On Melodies in Prayer (Column 540)
A Look at the Nature of Conservative Hashkafic Responses
With God’s help
Disclaimer: This post was translated from Hebrew using AI (ChatGPT 5 Thinking), so there may be inaccuracies or nuances lost. If something seems unclear, please refer to the Hebrew original or contact us for clarification.
A few days ago I saw a column in which Rabbi Shlomo Aviner addresses playing music as part of prayer (Hallel, Kabbalat Shabbat before the onset of Shabbat, and Havdalah with instruments). Although the topic doesn’t strike me as especially important—and perhaps precisely because Rabbi Aviner’s starting point is entirely similar to mine—I thought it appropriate to offer a detailed critique of his remarks. They contain bias and not a few fallacies, and sadly they are typical of the national-Haredi approach to such issues. It puzzles me that an intelligent person like Rabbi Aviner could even dream up such a poor response, but precisely for that reason I think it’s important not to ignore it.
The rabbi’s words
The question he answers is this:
Question: There’s a new trend to perform a musical Hallel with instruments. Likewise, Kabbalat Shabbat before Shabbat. Likewise, Havdalah. Is this permissible/appropriate?
It isn’t clear what “permissible/appropriate” means. Is it halakhically allowed? Is it proper? In what sense? I assume the questioner had some intuition that this is a problematic phenomenon and wanted to check that, but he doesn’t spell it out.
In his answer, Rabbi Aviner brings 13 arguments against it (“very serious problems”), no less:
| Answer: First of all, it isn’t entirely new. There was something similar when the Reform introduced the organ into their synagogues in order to imitate Christians, and the Ḥatam Sofer fought this with all his might (Hashmatot to Ḥoshen Mishpat §162; there VI, p.), as did Shu”t Melamed Leho’il (§16), Mishpetei Uziel (VIII, 18), and Maran Rav Kook (Shu”t Orach Mishpat 36–37; and see the book Piskei Maran, §70).
Granted, in our day this is not the agenda, but it’s clear that the fashion of attaching a musical or other “experience” to prayer is of Christian origin. As for the matter itself, there are several very serious problems. 1. One must not change the order of the service of God. We do not know all the revealed and hidden reasons. 2. Throughout the generations, the great sages of Israel did not institute this, even though of course they too had instruments; we are neither wiser nor more righteous than they. 3. Moreover, the greats knew that in the Temple they did play music, and nonetheless they did not learn from that. Evidently they knew that in this matter the synagogue differs from the Temple. 4. Prayer is not a concert. One should pray with awe of holiness, not out of musical enjoyment—certainly not for the sake of musical enjoyment. 5. Some claim that youth do not “connect” to prayer and are bored to death; through attractions and thrills they will connect. That is a logical fallacy. They declare they want to connect them to prayer, but in fact they connect them to attractions and thrills. On the contrary, this distracts them from concentrating on the prayer itself. 6. Others argue: “It is a time to act for the Lord—they have voided Your Torah.” To this we must reply two things: (a) There is here no acting for the Lord. (b) This authority is given to the great sages of the generations, not to every individual. 7. In the end, heads of mechinot testify that this is the only remedy they found to get students to come to prayer at all. Perhaps; but one must know that the remedy has severe side effects; therefore it is permitted only for the “ill.” 8. As for the proof that under the chuppah people sing and play “If I forget you”—that too is a new invention with no source, and it isn’t clear who invented it. Breaking the glass has an ancient source, but not the music. This too stems from thirst for “experience.” Recently there’s another invention—to sing the piyyut “Titen Acharit Le’Amekha.” 9. The Mishnah Berurah mentions that on Shabbat people were accustomed to melodies—i.e., prayer with tunes (O.C. 281:5). But even in this one must not exaggerate. There was a case of a shaliaḥ tzibbur who embellished too much, to the joy of the public; our teacher Rav Tzvi Yehuda gently told him that one must not “chazzan” too much. There was a case with my humble self: after the prayer the shaliaḥ tzibbur came to wish me “Shabbat Shalom”; I told him, “Sir, you are not a cantor but a prayer leader.” He responded with a tear of emotion at the supreme compliment. 10. A great Torah scholar noted that before Hallel we bless “to read the Hallel,” not “to sing the Hallel.” 11. In one synagogue they were singing the Psalms of Kabbalat Shabbat. A child asked people, one after another, what is the meaning of “Forty years I was provoked with a generation and said: They are a people of erring heart… I swore in My wrath that they shall not enter into My rest.” These are, ostensibly, very difficult verses—how can one sing them? No one knew how to answer him; they told him they hadn’t thought about it. The child concluded that they had never once prayed those verses with intent and were occupied only with singing. 12. There are many synagogues where people pray with great concentration and where they hardly sing. 13. The Gemara states “to hearken to song and to prayer—where there is song, there shall be prayer” (Berakhot 6a), and Rashi explains: “the synagogue where the public recite hymns and praises with a pleasing voice.” But a pleasing voice is not exactly singing, and certainly not instruments. 14. In sum, music does not increase kavanah (intent); it distracts from it. To conclude, from the words of R. J.B. Soloveitchik in a talk on Parashat Korach: “The religious experience is not the main thing; it is secondary. One must never take as the starting point the inner, subjective experience—no matter how redemptive it may be, how colorful, how healing, how powerful an impression it makes on a person’s hardened personality.” “Religious feeling is interchangeable, fickle and fleeting… If the religious act had to adapt itself to a person’s inner moods, we would need to invent a ritual that constantly changes; what is an apt expression today will by tomorrow have become obsolete.” “We are never able to determine what is a religious experience as opposed to a secular, lustful experience. We know many non-religious, hedonistic feelings that are very powerful. They are hypnotic, and at first glance they seem ‘redemptive.’ A person can easily confuse a religious impulse with a drive of love. Replacing religious feelings with secular feelings is again a pagan method. Idolaters in the ancient world would immerse themselves in hypnotic, orgiastic rites and mistakenly identify in them a religious experience. The Torah forbade importing pagan practices into the service of God: ‘How did these nations serve their gods? I shall do likewise’—‘You shall not do so to the Lord your God.’” “The notion that one can arouse religious consciousness by confronting it with the powerful hypnosis of the aesthetic experience—such as music, the plastic arts, architecture—is foreign to halakhic Judaism. For example: take the organ. What is the organ’s role? To set a mood. The organ does not set a religious mood, for it is not an instrument of religious experience but of aesthetic experience. People use the aesthetic experience to pave, as it were, the way to a religious mood. The religious mood will never come, because the path is paved with an aesthetic experience. The same if one dances—the dance may arouse you personally; of course it stimulates, the rhythm itself intoxicates—but all the rhythm in dance is a secular experience. It is not a religious experience; it is an aesthetic experience. Do you expect the aesthetic experience to prepare the way for a religious experience that will follow? That will never happen! This is, in essence, paganism.” “In my view, this is the real reason the organ was not introduced into prayer. Judaism wanted the religious experience to be born in its own world, not stimulated or aroused by a routine, secular, hedonistic experience. All the more so—if we use the experience of love as a stimulant—within Judaism this becomes an abomination; it is paganism par excellence. The religious experience is born within religious cognition, not under the pressure of physiological, sensual drives.” “We have never tried to do this; the Catholics have. The whole ‘mass’—the music, the architecture—everything is tailored to that aim: to arouse in a person an ecstatic experience that, once opened by this stimulus, will carry the worshipper to a religious experience—and that is a complete mistake! The religious experience is autonomous, free and original; it moves to its own rhythm and along its own special path.” |
A clear and utterly unequivocal stance—not only against using instruments, but to some extent even against singing and melodies in prayer. Whose heart would not tremble at the sight of these “very serious problems”?!
And the student’s words: What is prayer?
