The Synagogue as a Venue for Preaching to a Captive Audience: Another Look at Prayer (Column 77)
With God's help
I am tossing another post your way within two days, because during the Sabbath morning service this past Sabbath, while reading Karl Popper's monumental book, The Open Society and Its Enemies (yet another exemplary translation enterprise of the Shalem Center; thanks to them again and again for filling my time in synagogue with delightful intellectual content), thoughts passed through me—not for the first time—about the synagogue in general, and about what is done there in particular. My eyes passed over the assortment of leaflets and pamphlets that fill our synagogues (they are lying on the table because those are permitted reading, unlike books from the Shalem Center), and I was filled with gloomy thoughts about our miserable condition. I wanted to share some of them with you.
The Leaflet Phenomenon
Synagogue leaflets have been an uncontrollable phenomenon for some two decades already. Many righteous people have tried to fight them and have not succeeded. Again and again we are told that this involves the prohibitions concerning mundane documents and weekday speech, and of course an affront to prayer, but to no avail. We are told that this is standing before God with heartfelt petitions over our fate, and we do it while reading advertisements for strictly kosher tours to Indonesia at a special price and in a Torah atmosphere (accompanied by the well-known cantor/lecturer and public figures), or ideological and partisan preaching (which is, of course, all Torah), and the like. We are supplied with urgent information about the crimes of the Supreme Court, the journalists, the secular public, and the Left in general, thus saving us the trouble of wasting time on the newspaper when we get home from synagogue (and then we can finish the entire Talmud at leisure).
I remember that when we lived in Bnei Brak, we were told again and again that Yated Ne’eman is not a newspaper, and the Agudat Yisrael or Degel HaTorah parties are not parties. Those newspapers and parties were Torah institutions and Torah-level commandments, and these sermons were not partisan preaching but engagement in Torah and da'at Torah (authoritative Torah judgment). I now discover that these amusing arguments have penetrated the Religious Zionist market, with twice the force. Here it is done under a much heavier economic and self-interested cloak, and no wonder it succeeds many times over. Marx's words about Capital are a lamp to my feet (which shows that even a stopped clock tells the right time twice a day).
In truth, we sit there during prayer and read newspapers for our enjoyment, whistling at the whole business, and no saint or preacher can do anything about it (perhaps the wise advice would be to publish a pamphlet devoted to preventing the reading of pamphlets, but not to forget to include reports about the court and gossip about what is going on behind the scenes in the other pamphlets). So who said that the joy of reading has vanished from the Jewish people? For me, every day is Book Week. Go to the synagogue, make your way to the old study hall, and you will see there the People of the Book, each man sunk beneath his lamp and reading his pamphlet.
In most cases these are tabloids at kindergarten level, some of them including restaurant reviews and gossip about celebrities seen here or there. Out of sheer panic that someone might see me reading such a tabloid, I do not dare touch them. These pamphlets are published by interested parties (economic or partisan) and are written in a horrifyingly tendentious manner. They do not even bother to hide the agenda or balance the picture presented there. Everything is done openly and crudely, with economic and political interests beside which Israel Hayom and Yediot pale. And all this in a miniature sanctuary where Jews stand in prayer and supplicate in fear and trembling before their Creator, asking over their fate (as if).
"This Tune Cannot Be Stopped": The Reason for the Failure
In one word: boredom and futility. Jews who stand in prayer (or sit reading yellow journalism) for two hours every Sabbath morning, when not one of them understands exactly what he is doing there. Everyone knows that the exilarchs of Babylonia have not been among us for a thousand years already, and even if they were, our requests would have no effect on them or on us. Everyone knows that the prayer service is long and unnecessary, and we are stuck with it for merely formalistic reasons (we have no authority to change it). Everyone knows that nothing depends on this prayer, and at best they mumble it because there is an obligation to do so. At worst they do not even mumble (reading the gossip columns instead).
