin of history by rendering it
irrelevant. I don’t think Zayde would
like that too much.
Once
you articulate a goal, the measure of success is not determined by the “performance”
of the service itself. If my goal is that
I emerge from services a more patient person, the measure of success is not
whether the cantor’s voice cracked or the rabbi mixed a metaphor. It’s whether I’m less impatient the next time
I’m standing in a long line at the bank.
Setting personal objectives brings clarity to that nagging question as
to what connection there is between what we are doing in the synagogue and what
we are doing on the outside. Everything
we do in here suddenly becomes astonishingly relevant to our lives out there.
So
your assignment, should you choose to accept it, is to help bring yourself to
the next level – to Prayer 2.0. That
will enrich your life immeasurably, and it will also enrich the lives of your
fellow congregants.
So
ask. By all means, ask what your service can do for you; and in doing
so, you will do a whole lot for your service and your congregation.
“My
Kid Wants a Christmas Tree”
One
of the most discussed statistics from the recent Pew survey was that a
surprisingly high number of Jewish families reported having Christmas trees in
their homes. It actually shouldn’t be so
shocking, considering how prevalent Hanukkah bushes were back a generation ago,
in the 1950s, as Jews strove to assimilate.
There is no easy answer when a child asks for a tree, but even without
Hanukkah to “protect us” this month, as I wrote
a few years ago, the way to counteract a day of XMas saturation is through
a year of living Jewishly.
Shabbat is
a weekly chance to "gather around the tree," albeit a tree of wax,
for a moment of reflection and a warm hug . And the day is bookended by
candles, with the multi-colored multi-wicked havdalah candle
accompanied by sweet smelling spices at the end. Then throw in the Sukkah and
the family festivals of Passover and, most fun of all, Purim, and you've got
more than enough to compensate for the tree.
In
the end, the Christmas tree is a religious object, "pure
and symbol." (Click here to
see a terrific comprehensive listing of the Christian symbols involved – even the
candy cane has religious significance). Anyone who calls the tree a secular matter is
simply, well, barking up the wrong evergreen. Want a secular symbol in your school? Fine. Tell the principal to leave the tree up an
extra month and use it to celebrate Tu B'Shevat!
So what is the best response? I've always felt that kids need a firm grounding
in one faith and, if that faith is to be Judaism, it is best to keep the tree
out of the house. However I see no
problem in helping Christians celebrate their holiday in other houses,
hospitals or homeless shelters, as my family has done at Pacific House for
years. This would be true of Christian
grandparents too.
And then, as much as possible and all year, long, we need to light those Jewish
flames. This is especially true in this era of mixed identities and the
blurring of lines. For kids, the
response is to affirm the values, warmth and joy of our tradition.
Now if it's the adult who wants the tree, that's an entirely different
question.
Looking
Ahead
Our
services will have varying leaders and styles during the next few vacation
weeks. By the time we are all back together in early January, we’ll be ready to
apply all we’ve learned and the spiritual energy we produce here should be
extraordinary indeed.
Check
our upcoming bulletin and other announcements for a plethora of January events. Of special note is a showing of the film “Journey
of the Universe” on Jan. 14, with guest speaker Teresa Eickel of Interreligious
Eco-Justice Network. It is one of the
most inspirational spiritual films I’ve ever seen, and yet it hardly mentions
religion at all. See more information here. Also, we’ve got some great Shabbat
programming coming up, including a new series of Learner’s Services, where a key theme of
contemporary Jewish life will be wedded
to both the portion of the week and a prayer from the liturgy: Shabbat
Conversations: Parsha, Prayer and Purpose.
Also, we’ll continue the series “This
American Jewish Life,” with TBE
congregants sharing perspectives on their life journeys. These testimonies
showcase the extraordinary stories our congregants have to tell. Last
week, Dana Horowitz spoke of how the murder of her father changed her life –
and through her, it has changed us all (read her story here).
Shabbat
Shalom
Rabbi
Joshua Hammerman