I’ll begin by stating that I agree with his starting point. In my view, emotion and “experience” are not important in prayer—or generally. The primary intent in prayer is the intent to fulfill one’s obligation, not all that is loaded onto it. I have already cited in this context Maimonides, Laws of Idolatry 3:6, who wrote:
One who serves a star or constellation out of love—for example, he is enamored of this form because its workmanship was exceedingly beautiful—or he serves it out of fear, lest it harm him, as its worshippers imagine that it does good or ill: if he accepted it upon himself as a god, he is liable to stoning; but if he served it in its manner or with one of the four services, out of love or fear, he is exempt. One who hugs an idol and kisses it, sweeps and sprinkles before it, washes it, anoints it, dresses it and shoes it, and all similar acts of honor—transgresses a negative commandment, as it is said, “You shall not serve them”; these are included in the category of service, yet he does not incur lashes for any of them because they are not stated explicitly. But if such an act is its mode of worship and one performed it to serve it, he is liable.
Maimonides rules like Rava that idolatry performed out of love or fear is not “idolatry in its optimal form.” Full and complete idolatry is that which is performed through “accepting it as a god.”
At first blush this is puzzling, for love and fear are considered the deepest religious motivations; if one directs them toward an idol, that should be the most idolatrous idolatry. Indeed, the Ra’avad in his glosses here and other medieval authorities interpret the Talmud differently:
/Ra’avad’s gloss:/ “If he served it in its manner or with one of the four services out of love… he is exempt.” We explain: out of love of a person or fear of a person, not out of love or fear of the idol itself.
The Ra’avad, like most of the early authorities, understood Rava’s exemption to concern someone who serves an idol out of love or fear of a human being (to please another person). But serving out of love or fear of the idol itself is optimal idolatry. That is not the straightforward reading of the Talmud, of course, but the difficulty that led them there is clear.
But Maimonides did not understand it that way. He apparently holds that “acceptance as a god” is the antithesis of service out of love and fear. Religious service motivated by love or fear of the god is in fact service motivated by something—by my own inner agenda. I wish to satisfy some feeling within me, and therefore I serve it. Religious service is service performed out of acceptance of the yoke and obligation, not for any other external purpose—certainly not a purpose rooted in the self. There is, to be sure, a kind of love that is “doing the truth because it is true” (see the beginning of Laws of Repentance ch. 10); that is likely not an emotional love but an intellectual one (what is sometimes called “intellectual love of God”). But that is not the subject here.
We thus learn that the foundation of the service of God—and of religious service generally—is unconditional commitment that does not depend on anything and is not aimed at gaining anything, certainly not an experiential or emotional payoff. What, then, of “the service of the heart—that is prayer”? The same applies there. It is widely assumed, especially among our Hasidic cousins, that the point of prayer is the experience of devekut (cleaving) and closeness to God. But R. Ḥayyim of Volozhin already struck at the core of that notion and explained, in his Nefesh Ha-Ḥayyim, that “experience” is neither the aim of prayer nor of study. Prayer and study are themselves a state of devekut. One who studies Torah or prays cleaves to God regardless of what he feels in that moment. Prayer and study are not means to achieve experiential devekut; they are themselves devekut—a metaphysical, not an emotional, cleaving.
From here we also understand that kavanah (intent) in prayer is not about “experience” or emotion but about the directedness of intellect and will. First and foremost it is the intent to fulfill one’s obligation, as with every commandment. Beyond that there is the intent to the words (as in all speech-commandments), and some added the intent of “standing before God” (R. Ḥayyim on Maimonides’ laws of prayer). At root, prayer, like every commandment, should be done out of commitment and the intent to discharge one’s duty. Prayer is a commandment incumbent upon us like any other, and that should be our basic motivation when we come to pray.
Leibowitz, of course, championed such an approach, though as usual he took it a step too far. He argued that in principle one could just as well recite the phone book; clearly the content of the prayer has no significance. He repeatedly states: one who wants sustenance should go to work (tested and proven), and one who wants healing should go to a doctor (also). But the picture I’ve described does not imply that there is no significance to experience and emotion, nor that the words are meaningless. In my opinion, emotion and experience indeed have no intrinsic value—but that conclusion does not follow from the picture I’ve drawn. Furthermore, it is implausible to me that all the words of the prayer were composed arbitrarily in place of the phone book. One can disagree with the Sages, but one cannot attribute such a view to them.
For my part, I truly see no value in emotion and experience. I also do not believe in ongoing divine intervention; therefore, in my view, medicine and livelihood generally do not come from Him but from the doctor and the employer. But that is my view; it does not flow from what I described about prayer. In principle, a person may claim there is value in experience and emotion, or in the intentions of the Arizal, and he may also request needs from God, and thank and praise Him—but all of these are additional “stories” built atop the foundational story of intending to fulfill one’s obligation (and the words), not in its stead. One who treats a “Lithuanian,” emotionless prayer—one that does not aim to create experiences or to secure livelihood and health—as “a command learned by rote” is making a grave mistake. That is the finest prayer. That should be the basic motivation, even if additional levels can be built upon it.
The chase after “experiences” and thrills
I’ve shared here before a joke I heard attributed to Dov Sadan. He said the next person to make a revolution in the world will likely be a Jewish orthopedist. Why Jewish? Because all the revolutionaries are Jews. But why an orthopedist? Because the first Jew who made a revolution—Abraham our forefather (or Moses our teacher)—taught us “Lift up your eyes on high and see Who created these,” i.e., to use the head. The second (that man) demanded that we give the heart. The third (Marx) taught that everything is in the belly (needs and interests). The fourth (Freud) explained that everything is below the belt. So the fifth will likely be an orthopedist—or perhaps a podiatrist—who will show that all is in the legs or the soles of the feet.
What stands behind this joke is the quest for “experience” and excitement that so characterizes our generation. This is the product of profound despair about the intellect (including, of course, postmodernism) and the search for cheaper, more satisfying substitutes. But this hankering is problematic for two reasons: (a) emotion and experience have no value in and of themselves; (b) when they are used as a substitute for intellect, one gets nonsense. The flinging of slogans about things “beyond reason” and other such visions are the root of the folly and nonsense of our New-Age generation.
Emotion and experience cannot truly replace intellect. Making decisions with emotion and experience is about like thinking with one’s feet or ears. Even if you’ve entirely despaired of reason, at most you should become a skeptic—but you have no option to replace it with other organs or mental faculties, however frustrated you may be at the inability to reach conclusions and form positions. Hence, among other things, comes the frustrating state in which there is an absolute inability to conduct substantive discussion. When people “think from the gut” and offer no arguments, we get positionality ruling over all, and we lose the ability to discuss and debate. So-and-so “feels” this way and someone else that way—that’s it. In the absence of trust in reason and thought, experiences, excitement, or frustration become the supreme measures of the truth or falsehood of ideas and claims.
The starting point
If so, you can understand that my starting point is quite similar to Rabbi Aviner’s. I, too, am not enamored of the chase after experiences, and despite the desolation I feel in prayer I do not think the excitements, experiences, and concerts offered there are an adequate substitute or solution to the problem (if anything, better to read good books; it won’t save the prayer, but at least that has some added value).
And yet—even after saying all this, I do not understand how one can disqualify playing instruments in prayer. Why not disqualify singing in prayer, which is accepted everywhere? What is the principled difference between singing and instruments? He himself notes that the Levites played in the Temple, so it can hardly be “bad.” Naturally, I will not cite here all the sayings about the holy spirit and the indwelling of the Shekhinah that supposedly come from music.
In general, I am prepared to accept Rabbi Aviner’s claim that there isn’t great value in all this, though in my view one can see instrumental value in religious feelings and experiences; they help people adhere to the service of God and to prayer (despite the desolation). A concert is a reasonable substitute for reading books. I greatly enjoy seeing singing in churches in films and always think it’s a thousand times better than the desolation common among us, and it expresses a kind of fear of Heaven that is very impressive and authentic. In any case, I cannot accept Rabbi Aviner’s absolute negation of these dimensions. Such a conclusion does not flow from what I described.
Before entering Rabbi Aviner’s specific arguments, I will preface three general remarks about the framework of the discussion.
Three general remarks
- The title of his column (which, as we know, is not always given by the author) already says that we’re dealing with a phenomenon of Christian origin. This is also the main thrust of his introduction. He agrees that there is no agenda of imitating Christians, but the source is Christian. Seemingly, he implies that this alone suffices to disqualify it, even though he then adds “on-the-merits” problems.