The preachers explain to us that our prayer is a commandment performed by rote (rote observance), which is entirely true, and not for nothing; and they call on us to examine our crooked path, which is not true, and not for nothing. As a result, most readers occasionally feel pangs of conscience over their blatant skimming, but not enough to change their reading habits. Apparently everyone is addicted to the yellow trash with which they are stuffed every Sabbath. Perhaps it replaces the cigarettes forbidden to them that day. But it is not really addiction. After all, the alternative to those pangs of conscience is a soul-piercing boredom and a screaming sense of futility. So there is no choice but to grit one's teeth and keep reading. "This tune cannot be stopped."
The preachers search for creative solutions, such as Carlebach tunes, cantorial performances, communal singing (My God, my God, why have You forsaken me? — "My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?" — with holy fervor), cultural activity in the synagogue, words of Torah (usually boring), but that too eventually runs out. We are told that infusing prayer with vitality is important, but it seems to me that this is an attempt to breathe life into a corpse.
A Bit of Intellectual Honesty
So perhaps the time has come to stop with the slogans and say out loud what everyone thinks quietly: that none of this has any point. There is no reason to mumble for two hours every Sabbath morning words with no effect and irrelevant content, especially when we are dealing with non-obligatory additions. Granted, we do not have the halakhic authority to change the enactments of the Men of the Great Assembly, for A matter established by a formal count requires another formal count to permit it (a formally enacted matter requires another duly constituted body to permit its repeal), though even here something can be done, but this is not the place. But all the additions that accumulated over the generations—why continue clinging to all of them when their futility is clear to all of us?
When I write here about the irrelevance of prayer and its lack of utility, I am told that I am trampling on the nation's holy things, and that my words are baseless speculation. I am informed that all the great sages of Israel throughout the generations say otherwise, and how dare I disagree with them. I will not enter here once again into those annoying arguments; I ask only that my readers give themselves an accounting of where they themselves stand on these questions. Just once, stand before the mirror and say (to yourselves, not to me) out loud and clearly what you really think about this matter. Are you merely reciting slogans, or do you truly believe them?
I am told that prayer is the pinnacle of the service of God, and that it arouses heavenly mercy and repairs all the higher sefirot. I am told that prayer is standing before the Holy One, blessed be He (Rav Chaim's well-known discussion in Hilkhot Prayer about the two aspects of intention in prayer comes to mind), the focal point of our daily service of God. I am told that the phenomena I described are a commandment performed by rote, and that one must not grant legitimacy to weakness. I completely agree—if I were indeed convinced that this is weakness. The problem is that I suspect it is not weakness but mere inertia. But the inertia is not what leads to the reading of pamphlets; on the contrary: the inertia lies in the clinging to slogans that treat this as something forbidden and prayer as a matter of fateful importance.
I find it hard to accept that everyone truly believes these slogans and thinks that his fate is really determined in prayer, while at the same time continuing to leaf through gossip columns and advertisements for strictly kosher tours to Turkey. Seriously? You want to tell me that you really think something depends on what you are doing, and yet you stand before the King with an advertisement for an organized tour? Ah, perhaps it is the evil inclination of rote habit? No, I do not buy that. My conclusion is that the overwhelming majority of the public, deep down, really thinks exactly as I have described so far, but The heart does not disclose itself to the mouth—the heart does not reveal itself to the mouth. A person is unwilling to say this even to himself, certainly not to others. He prefers to preserve his experience of himself as a sinner in order to preserve the sanctity of our tradition (for fear of Reform, heaven forfend), while at the same time of course not stopping the reading. After all, "this tune cannot be stopped."
Has the time not come for a little honesty? Might it not be worthwhile, after all, to reexamine the slogans on which we were raised? Deep inside we do not really believe them. Weaknesses do not necessarily testify to a worldview, but sometimes they do (as the saying goes: the fact that you are paranoid does not mean they are not after you). The conduct of our society in synagogues is an inadvertent confession of its deepest assumptions. True, this brings us into theological difficulties and toward a somewhat more critical and less sanctifying attitude toward our tradition, and the prices are known and painful. We hear again and again about the price of Reform and about what happens to the descendants of the sinful Reformers. But what happens to the descendants of those who cling to slogans they are tired of accepting? The price of the conservative approach is sometimes no less heavy. Is turning the synagogue into a reading club for gossip and advertisements any better?! Is the alienation many feel toward what goes on in the synagogue, which distances them from prayer and from the ossified tradition it expresses, not price enough?! And beyond all this there is truth. That, too, is a consideration, no? Beyond prices and slippery slopes, beyond calculations of what will happen if we think this way or that, there is also the question of what is true and what is not true. Is prayer really necessary and really effective, or perhaps not? Is it proper to ignore that because of slippery slopes? the term "reading" does not apply (falsehood does not endure). If the foundational ideas are not true, it is hard to sell them to the whole public all the time (only to the whole public some of the time, or to part of the public all the time).
The desolation and the futility peek out even from between Carlebach's stirring melodies. In the end people kick back (and your faithful servant has taken it upon himself to be their mouthpiece), and then the Council of the Sages of Tradition convenes to devise a strategy as to which Carlebach performance will save us at this time. Social activities around the synagogue, communal singing, performances, reading gossip columns and advertisements—but in the final analysis we are left without prayer, only we do not say it and do not admit it. The sanctity of the (hollow) slogan remains intact, and The Jews had light and gladness and joy and honor.
Preaching to a Captive Audience
Beyond the poor material that fills these miserable pamphlets under a veneer of words of Torah, there are countless collateral harms. The average reader who comes every Sabbath to about two hours of sustained boredom is a captive audience. He is prepared to read anything that is printed; anything is preferable to the dreary prayer book he encounters three times a day. And so various interested parties exploit this captive audience. I am not even speaking about commercial advertisements. That is only an economic interest; fine. Our sages already said that the world marches on its stomach. But beyond the economic interests there is undisguised ideological preaching there, which makes cynical and crude use of those two hours of boredom in which we are Like clay in the hands of the potter (like clay in the potter's hand) in its hands. The faithful reader receives every Sabbath one-sided preaching in one direction only. He reads newspapers with no journalistic standard whatsoever, with no pretense to balance, that wash his brain and create a monochromatic public. This material addresses a captive audience and captures it even more. People come away with the clear feeling that we are righteous and right, and all the others are wicked and stupid. You will not read there a complex or balanced argument, something or someone expressing a different position from the political views that stand behind the pamphlet phenomenon. If the regular newspapers operate under the umbrella of ethical rules and journalistic norms, though it is clear that they trample them grossly more than once, here there are no norms at all. Even if they wanted to violate them, they would not know what they were supposed to violate. This is unbridled and inferior journalism, all of it shabby preaching. We are bombarded from every direction with the same low-grade material, and the result is to turn us into a collection of ideological zombies driven by pamphlet systems. The zombies are equipped with a slanted and selective collection of facts and arguments, and no wonder everyone is convinced that he is entirely right. How could one think otherwise when all the facts, and everyone who thinks without bias, think as we do?!
Readers of 'Haaretz' choose that newspaper in the store or subscribe to it of their own accord. They decided to be brainwashed and to become zombies in a certain direction. Good health to them. But the captive audience in the synagogue did not choose this. It is simply trapped there for two hours of terrible boredom and therefore reads indiscriminately whatever is there—that is, whatever it is given. But in this 'store' there is nothing else. Everything is the same. Moreover, if someone were to bring in other material, it would be forbidden reading. Since when is it permitted to bring mundane material into the synagogue?! Preaching for right-wing parties (preferably seasoned with verses, elegant sayings from the great sages of the generations, and insipid Hasidic tales) is Torah, but arguments in other directions are a desecration of the synagogue.