So I’ll start with a question: Why, exactly? There are quite a few Christian phenomena that have spread in the world and also among us, and that does not in itself disqualify them. If there is no halakhic prohibition of ḥukot ha-goy here—which even Rabbi Aviner does not claim—then one should examine such a phenomenon on its merits: is it positive or negative, irrespective of its source. All the precedents he cites dealt with an intent to imitate the gentiles, and he himself says that is not the case here. So what is the problem with a Christian origin? Did not his teacher, Rav Kook, teach again and again that in every phenomenon under the sun there are positive points worth adopting? Upon further reflection, does this not itself indicate that the origin is not a relevant consideration?
For example, in my view Hasidism has very strong Christian sources (both in its theology and in its practice). Does this disqualify it? Not necessarily. I do regard Hasidism as negative in several respects, and still I do not see in it a prohibition nor a desire to imitate Christians; therefore its Christian sources are not an argument to disqualify it. True, when I point to features in Hasidism that are problematic in themselves, there is some value in noting their Christian sources to sharpen the claim that they have no place in a Jewish world—but that alone does not invalidate them or Hasidism as a whole.
Thus, an organ in a synagogue—a sensitive point—has never seemed to me problematic despite its Christian source. Using it on Shabbat is of course another matter, but for some reason there is an automatic sensitivity against using an organ in a synagogue regardless of Shabbat. Perhaps here there is a desire to imitate Christians, and perhaps even room to discuss an actual halakhic prohibition of ḥukot ha-goy; I won’t enter into that here.
- There is a great deal of repetition in his words. On examination you’ll see that the reasons he brings are very few; somehow Rabbi Aviner turns them into thirteen separate items. But there are not thirteen reasons—far fewer.
- Beyond that, all the considerations he brings point in the same direction. There is no discussion of any argument in favor of music in synagogue; it certainly doesn’t get a dedicated item. A picture made of many items, all pointing in one direction, is suspect to me as biased. It’s hard to assume that in such a topic one cannot find any bright spot in the opposing view, especially when it’s clear that many good and great people do see significance—or at least permission—here. I already cited R. Medan’s quip that he knows twenty-two “excuses” for reading Ruth on Shavuot but just one explanation for reading Esther on Purim.
It would be proper to raise the positive sides, omit the repetitions, present each reason separately, and then weigh them against the negative sides, and only then present a bottom line. When this isn’t done, the whole picture looks suspect. By the way, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen this from him. I recall his discussion on conditional marriage, where again he presented a list of reasons to disqualify the phenomenon without a serious discussion of the other side.
But all this only gives reason to treat the framework of the discussion as a priori suspect and problematic. These are not arguments sufficient to dismiss Rabbi Aviner’s position. To crystallize and present a clear position, we must enter the arguments themselves. I beg your pardon for the pedantry, as this column really isn’t worth even one sentence. I address each item only to demonstrate how far conservative bias (and bias in general) can go and what it can do to intelligent people. You can now see the bundle of nonsense laid out above.
Critique of the arguments
- We must not change the order of serving God because of hidden reasons. The Vilna Gaon’s famous statement about decrees and enactments holds that even if their reason lapses we must not change them, for perhaps there are hidden reasons unknown to us. I’ve critiqued this more than once: perhaps there are no hidden reasons (and that is even more plausible; one who claims hidden reasons bears the burden of proof). I’ve also noted that conservatism has a price; it isn’t a risk-free path. Sometimes its costs are higher than the costs of the policy it seeks to block. First, because conservatism deviates from truth; therefore, in principle the burden of proof is on it. True, if the reason lapses an enactment does not automatically lapse; that’s based on the need to stabilize the halakhic system—no need to resort to strange mystical conjectures to explain it.
But in our case we’re not even dealing with an enactment or decree, but with a custom that is not halakhic at all. Moreover, there is here not even a custom but an absence: the fact that we haven’t “customarily flown” during prayer is not a custom; there’s simply no custom to fly. Instituting a new practice is not the same as changing an existing custom. The Gaon’s statement about decrees and enactments seems to me absurd on its face (the enthusiasm for it stems, I think, from its usefulness in fending off proposals for change); but to say that everything people did—or didn’t do—until now, in halakhah or outside it, must not be changed because perhaps there are lofty, hidden reasons at its root—that isn’t even a bad joke. I’m sure even the Gaon never dreamed of such an extension.
- Throughout the generations sages did not institute this, and we are not wiser or more righteous than they. Does this not overlap the previous item? At least partially. And besides—so what? They also prayed with a different nusach, both in content and in melodies; shall we prohibit changing that, too? They also dressed differently. Does Rabbi Aviner propose we continue dressing in Hasidic or Haredi fashion because “that’s what everyone wore once”? Should we stop with crocheted kippot and restore the gartel and kaftan? And those who instituted those garments—how did they change? Were they wiser and more righteous than their fathers/teachers?
- If they didn’t learn from the Temple, that’s conclusive proof that the synagogue differs from it. A bizarre argument. Does everything not taken from the Temple prove difference? Perhaps there was simply no need then. After all, addressing a need is a legitimate consideration even if the practice has no inherent value. Moreover, many things were innovated in synagogues with or without connection to the Temple. What does that prove? And perhaps now we’ll change, and then future generations will see that one can learn from the Temple.
- Prayer isn’t a concert; one should pray with awe of holiness, not for musical enjoyment. He assumes that, according to the innovators, enjoyment is the aim of prayer. But why not see it as a mere aid to the worshipper? Indeed, it isn’t a concert—but the music may still help. Recall that the Rema exempted us from intent in the first blessing of the Amidah, in sharp contrast to the Talmudic law, because he knew that even if we repeated the blessing we would still not have the proper intent—no one truly does. I don’t know what kind of environment Rabbi Aviner lives in, but certainly not mine. Even if I feel similar things about these excitements, many claim that the excitement is their awe of holiness, as in “rejoice with trembling.” Is that not a legitimate claim?
- They argue that “the youth” don’t connect to prayer, but the tunes will connect them to something that isn’t prayer—just experience. Beyond the shining optimism (as if the problem lies only with youth), perhaps there’s something to it—but why not want them to have at least a “floor B” if they lack “floor A”? This argument is, at most, a claim of superfluity—not that it is negative or forbidden. In any case, the “youth” (as we know, up to age 120 it’s youth) are not connected to prayer.
- “A time to act for the Lord.” Fine—this is entrusted only to the great sages of the generation; besides, this is not “for the Lord” but for experience. This argument (beyond the question of authority) is entirely equivalent to its predecessors. And as for authority—are we dealing here with a halakhic change requiring “the greats of the generation”? Don’t many customs begin from the bottom up? Were kiddush with herring and kugel after services instituted by Moses our teacher?
- Heads of mechinot testify this is a remedy for getting students to come to services. Rabbi Aviner replies that the remedy has serious side effects (without detailing them), thus permitted only for the “ill.” Of course this fully overlaps previous items. But here we’ve advanced: if there are indeed “ill,” he agrees they may be treated thus. This pearl is tucked deep between the lines.
- There’s a proof from music under the chuppah. Well, that too is a new invention; one cannot learn from it. It’s a wonder he doesn’t call to abolish music under the chuppah as well. But I don’t understand—why do we need proofs at all (is there some problem demanding proofs)? And even if so, why would a wedding be a proof of anything? By this logic, we should also abolish wedding menus and the plants in halls—they didn’t have those in the days of our forefathers, the mighty of the world. And certainly one cannot learn from wedding halls to synagogues to place plants and decorations there—Heaven forfend.
- A ma’aseh rav from R. Tzvi Yehuda and from Rabbi Aviner himself preferring to shorten the melodies on Shabbat. A very novel reason indeed, in addition to all the above. The respondent brings a ma’aseh rav from himself. Whoever isn’t persuaded—stand up.
- Another “insight” from a great scholar: we bless “to read the Hallel,” not “to sing the Hallel.” A remarkably sharp observation worthy of a great scholar like that anonymous figure (good he didn’t name him to avoid lashon hara). Do we bless “to stand the Hallel” or “to read the Hallel”? Hence, it is improper to stand during Hallel. In fact, Hallel itself is termed “song” in the Sages (and, by their reading, in Scripture). It seems that great scholar still has something to learn.
- A child asked worshippers in his synagogue—where they were accustomed to sing—about the meaning of verses in Kabbalat Shabbat, and they didn’t know. Conclusion: they were busy singing and didn’t understand the verses. An amazing, crushing proof. I suppose if he had asked in another synagogue everyone would know. And even in that synagogue, if they stopped singing, at once everyone would know the meaning of every word of the prayers. And even if they wanted to learn the meanings, the singing would keep them from hearing the lesson. It seems this proof, too, is from some enormous scholar (except in logic).
- There are many synagogues where people pray with great intent and hardly sing. Another amazing proof. How many such synagogues are there? He saved us that. Are there synagogues that sing and intend? That don’t sing and don’t intend? What percentage is each type? What would happen to a synagogue that stopped singing—would intention rise? As is well known, it’s highly inadvisable to diet, because everyone who diets is fat.
- It is written “to hearken to song and to prayer—where there is song, there shall be prayer,” but there it means only a pleasant voice, not singing and certainly not instruments. I’m surprised he didn’t explain that “song” there means Torah study, as is often explained (see here for critiques and explanations). A very strange argument. First, how does he know it refers only to a pleasant voice, not singing or even instruments? At most one can say there is no proof for instruments from there—but how can one exclude them from there? Isn’t it more reasonable to say that people pray in a pleasant voice with singing and instruments? That is certainly no less plausible.
Conclusion
Again, apologies for the utterly unnecessary detail. I’m sure most of you chuckled in embarrassment and did not understand why this column was needed. I wanted you to sense the whole picture, in all its parts, because this is a typical “Torah” treatment. You could see how a Torah scholar—an educated, intelligent person by all accounts, asked by a broad public for halakhic and hashkafic guidance—can write drivel I wouldn’t accept from a three-year-old. All this just to present a skewed, tendentious picture of a completely banal and innocent issue, whose principal flaw is that it’s relatively new; and, as we know, “what’s new is forbidden by the Torah.”
So what did we have here? Where are the “very serious problems” we were promised? We saw repetition of reasons across different items, as if there were many arguments and not simply the same thing in different words—essentially a complete vacuum. We also saw a blatant absence of any discussion of the positive sides of this phenomenon. Add to that some “grandma stories,” odd and fabricated statistics about synagogues which—even if they had some basis in reality—bear no real relation to the discussion, plus a pinch of ma’aseh rav from the respondent himself to support… his own position. Ah yes, and a few more arguments that are embarrassing from a logical standpoint—all of them saying the same thing. From this embarrassing mélange we received a decisive negative answer about something that is undoubtedly legitimate and perhaps even somewhat beneficial. Here you have a fine example of how to manufacture baseless “tradition,” “hashkafah,” and “Da’at Torah” out of nothing—based on absolute vacuum. Who can see fourteen well-constructed items issuing from the mouth of a High Priest and not be convinced?!
If they had asked me, I would have answered straightforwardly that I don’t see great value in it and it isn’t the essence of prayer, and that it is proper to focus mainly on intention in the prayer itself. But if people want to sing and play—let them enjoy—and perhaps there is some benefit there as well. It would be proper to elaborate a bit on the value of experiences, perhaps to distinguish between different kinds of experience (musical experience and religious experience), and to examine the relation between them.
In my assessment, Rabbi Aviner did not intend something very different in his response (I think the quotes from R. Soloveitchik at the end essentially say that). But he wished to present things in a sharp, persuasive way as if based on tradition and profound hashkafic considerations (“a few very serious problems,” remember?)—and thus this calf emerged (albeit a calf set against dancing). This seems to be a paradigm for how “hashkafic” (and sometimes even halakhic) responses to such topics are crafted.
With respect to Rabbi Aviner, he “earned” this mockery fair and square.
Our teacher, Rabbi Aviner, is truly an enigma.
On the one hand, a broad-minded, multi-disciplinary genius, and on the other, narrow-minded like here and more. On the one hand, an admiring student of the bold Manitou, and on the other, subordinate to Rabbi Tao. An enigma..
Not a young student of Manito, I appreciate it.
Yehoshua Benjo is right and knows what he is talking about.
He knows his father-in-law inside and out.
And blessed is the generation that Rabbi Aviner and his son-in-law are humble and accept rebuke.
On the 1st of September, 2017
To my best wishes - a big hello,
And she is the giver. A broad-minded person like Rabbi Tao and Rabbi Aviner, who knows firsthand the currents and nuances of Western and modern culture – is likely to develop a heightened awareness and sensitivity to the problematic effects inherent in ’trends’ that seem seemingly innocent.
With greetings, Yip”r
However, it can be said on the other hand that someone who is unaware of the negative roots of a phenomenon – is also less likely to be adversely affected by those hidden flaws.
And on the other hand, he is also a reader and supporter of (some of) the columns here at Etrah Kadisha Din.
But as I know Rabbi Aviner a little bit, Rabbi Michi did not lose a client, but rather
Rabbi Aviner is not a genius. He is a well-educated rabbi with broad (relatively) horizons, but genius is something else. Rabbi Michi is not a genius either. The Gerida was a genius. Save the titles for those who deserve them.
To certify a genius – you have to be a genius.
And to determine who has broad horizons – you have to have broad horizons.
Congratulations, you won
Excellent column, thank you very much.
The discussion itself is not important, but how you present it, how you structure your rejections, how you teach us the right way of thinking, really helps in all fields and studies.
If we deny experience, isn't there a danger that we will reach a state where there is no need for God. After all, reason can explain everything? Scientific development continues to attack the question of necessity without mercy. And perhaps only experience can provide the answer to the question of necessity. There is no doubt that experience needs reason, but leaving reason alone in the face of the distress of necessity is like playing basketball with tied hands. Perhaps the solution is the balance between reason and experience. A person walks on the path and reason directs him to follow the right path and overcome all obstacles, and all that is left for experience is to enjoy the encounter with the path and with God.
In general, I deny the value of experience, and you talk about it on the instrumental level (instrumental. A means to something else). That's a different discussion, and I also hinted at it (when I said that there might be some benefit in it).
But I really didn't understand your words. What does it mean to need God? And that I worship Him because I need Him? I worship Him because I have to and that this is the truth. What does it have to do with the fact that reason can explain everything? (What else it obviously can't).
In short, this message is written in Chinese as far as I'm concerned.
Note that according to the scholars of the Rash”sh (level 2 in the language of the sage Abraham) this level does not mean a request for divine intervention in our earthly world (in this regard, Leibowitz was close to them), and certainly there is no search for psychic experiences, they come incidentally and one must beware of them. The second level is only for the purpose of higher worlds. Of course, the chooser will choose, and it seems from the style of the Rash”sh that he preferred not everyone to choose.
To be blunt, it really isn't that bad that they sing in prayer, just annoying. Especially if there is no option for a business minyan.
I didn't say that Kabbalists talk about experience. I pointed out several additional types of levels: experiential level, Kabbalistic level (Aryan intentions), etc.
Weren't the Levites ministers in the temple? Were they Christians?
In the 14th of Shevat, 15th century, Joseph said, “
We found things that were excellent and were forbidden because they had an idolatrous connotation, such as the tombstone that was loved in the days of Jacob and was forbidden by the Torah. Even the reading of the Ten Commandments in the Bible was canceled because of the “outrage of the species.” Thus, there is room for a distinction between playing in the Temple and playing in the synagogue, from which Israel avoided for generations. Perhaps because of the aversion to the customs of the church and the Reformed Temple. Perhaps out of fear of desecrating the Sabbath, or perhaps out of fear of frivolity and cheapness of prayer, or perhaps from a combination of all of the above concerns.
In fact, in our country, minyans are not common, and almost none of our young people have ever seen a church or a temple in their lives. Sensitivity to this connotation is limited, and therefore many conservative rabbis also support the musical minyans on the first days of the new moon and on the days of the Feast of Tabernacles, as the music in the recitation of Hallel enlivens and excites the prayer and brings the young people closer to the synagogue.