No one would ever think of bringing 'Haaretz' or 'Yediot Aharonot' into the synagogue and reading it there. So why is it acceptable to bring in 'Olam Katan' or 'Eretz Yisrael Shelanu'? There are pamphlets that, in a somewhat more sophisticated way (though not much more), create the impression of balance and honesty. They supposedly expose problems and deal with them courageously. But from my impression (I truly do not read them—not out of righteousness; I am simply embarrassed for myself and for others), this is nothing but eyewash. It seems to me that none of them really does this. Everything is camouflage for one-directional, one-dimensional preaching. One must understand that when one 'deals with problems,' one has already assumed that the phenomenon under discussion is a problem. When teenagers raise difficulties and the pamphlet establishment deals with them 'courageously,' it has already taken a step in the desired direction. By implication it has defined those conceptions as a problem, and now we simply have to cope with our weaknesses.
I cannot imagine any of these pamphlets raising the problem of prayer and dealing with it 'courageously' so that we may overcome our weaknesses (perhaps yes, when it ends with a recommendation for more songs and cultural activity in the synagogue, to make it relevant). One of these pamphlets (I think it is the most popular among them, and one that at times even presents a false show of relative openness and honesty) sent someone a few years ago to interview me. It goes without saying that in the end the interview was not published. Presumably because the editorial staff did not know how to deal with the difficulties I raise while presenting them, implicitly, as difficulties rather than as an alternative proposal threatening the pamphlet's agenda.
What Is Wrong with Books?
I drew the necessary conclusions long ago. For years I have come equipped with a good book (usually from Shalem Press). These are weighty works of scholarship, and there is nothing like a good Sabbath prayer service to plow through them one after another. Such a book fills me with genuine intellectual pleasure and turns my Sabbath into a truly spiritual experience. By now I have finished quite a few hefty volumes that I would have had no chance of handling properly were it not for Sabbath prayer, and I enjoyed almost every one of them. So please, let no one dare shorten the prayer service for me. When else am I to prepare classes for the coming week? When else will I have time to get through all these printed monsters?
I confess, shamefacedly: it took me time. At first it struck me as jarring. I began with reading Shev Shema'tata and Kehillot Yaakov and in general preparing analytical passages during the repetition of the Amidah, and then I moved on to reading them even during the Verses of Praise. In the end I decided that works of scholarship and general philosophy should not be deprived of their share either (between us, if the Guide of the Perplexed belongs in the synagogue, why should Critique of Pure Reason not be there? What did old Kant do wrong by living after Aristotle and not meriting that Maimonides convert him and bring him into the synagogue?!), and even a remarkably interesting volume in English (it was truly hard, but on the Sabbath there is time) that I downloaded from the internet on quantum computation was duly completed (though without the customary Kaddish or the names of Rav Pappa's sons). In the course of this decline I repeatedly wondered whether there is no limit to what may enter the synagogue. What will the younger generation say? Where is my sense of responsibility? After all, the rulings of the halakhic decisors are well known, that it is not proper to study during the repetition of the Amidah (why do we need it at all?) lest others learn from us to treat it lightly.
In the end I have no doubt that works of scholarship are material twice as worthy as the ideological garbage found in the synagogue under every chair. Perhaps in due course I will make my way even to Agatha Christie and Chipopo. In my view, that certainly suits the synagogue no less than 'Eretz Yisrael Shelanu' or the leaflet of the Association for Inculcating National Jewish Values headed by Attorney Shmuel Cohen, from which to this day I cannot get out of my head the marvelous homiletic gem I once read there: And Abraham planted an eshel in Beersheba, fire"to – Arens (Misha), Shamir (Yitzhak) Levi (David). The fact is that something like twenty years have already passed and I still remember it (about this it was said: The Torah that I studied in hardship is what endured for me). If only I remembered equally well the content of Samuel Huntington's enlightening book, The Clash of Civilizations, which I finished (again without Kaddish and without Rav Pappa's sons) only a few months ago, or the collection of Oakeshott's fascinating and refreshing essays on which I made a completion (same story) only two weeks ago (at present, as noted, I am in the middle of Popper's The Open Society)…
A Solution
Beyond the jokes written here with a divided heart (amused and pained at once), I will nevertheless conclude with a few serious words. It seems to me that the time has come to examine the subject of prayer in depth. Not to look for a painkiller for cancer, and not to invent stirring dances, exciting words of Torah, or addictive gossip columns. None of these will save us from the real problem: the boredom and the lack of purpose and relevance. All of this begins with admitting the truth and stopping the self-deception. That would also help us rid ourselves of the feelings of guilt that accompany us outwardly (when in truth it is clear to all of us that there is nothing much to them).
Alongside my words I must add that prayer does have an important value, one I would not belittle. It truly is our opportunity to stop our daily race and stand before God. To thank Him for the world He created, to praise Him for what He has given us, and to acknowledge His greatness and our obligation toward Him. But that does not mean clinging to formulas empty of content. This can be done in a completely different way, perhaps more personally, or at least more variously, and above all much more briefly. The Verses of Praise, the repetition of the Amidah (and also the prayer for the exilarchs of Babylonia), are certainly worth reconsidering. The same applies to the subject of petitions in prayer (if one indeed reaches the conclusion that probably lies deep within all of us, if only we agree to admit it, that petitions do not really help in most cases and prayer does not really have a significant effect on our lives). Prayer has some place in our lives, but it seems to me that it urgently needs refreshing.
Now it is your turn… (icon lowering its head and hiding under the table with its hands on its head)
Discussion
A resounding, thunderous failure of the rabbis. They know! But they are a f r a i d!! to raise their voices.
It’s preferable to cluck, quibble, and discuss whether there is a halakhic doubt about taking a shirt hanging on a hanger out of the closet from among its companions. Concern for the forbidden labor of selecting!
They themselves are disgusted by the long prayer and the tedious passages, most of whose words they do not understand (“to make a lordling”), and as a remedy for their immense boredom they bring with them to the shtender a volume of Mishnah Berurah, or the Shulchan Arukh, or the Mishneh Torah. [The Shabbat bulletin of the “Gindi” company or restaurant reviews by Yahalom are, of course, “not relevant”!]. In my youth I never saw a rebbe or a yeshiva head come to prayer with a book, aside from the siddur and the chumash.
And we have not yet spoken of the disgrace of the “Mi Sheberakh,” which is contrary to halakhah. If I were the addressee of all these degrading requests, and heard how they “pray” and “implore” for the sick person’s well-being (who in most cases is hospitalized because of an “acute” stomach upset or “threatening” pneumonia), my anger would burn against those who dishonor My name and My honor. See the entry “Nachem.”
Shame and disgrace. “What need have I of all your sacrifices?”
Rabbi Michi, could you elaborate on your position regarding the value of prayer, beyond what you wrote at the end? Or point readers to written material on the subject. Thank you.
If you want people to read the article, publish it as a Shabbat pamphlet
Could you please post a link to the article on quantum computing?
I noticed that reading pamphlets exists mainly during the Torah reading (which, as is well known, has a defined and clear purpose that certainly has not lapsed in our day). During the rest of the service, whoever does not want to get tired during Pesukei DeZimra simply arrives fashionably late and lands straight at “Nishmat,” at the main part of the prayer. The distinction is important, because it shows that although the phenomenon does indeed stem from boredom, the boredom does not necessarily lie in the prayer itself, but in the inactivity during the Torah reading.
It may be, however, that the reality I see stems from the fact that I pray in a North African rite synagogue (Algerians, to be precise—they won’t forgive me for that generalization anytime soon). There, any melody that is changed, a word out of place, or failure to repeat the refrain in “Lekha Dodi” will draw boos from the congregation and thrown objects. I don’t think the people there (including myself) think that Lekha Dodi has enormous significance for what happens in the world, or even any small significance at all, but it is still very important to them. The need to connect to the past and to tradition in the religious context exists and also helps with everyday struggles—a kind of escapism.