With greetings, Yanai Elimelech Zwiblinger-Dishonsky
A comprehensive review of the halakhic discussion – in Rabbi Shmuel Ariel's response ‘Playing Musical Instruments in Prayer and Praise’, on the ‘Yeshiva’ website
With kind regards, Dicha”a
To Yossi, Rabbi Aviner referred to this (the Levites) in detail, and so did I.
I didn't understand at all in Rabbi Aviner's words what the connection is between Hillel, Kabbalat Shabbat, and Havdela and prayer (which should be in reverence or whatever). Maybe we should say that it is also forbidden to sing in the shower because prayer should be in reverence? Prayer is nineteen blessings said in a whisper. Reciting Shema is accepting the yoke of the Kingdom of Heaven and from the interpretation it should also be said with profound seriousness. How does this affect how we are supposed to read, well, what we call "hymns"? Perhaps Rabbi Aviner is explaining that it comes from the root zemer2 which means strength, and there is no hero except the one who conquers his instincts.
To Hananel –
King David already taught us: ‘Serve the Lord with joy and glory with trembling’ and Chazal taught: ’Instead of glory –Let there be trembling’. Even in times of joy – there must be a balancing fear.
With greetings, Dicha”a
There is a need for aesthetics in prayer, as the Gemara says in Berakhot (6):
Abba Binyamin says that a person's prayer is not heard except in the synagogue, as it is said (1 Kings 8:28) to hear the sound of the rosary and the prayer, in the place of the rosary there shall be prayer.
And Rashi explains on the website:
In the place of the rosary, in the rosary, where the congregation says the service and praises in the melody of the evening voice.
Friends, you should read before responding.
Since I learned the Gemara in Bezos, I have stopped paying attention to cantors and congregations singing sections of the prayer.
God is a pure need.
And when there is anxiety, then the divine is the strongest need that exists. At least for many of us.
That doesn't make the divine something that exists or that requires anything!
Quite the opposite. People take advantage of this need to stroke their egos by the poor and weak.
Atheism is also a position. Very stupid, but a position. But to say you are an atheist there is no need to go into the psychological diagnoses of others. Just as I will spare you the psychological diagnosis for the sake of the atheist.
I don't have time to get into the endless debate about the value of experiences and emotions. (Hint: I don't agree with a word of your position on the subject of vadal and akhmal). What I'm asking is to stand by your claim that the only value of prayer is in the intention to fulfill an obligation. Obligation of what?
One: The Rishonim are known to have disagreed on whether there is a mitzvah from the Torah to pray. According to the Ramban, yes, and for the Ramban, this is entirely a mitzvah of the rabbis (perhaps except in times of need). Come to your senses, in the period before the Great Knesset (that is, before the revision of the prayer text and the telephone book text), was it possible, according to the Rambam (and the Rambam in times of need), for a person to fulfill the obligation of prayer from the Torah by reciting some obscure text, provided that he intended to fulfill the obligation? What obligation? Was it in the period before the prayer texts, may God have mercy on him, that he did not bring it? I wonder.
Mordechai, it seems you haven't read the column you're responding to again. Rani must say that this is a somewhat wasteful practice.
An equally bad habit is to dodge questions in such a clumsy manner, especially since this time I didn't mean to be sarcastic and my question was completely sincere. You don't owe me anything, but why lower the level of the conversation like that?
I didn't sting you. I scolded you. That's something else entirely. When there are questions, I don't dodge them. There were no questions in your words. You simply put in a footnote the things I wrote to Hadiya against in the column, and then you criticized them. That's why I wrote to you that you probably didn't read my words. And since this isn't the first time, I added the comment about the unprofitable practice.
If you ask a question, I promise you I won't dodge. But read my words before you ask. I assume that if you read, you won't ask, but you are of course welcome.
You can assume that I didn't read, or that I did and didn't understand (much more likely, because I'm really not a great scholar, and yet I want to understand).
You wrote: “The main intention in prayer is the intention to fulfill one's duty, and not everything that is burdened upon it”. After a few paragraphs you added “The intention in prayer is not related to experience or emotion, but to the intention of the mind and will. First and foremost, it is the intention to fulfill one's duty, as in all the commandments. After that, there is also the intention of the words (like all the commandments of speech), etc. Then you quoted Leibowitz’ Zatskollah” (from my immediate impression of him, I think that he often said things about fulfilling one's duty as a provocation, and on another occasion), and you noted that you don't agree that words have no importance (so why did Chazal bother to formulate them). And finally you concluded: “…But all these are additional layers on top of the fundamental layer of intention to fulfill one's duty (and the words), and do not come in its place” and so on.
I took the trouble to quote from your holy words just to prove that my eyes had passed over the text (and I am afraid to write “I read”…). And yet I asked in its place – to fulfill what obligation? What is the commandment of prayer if not “Rahmaana Liva Ai”? That is, to stand in terror, fear, love and awe of the sublime and honorable in front of the Rabsha”a (“Emotional religious experience” Bil”z)? What did a person from Israel have to do in order to “fulfill one's duty” In the commandment of prayer (since it is a commandment from the Torah) before the text was corrected by honest people?
I really didn't understand what the problem was with singing parts of the Psalms and some singer (my uncle) who in recent years has been saying them before the Maariv prayer and accepting the yoke of the Kingdom of Heaven on Shabbat night?
Someone or several people came along a few generations ago and he and his students used to say a few parts of the Psalms before Shabbat in a field.
Sometimes it spread. Sometime they decided instead of doing it in a field (cold, hot, dark, problems with shaking) to gather it in the synagogue. There are places where even later the rabbi says a sermon, a lesson, a weekly parsha, halachic or just political opinions (usually biblical and other vile) under the guise of a sermon.
Is it permissible for a rabbi to sing his ‘sermon’?
He is allowed to say, he is allowed to sing, he is allowed to dance and he is allowed to give up the whole sermon altogether.
It is also ‘permitted’ To come to the synagogue for Maariv prayers and to receive the yoke of the Kingdom of Heaven on Shabbat night without saying the chapters of Tehillim that are said and without singing them, and it is also permissible to say them and sing them.
It is also permissible to read all of Proverbs in Yemenite after the evening prayer, and it is also assumed that it is permissible to sing it, and it is also permissible to go home at the end of Maariv and not say R”L all of Proverbs in Yemenite.
In short, this whole invention of ‘Shabbat reception’ is neither permissible nor forbidden. Whoever wants to says, whoever wants to sings, whoever wants to dances, whoever wants to read pamphlets, and whoever wants to come straight to Maariv and it is not clear why this is even a topic of discussion
I wrote that beyond the intention to fulfill an obligation, there is the intention of the words and standing before God, and if you wish, you can also include the intentions of the Aryans, experiences and emotions. For health. All of these, even if they have value, are additional levels on top of the basic level.
Prayer is like any other mitzvah, and therefore requires the intention to fulfill an obligation. This does not mean that it does not have a purpose of its own. Even taking a lulav has some kind of purpose, but it must be done first in order to fulfill an obligation. What is the connection between the two? And because mitzvot necessarily require intention, do mitzvot not necessarily have their own goals and objectives?
The same is true with regard to prayer. The purpose of prayer in terms of its regulations or God (if it is Torah) is not necessarily related to the question of what the intention of the doer should be. At most, these goals can be thought of on the second level and above.
And now to your questions:
An intention is required to fulfill the obligation of the mitzvah, as with any other mitzvah.
The assumption that it is a religious and emotional experience is not necessary, and in my opinion is also incorrect. But even if it is correct, it is irrelevant to the discussion. Then you will go through a wonderful emotional experience, and you will do this in order to fulfill your obligation. How does this relate to this?
Before the wording of the Great Knesset was revised, one had to pray in a free form, and still with the intention of fulfilling your obligation.
Before the giving of the Torah, there was no obligation or commandment, and therefore there was clearly no need for an intention to fulfill your obligation. What is the question anyway? Before the giving of the Torah, there were no kiddush, only marriages. Does this mean that no kiddush were added afterwards? Before the giving of the Torah, Jacob set aside tithes (say). What is the intention according to the Mitzvah that mitzvot require intention? Nothing, of course. There was no obligation then, and therefore it is clear that there was no need for an intention to fulfill your obligation.
Thank you, and I'm still not sure I understood your point.
(By the way, I intentionally asked only about before the text of the prayer was revised and not about before the giving of the Torah, that's a topic in itself.)
He who eats matzah should aim for the sake of the mitzvah of matzah and not for the sake of his hunger (and of course that would be the case if he happened to be hungry and his mitzvah was fulfilled). He who blows the shofar should aim for the blowing of the shofar and not for singing (and of course that would be the case if he enjoyed musical enjoyment from the blowing along the way). But what should a person aim for when he prays, especially when the text has not yet been revised? “I am mumbling a free text for the sake of the mitzvah of prayer”? For the sake of the ages?
And perhaps the mitzvah of prayer, since the Torah is essentially a verbal expression of accepting the yoke of the Kingdom of Heaven, fear of the exalted and love of God? Therefore, a simple text will not be useful here. And in order for the verbal expression of the above not to be slanderous and slanderous, the person must actually experience these feelings, right? (And perhaps this is the intention of Chazal, "With all your heart, in two demands, etc., etc."). Perhaps Chazal took the trouble to correct the wording after realizing that not every person knows how to properly express these feelings before God. But of course they could not correct "feeling." You must fulfill the commandment "Love the Lord with all your heart." Chazal can only help you express this love in appropriate words before the king, etc., etc.
Sorry for the hassle, but at least to me your position (and Leibowitz's) seems very puzzling.
According to your assumption, every mitzvah that cannot be interpreted in a way that is not for the sake of a mitzvah does not require intention, because in such a situation the intention does not come to the apoki at all. There are indeed such perceptions, such as “stima lishma” demanding sacrifices, but even according to them what does not need to be intended is only because it is generally assumed that this is one’s intention. Therefore, in any case, one must have the intention to fulfill one’s duty even in these cases, explicitly or implicitly. The need to intend is not conditioned on there being another interpretive possibility for fulfilling the mitzvah.
In blowing the shofar, the intention to fulfill one’s duty does not come to the apoki of blowing the shofar specifically to sing, but also of blowing it not because of the commandment but for some other purpose (such as awakening to repentance, as the Maimonides suggests). I argue that if a person blows the shofar in order to awaken to repentance, he has not fulfilled his duty (according to the Mitzvah, mitzvot require intention).
Therefore, a person who prays, before the text is amended or after, must intend to fulfill his duty. This is intended for the era of, for example, prayer for the sake of experience or receiving sustenance. The person praying in order to gain prana did not fulfill his obligation, and is like a person who is singing or repenting. And of course, even if you say that he does not have to actually intend it, it does not matter and so on: because it is assumed that this is his intention. And I require an intention to fulfill his obligation. [By the way, I do not see how correcting the text changes the discussion.]
By the way, on the question of what was new in the giving of the Torah regarding the work of the Lord (prayer and sacrifices), you can see in my article on the rule “the year in which it is written to delay.”
And another note. I explained in previous messages that even if the purpose of prayer is a verbal expression of something, this does not contradict the instruction to do so with the intention to fulfill his obligation, like any mitzvah that has some purpose.
Our Lord
It seems to me that you missed the point in the gerach, and that is what Mordechai is trying to make.
The commandment of taking a lulav requires taking a lulav for the sake of the mitzvah.
The commandment of blowing the shofar requires blowing the shofar for the sake of the mitzvah.
The commandment of prayer requires praying for the sake of the mitzvah.
But the shofar and the lulav are visible objects. You can hold them and hear them.
But what is prayer? There is no object called "prayer." So what is "praying"? In order to say that one must do the action, one must define it.
The gerach defined prayer as "the intention of standing before God and speaking to Him." Whoever mumbles the words and does not intend to stand before God, the problem is not that he did not intend, the problem is that he did nothing. Prayer that does not involve thinking about standing before God is mumbling words, and therefore the gerach says that one cannot fulfill the obligation of prayer. It is like if I were to intend to perform the mitzvah of blowing the shofar but would not have the object called "shofar."
Your words imply that you see the gerach as an additional level, not the base. And to this Mordechai asks: Please define what "praying" is. You answer: Intention to fulfill the obligation of prayer. To this he repeats and asks: If a person intends to fulfill the obligation of the lulav, but you still haven't told me what a lulav is, does it make sense to fulfill the obligation? You repeat and say: What didn't you understand? I said that one should intend to fulfill the obligation. But you haven't yet defined what "prayer" is.
I assume that Mordechai's next step is to say that if prayer is the intention of standing before God and speaking to Him, from here we can begin to discuss the question of whether there is value in speaking in one way or another. That can be debated. But he doesn't manage to get there because you don't answer his question.
Thank you very much. I saw Michi's answer late yesterday and was too tired and unfocused to answer properly. But righteous people (I am a righteous person like me) whose work is done by others; indeed, you are referring to my intention.
I will just add, beyond the words of the Rabbi, that prayer is a verbal expression of the love of God, His fear, and the acceptance of the yoke of His kingdom. (One of the expressions of this is asking for needs, since a person does not ask except from the one in whose hands the ability is, and asking God is therefore implicitly expressed in the belief that we believe that there is no one else besides Him, etc.).
Therefore, when a person prays, he is supposed to feel these feelings that he expresses in words. He who expresses emotion fears but does not fear, he who expresses emotion loves but does not love, and so on. It is not enough for him to fail in his duty (because he did not hold a lulav in his hand), but he is also a liar before God. As it seems to me, it is only about prayer that it is said, "Prayer without intention is like a body without a soul," because the dead are worse than just inanimate things, and are the fathers of impurity.
From this it follows that I completely disagree with Michi's position that emotion has no value. On the contrary, emotion is part of the service of God. A person is commanded to love God, and according to the Maimonides, to also express this love in words ("prayer").
What led Michi to a general error (in my humble opinion) is the confusion between cause and effect. Indeed, whoever uses prayer (or any other mitzvah) to reach emotions and a ”religious experience” is worshipping himself, and this is idolatry.
But prayer is directed in the opposite direction. To take the emotions (to which a person is obligated to bring himself) and express them in words.
Indeed, a person must bring himself to love and awe, and the Rambam even bothers in several places to detail how. By observing nature, with breadcrumbs and nuts for the little ones, colorful clothes for women, and meat and wine for men on a holiday (to reach the joy of a holiday) and so on. Not the religious action to arouse emotions, but to arouse emotions in order to reach the love of God in the sense of “Now bring me a musical instrument” and a body’.
Mordechai and Betzalel's criticism seems to me to be absolutely justified, but there is room for expanding its philosophical side. Michai's focus on religious duty and its relation to religious emotion misses the point - religious truth and the main cognitive channel to reach it, i.e. the intuitive ability.
Michai does acknowledge the centrality of truth and intuition in Halacha, but in my opinion he fails at the application stage. The essence of the intuitive ability is expressed in the responsiveness (receptiveness, passivity) that appears in a person in the face of spiritual expressions of which God stands at the center. Religious duty, to the extent that it relies on reason and will, cannot provide us with that same responsiveness, nor can it even "recreate" it in an appropriate manner. Therefore, an additional force is required in a person, the religious emotion, to do the work. Although this force appears as a result and not as a cause (Mordechai has already insisted on this), it is still a necessary element.
In this respect, the truth is almost completely opposite to what Michi says: not only is religious emotion a threat (although, in Michi's opinion, a threat that does not always materialize) but also a necessary condition for the authenticity of the correct and appropriate religious attitude. To the extent that religious emotion is of spiritual-religious transcendence, it is actually a reconstruction on another and complementary level of the structure and function of intuition. This is a kind of echo of the intuitive ability but also a kind of standard for a person, since it is precisely the “chaoticity” of emotion that represents that transcendent element that reason and will (the instruments that enable religious duty) are unable to convey to us.
There is much more to be said about the question of meaning and perhaps also truth, but it is already too long…
Mordechai and Bezalel, hello. Doron also has a response to your comment in the comments.
Now Oren has somewhat narrowed down the responses (this was done in one letter and I could not answer) and we can continue the discussion.