Second, I can’t understand why you dismiss the slippery-slope argument so quickly. If we abolish Pesukei DeZimra, for example, don’t you think that very quickly they’ll come to abolish the main prayer as well (or even all of it)? The average person, in my humble opinion, will think that if Pesukei DeZimra is not so important, then why do we need any of this at all, and apparently prayer is not meaningful at all (and that is not so—even if one thinks it does not affect what happens in the world, it certainly affects what happens within us, as the rabbi noted). Many ordinary people hardly distinguish between Pesukei DeZimra and the Amidah, and the difference in meaning and function of each part.
P.S. People are not a captive audience. They can always bring thick Shalem Press books to synagogue, as the rabbi does, or even Harry Potter if they want. The pamphlets catch on because they say the things that people who are usually in an average Religious Zionist synagogue want to hear. Anyone who doesn’t want to read the garbage printed on colored pages simply doesn’t have to, and who knows—maybe in the end they’ll even pray.
I agree. But…
First, as a Haredi (and you, having been there, surely know this), the pamphlet disease is still far from malignant. Most worshippers in Haredi synagogues are focused on prayer (not even on reading “Kehillot Yaakov”… if only…). Maybe because they’re embarrassed, maybe because they don’t have “interesting” pamphlets like you do… and all the same.
Second, I believe (and it’s clear to me that you do too) that there is great value in a “religious experience” (even though you claim you don’t know it, allow me to doubt that…) and prayer is the opportunity to devote time to it. Therefore I agree with you that the time has come to rethink how we maximize that time for religious experience.
Do you have any proposal for a “new prayer” ??
Your illusion is sweet, but it has not gone beyond the category of illusion.
Would that I had as many cups of strong black/Turkish coffee! and as many nuts as are poured, gulped, and cracked in the mouths of members of the Eastern communities in the courtyards of their synagogues.
Let us admit it: we need to shorten, s i g n i f i c a n t l y, the verbiage recited like the chirping of a starling.
The long, tedious repetitions of every little thing (based on gematrias, secrets, Kabbalah, and the like) are nothing but accessories of one who incites and leads astray from prayer.
Who needs acrostics?
Who is interested in initials that add up to the poet’s name?
Who needs “for the sake of unification” before everything?
Only Helfgot and company.
What is the point of the prefatory requests before a prayer of request?
And why a loud declaration of intentions?
What is the point of so many Kaddishes, most of them orphaned/widowed/lonely?
What is the point of annoying repetitions by the prayer leader that nobody wants (except Helfgot—also Mutzan)?
The Great Eagle already tried to stop this disgrace and did not succeed, so who are you and who am I that we should entertain in our poor minds such an abominable thought?
Try Heschel/Levinas/Sacks and the like. They too are good in times of distress. Zakovitch isn’t bad either. Ari Elon is very interesting. And there are others!
Of course, all this is under the assumption of Rabbi Michael’s view regarding providence,
which is not very common among those with Torah authority—
and therefore it seems, with all due respect, that this is mainly letting off steam.
Someone who does not believe in prayer, and someone who does not want to pray,
this change is not what will help.
Several comments above have already proposed the Eastern model,
and there are also other synagogue models where people do in fact pray.
(and Heaven forbid—even in a frightfully long fashion).
In my humble opinion, people adapt their prayer to the form of connection they have throughout life with the Creator of the world.
(so I’m not surprised to hear what you read during prayer :))
Since that is so, I think that if you succeed in instilling your worldview, the prayer will also change.
On a personal note—I’m glad there are those who pray long, even when it doesn’t suit me.
And if it suits the majority, let them continue that way. I have enough Daf Yomi backlog to make up.
And every now and then even I manage to pray more.