I do not see any difference between a mitzvah that has a hefza and a mitzvah that has action. In your opinion, the intention to perform belongs to the first type of mitzvah, and the second type does not? Why not? So I think there is no debate about that. The intention to perform an obligation is required in both types of mitzvah, contrary to what Mordechai wrote above.
Now you are trying to clarify that there is another issue: beyond the intention to perform an obligation, there is the intention of the words that turns the act into prayer (and not just the movement of the lips). But I completely agree with this. Where did I write that it was not? Prayer without the intention of the words is just the movement of the lips, but still the fundamental halakhic level is the intention to perform an obligation. It does not really matter which of the two is the main one, this is a question that is not fully defined. The more precise formulation is that what defines it as an act of prayer is the intention of the words, and what makes it a mitzvah (mitzvah of prayer) is the intention to perform.
It is important to understand that in any case this is not a distinction between mitzvahs of action and mitzvahs that have a hefza. The same distinction applies to mitzvahs that have a hefza. For example, a Sukkah is invalid because it was not made for the sake of shade. The “hefza” of a Sukkah (for the sake of shade) is what makes it a Sukkah mitzvah. The intention to perform an obligation turns the act of sitting in it into a mitzvah. Therefore, there is no difference between mitzvahs that have a hefza and mitzvahs of action. These are simply two levels of reference to the mitzvah: the action itself and its being a mitzvah. The action has a purpose and some value that defines it, but what makes it a mitzvah is the intention to perform an obligation. The same is true of prayer. Moving the lips becomes prayer by the intention of the words, but only the intention to fulfill an obligation makes it a mitzvah.
This is what I wrote in my previous answers to Mordechai, and I don’t see what I missed, what was new here beyond what he asked and what was not answered in my previous answers.
All of this is about the intention of the words. Our discussion was not about that, but about the emotion and the experience. I wrote about this that regarding the intentions of the Ari, the experiences and feelings, in contrast to the intention of the words, in my opinion all of these are truly of a higher level, perhaps of value (less instrumental) and not necessary. I understand that Mordechai disagrees with this, but I have not seen a concrete argument against my position.
Beyond that, I have explained more than once on the site and here above that when an emotion expresses a state or perception, it may have value. But the value is not of the emotion but of what it expresses. One must reach a connection with the Creator, and a feeling of love expresses the existence of the connection. The feeling and experience itself is a worthless thing in itself. The value is in the connection. Therefore, if a person lacks this emotional dimension, he is not a rapist, as Mordechai has just written. He fulfills the mitzvah in full, but in his case it has no emotional expression. This is not an exemption from rape, but a full fulfillment of the mitzvah by a person who is built differently. That is all. And thus an answer to Doron's comment.
Indeed, if prayer is a means of emotions and experiences, like a concert, that is problematic, but that was not what the argument between us was about. The argument is about whether the emotion created in prayer has value or not. Is it a flawed or lesser thing when I reach a connection with God without feeling emotions and experiences? In my opinion, absolutely not. I do not see how it is possible to argue about that, since the difference between the two is only a different personality structure. It is highly unlikely that a personality structure is valuable in itself.
In conclusion, it seems to me that I understood the question well before and also answered it completely. And of course I still don't understand what the point of correcting the wording here is.
Do you think there is value in prayer, that is, confession and a request made out of a deep feeling and understanding that thanks God for His grace and a supplication and a request that He continue to help, in other words, a prayer from the heart, or do you not see value in these feelings either?
I see no value in emotions at all, in any context. At most, there is value in what emotions express. Let's say a person is not endowed with emotions at all (something in his brain is structured differently). Is he a less religious person? Are his commandments less valuable? Emotions are, after all, an expression of perception, and the value is not in the emotion but in the perception. I have written about this more than once here on the site and you can search and find it.
(Sorry I'm asking the same question again, just from a different angle, just to make sure I understood)
Even a person with a feeling of mercy, love, and submission, humility, etc., in short, a good personality, don't you see value in that?
Correction: with emotion
It is clear that someone who is emotionally disabled is exempt, because rape is a natural phenomenon.
Mikhi, by and large I think that the concept of religion that you present – perhaps it would be better to say the concept of religiosity – is not of religion but more of a caricature of religion:
1. There is no religion without a law of reckoning for the welfare and good of man. Especially for someone who believes in a personal God and is interested in the world and man. It is simply not reasonable to assume that God created the world and religion and was interested in man serving Him without assuming the existence of a minimal system of rewards, one that is expressed in a sense of religious transcendence (but not only).
2. The meaning of the previous point is that among humans there is no ethics, not even religious ethics, without aesthetics and psychology. There is no such thing as a religious person who does not have a religious feeling, even if it is the most meager and fragmentary. This is not only an empirical factual claim but also a principled value one. To the extent that we deal with man, these are a priori conditions of his existence.
3. There may even be another problem in trying to deny the necessity of religious emotion. I mean the cognitive problem. As I wrote in the previous response, it is likely that religious emotion arises in the face of certain familiarity. Therefore, it seems to me that those who do not see such an emotion as a necessity will have difficulty defending the assumption (as you are trying to do) that we have intuitive power.
I see no value in emotions at all, in any context. At most, there is value in what emotions express. Let's say a person is not endowed with emotions at all (something in his brain is structured differently). Is he a less religious person? Are his commandments less valuable? Emotions are, after all, an expression of perception, and the value is not in the emotion but in the perception. I have written about this more than once here on the site and you can find it.
The Rabbi is exaggerating his own height
Rabbi Aviner did not intend to prohibit this halakhically but “shakpitik ” meaning that it is something that is not right to do even though from a halakhic perspective it is permitted (and even though it has bad consequences in his opinion). Even in the realm of authority, the will of God belongs; only in things that are permitted it varies from place to place and from time to time and from person to person. The whole measure of Hasidism belongs to this. Does not the will of God belong in a war of authority? After all, they would also ask about it in the Orim and Tomi and in the Sanhedrin.
He did not intend to list 13 different reasons but 13 points that can speak about the same reason, only illuminating it from different angles. This is his way of writing in general.
Regarding the Christian source, he certainly meant something that was wrong in a specific way in this matter on his part and that stemmed from something that happened in the Christian perception that was the source of this custom. I am of course talking about the view that actions are of no importance, only hearts, and that all commandments are null and void, and that there is only love. This is a view that encourages an aesthetic experience (in the words of the rabbi) at the expense of serving God.
On the subject of custom, he meant that in his opinion there was a crossroads at least since the days of the Reformers (or from the days of musical churches in the Middle Ages) where perhaps even non-Reformers wanted to bring an organ into the synagogue and the rabbis decided not to, and since then this has been the custom in Orthodox communities. Perhaps he thinks it is a halakhic custom. Like other customs in prayer (such as reciting the verses of Dzimra). There are also differences in customs in the form of Sephardic and Ashkenazi synagogues (the place of the pillar, etc.) and it is possible that they are also obligatory or at least a mitzvah.
Regarding our righteous ancestors and sages, etc., he meant the order of worship, that is, prayer. Fashion does not belong to prayer unless there were customs regarding clothing in prayer and the fact that the cantor still wraps himself in a tallit and not in a modern suit (the tallit (suder) was the suit (and hat) of ancient times and therefore only in it was a tzitzit and a blue thread obligatory (so that we do not forget the ’ because of the nobility of the owner of the suit who is probably an “important person” (at least in his own eyes). Indeed, only married people (and Torah scholars?) during the time of the Gemara would wear a suder). Regarding the kippah, perhaps it could indeed be argued that way (it is not clear whether it belongs to matters of prayer or not or to the study of Hasidism or not, etc.), but indeed the kippah was not particularly important but rather to cover the head in some way (yeshiva students also wore a beret). But musical instruments in the synagogue are something that is a little more than fashion and it is no wonder that they were opposed because of the taste of the rabbi Soloveitchik, just as they opposed all sorts of other Reform amendments of this kind (I assume they wouldn't object if the Reformers decided to put a Star of David on the stage), that is, related to the aesthetic experience. As a prohibition of my view (the will of God in matters of the authority, the Mishnah of the Hasidim), this is a very strong reason.
As the Chabad said with the youth, he did not intend to prohibit with this argument, but to argue that it is unnecessary and will not solve the problem (this is a counterargument against those who would argue that it solves problems, and therefore there is merit in it).
The argument with the chuppah is actually relevant. A halakhic prohibition or not, a chuppah is a “religious ritual” (good thing I didn't say a religious ritual….) Like prayer or havdalah and kiddush. In other words, there are blessings there Etc. Therefore, it is appropriate that there should be halachic customs that are at least a mitzvah. There are no customs regarding mitzvah meals as far as I know (even then they would not be binding because it is a mitzvah and not an obligation, but there would still be a prohibition in this, I thought). Just as there is a custom that women do not drink wine from Havdalah or do not do work when the Hanukkah candle is lit (some women).
The story with reciting and not singing Hallel was not brought up as evidence but as a refinement, as is the custom, as are the various actions of the rabbi. By the way, the difference between a prayer leader and a cantor is well known (and also the implicit criticism of cantorship, because as we agreed, the prayer is not a concert). Years ago, I was asked to pray the High Holy Days prayers in my synagogue, and it was really difficult for me to find someone online for years from whom I could learn the melodies on the Borei (today, blessed be He, there are already some) because I only found puffed-up cantor pieces. Self-importance….
The point about the many synagogues where people pray with intention and not with singing was also not understood. He again intended to address the counter-argument that singing etc. are necessary or more beneficial to intention and against this he argued that this is not true because there are many synagogues (even just one would be enough for logic….) etc.
The same goes for the case of “listening to the Harina etc.”. It is not clear here, but it is possible that he also intended to argue against a counter-argument that would bring him this source from which it is necessary to play in prayer and that it is not necessary because the Arab voice is not even necessarily singing (I did not know what it is. Maybe like the melody of the cantor in the recitation of the Shatz and at the ends of various sections. It is a prayer in tuneࢶ. Like when you address someone in Arab speech to ask you for something. And it also belongs in the service and praise. “Though his voice be gracious, believe him not: for seven abominations are in his heart ” etc.’ )
I will comment on the relevant points.
I did not write that he prohibited it halakhically. See the subtitle of the column.
The repetition is stupid and does not add anything. The numbering of the sections expresses that there are different arguments here, and it does not.
There are also differences in the customs of clothing in prayer, such as a hat. And besides, why is prayer an exception? Our ancestors and rabbis were wiser in everything.
I was referring to the customs of clothing in prayer and I didn't understand what the rabbi wanted with it
I don't know why prayer is an exception, but it makes sense. It has a fairly high status in the world of mitzvot in relation to other mitzvot. In relation to bringing in musical instruments, this is something that the ancients had the option of doing and for some reason didn't do. The question is why. And if it was indeed intentional, then until we understand the reason for this, then maybe it really isn't right to do it. I actually believe that it is possible to understand why, we just need to study and search and demand. Personally, I'm not so quick to say that reality has changed. I believe more that in matters of the spirit, reality changes like a tree (i.e. develops. not just changes). That's why I still wouldn't “allow” women to attend Torah in the male minyan (public respect) and certainly not to remove partitions in the synagogue. In holy places, the rules are different. There is a hierarchy in the holy worlds. And this again is unrelated to the halachic prohibition and permission (which requires more in-depth thought). It is not like questions about what is considered a fence of a sage's house of worship in our time or whether a razor is a type of razor, etc. In any case, in matters of the spirit such as prayer, the fact that the sages possessed the Holy Spirit (not prophecy. This is mentioned in several places in the Gemara that they could resurrect the dead and perform miracles for them) is actually relevant to matters related to prayer. As Rabbi Melam ruled, one must say Selichot precisely after midnight, according to the Kabbalists, and that one must not fall asleep before midnight because the laws are still in effect. And Rabbi Feinstein ruled that it is possible after the first Ashmorah before midnight. And it is clear that in these matters related to asking for forgiveness and prayer, the Kabbalists are more relevant than him. This is not the law of the Lulav.
The changes in customs in prayer were a matter of development - they added sections. The pronunciation changed because people emigrated to different places with different languages and pronunciations and the pronunciation was forgotten. There is also a positive development, for example, in the melodies of the biblical flavors that today in all denominations are clearly developed musically from the melodies of the biblical flavors of the time of Chazal and Moses our Lord, but include them within them (just as a mature tree “contains” the tree that the young one replaced).
To Rabbi Shalita
It seems to me that the Rabbi still believes in prophecy…
There are endless sources in the Bible itself and in Rambam that the prophecy came from singing and playing “and it was as the player who plays”
It seems to me that this is enough for us to understand the importance of emotion in dry prayer.. Apparently there is some connection between emotion and spiritual divine revelation..
Thank you
It is not an emotion. It is joy. Real joy. People do not distinguish between feelings (emotions) and experiences (which are like visions. Feelings. Awareness. Experiences are like visions from the spiritual world)
Just as people do not distinguish between romantic love, which is an emotion, and true love, which is a type of experience (in the sense of sensation). In emotion (if the person acts upon it), the person is acted upon. A leaf carried by the wind. Passive. Emotions are like waves of the sea. But experiences such as awe (not fear), love (not romantic), joy, etc. are experiences that are like seeing (state actions) that result from an active act of observation that results in the experience (sight). Indeed, all the commandments of “love” ” and joy” etc. They command actions that lead to an experience (which is not a state of mind but a type of vision of spiritual reality. It is a state of consciousness) just as a command to see is actually a command to look and observe (to look and concentrate and pay attention). The prophet has a prerequisite of joy and music would bring about joy. There is no emotion here.
Interesting
Rabbi Michai, I don't understand what the Rambam's evidence is that love and fear are not part of the service of God.
1. Surely everyone would agree that casual love and fear without commitment and/or acceptance of the yoke of the Kingdom of Heaven/faith in the Creator of the World is not a mitzvah in a manner parallel to the גז. On the weight of fulfilling a mitzvah without faith, etc.
2. The provision in the Law of the גז (cited in the R. and others) states that there is a special law that in order to pass must be through the Queen, so that even the one who says to me, "You are to me" in the way of acknowledging an existing fact and not through the Queen is not obligated.
3. How can one even rule out the concepts of love and fear as part of the service of God when there are many verses and even explicit mitzvahs on the matter?
I'm sorry. I still don't understand.
I completely agree that there is no fundamental difference between a mitzvah that has a hefza and a mitzvah that does not. You focused on a minor aspect of my comment.
Let's put aside the intention to fulfill an obligation. Let's ignore that for now. Let's agree that in every mitzvah, wherever it is, it is right to intend to fulfill the mitzvah.
The question is different: What is the mitzvah? You simply haven't really defined what it is. Do you believe that the mitzvah is to "say words of prayer"? What are "words of prayer"? To this, Mordechai asked: If the mitzvah is to "say words of prayer," how was the mitzvah fulfilled before the text was corrected? This is not a fundamental question, but a way of indicating that the definition that we currently understand from you is problematic.
This is the fallacy you attribute to Leibowitz. He says that we could have read a phone book, but Hazal did us a favor and gave us a slightly more interesting text. And we, criminals like us, return evil for good and try to find meaning and emotion in the text. Geveld.
The point is that if the entire definition is “to say words of prayer,” Leibowitz is right. The Kabba gave the Hasel the ability to choose from “words of prayer.”
The Gerach gave a better answer. He said that the mitzvah is to be aware of standing before the king and speaking to him. This is not an additional layer, in his view, but the definition of the mitzvah itself. Now we can argue about the correct way to stand before him. But at least he gave a clear definition of the mitzvah.
If I misunderstood what you said, I would be very grateful if you could, in a sentence, say what the definition of the mitzvah is, in your view. The length is only confusing and gives the impression that you do not have a clear definition of the mitzvah.
When the wheels of the cart are greased, one can travel. This is how our ancestors taught us.
And the meaning is when they grease, one can give a bribe, one can advance matters.
And here Chazal revealed to us that without a bribe to Samal, one could not even obtain a day-old egg.
And this is what is written: With all your heart, one must need it.
Therefore: Sing to Him, sing to Him, serve the Lord with joy