Take it easy, Rabbi Michi. At least now we’ve had the privilege of seeing which synagogues you choose to pray in every Shabbat. Is it any wonder you don’t believe in anything? Who would want to take part in such an external and meager act? So what now, all your sycophants will get up and shriek: “All synagogues are like this!” Well, no, they’re not. There are definitely synagogues of Torah-oriented Religious Zionists, Hardalim, Haredim, and Hasidim where prayer does not receive this “honor” of a host of Shabbat pamphlets, and certainly not the boredom and contempt you describe. There definitely are places where people who seek God make an effort in prayer, struggle with the difficulties of prayer, and at moments even merit some measure of satisfaction. The synagogues you describe are very familiar. They can be repellent, cold, and alienating; the prayer there is always muttered in abyssal silence, and there is a fear among the Torah-oriented religious person to raise his voice—even during Selichot or lamentations—because they’ll look at him as a “crazy spiritual man.” You truly do not understand what the whole game is for when you’re there. Everything you said about prayer could fit a lightweight public that does not set fixed times for Torah study—check how many of the worshippers there learn for more than an hour a day? But that’s not the point. Here it is, take it: ). But even in that you fail by seeing only yourself through your analytical glasses. Here are his holy words: “It is hard for me to accept that everyone truly and sincerely believes these slogans and really thinks their fate is determined in prayer, and together with that they continue to browse the gossip columns and advertisements for mehadrin trips to Turkey. Are you serious? You want to tell me that you really think something depends on what you do, and nevertheless you stand before the King with an ad for an organized tour?” And of course, a quantum leap to the conclusion that ‘we are all Michi,’ how could it be otherwise: “My conclusion is that almost the entire public, inwardly, really thinks exactly as I have described up to this point, except that the heart does not reveal itself to the mouth. A person is not prepared to say this even to himself.” Now think for once about another option. Thought? Now think again. Maybe people are not that stupid. It may be that they are believers, children of believers, in the power of prayer. It’s not that “the heart does not reveal itself to the mouth,” but that they do not connect all two hours of the ceremony to their prayer of request. They do not tie it to their personal request, and rightly so. The Torah reading, Pesukei DeZimra, and many other texts which, as you say, were added over the generations, do not even pretend to constitute prayer of request. These, if anything, require a very creative and active ability to align the worshipper’s feelings with the text in question—passages of song—to sing; passages of sorrow—to be sorrowful; passages of praise—to praise; and so on (as Rabbeinu Avraham ben HaRambam already noted, whose father, as is known, abolished the repetition of the prayer leader, as you wish). This is hard, and what is hard becomes boring when there is no desire. Just like physical exercise. It is hard, and hard to persevere in. But what does all this have to do with belief in prayer? The believer prays the Shemoneh Esrei and with a word or two can have intention: “Purify our hearts to serve You in truth,” and on weekdays, “Heal us, O Lord, and we shall be healed,” or at the end, “May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable before You, O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer.” Or with a small, focused personal request. Does God need more than that? And what was wrong with Moses’ prayer: “Please God, please heal her,” or David’s, “Please, O Lord, save now.” In short: the very lightweight worshipper whom you dare compare to yourself may be bored throughout the whole ceremony—and it is a shame that this is so—but nevertheless he will direct his heart in what seems right to him. Your conclusion is only a jarring expression of your non-rational ways of thinking when you—God knows why—sometimes choose to be dragged after them with such enjoyment.
(P.S. Another argument regarding the boring sections: look, not everyone, like you, manages to lose weight—see your recent YouTube videos—so what does that mean? That all of us, deep down, don’t really believe in the power of dieting and the need to be thin?? Maybe it means it’s simply too hard. Maybe there is room to compare the unceasing attempts people make to lose weight unsuccessfully, alongside the fact that no one draws your conclusion—let’s admit it, we don’t believe in dieting or that we’ll succeed, “eat and drink, for tomorrow we die”… What is the difference? Why didn’t you draw that conclusion about yourself?)
Forgive me for apologizing for the bluntness. I am writing in your language. It may sound like dishonoring a Torah scholar, but I see no difference between this and the language in which you dishonor holy things. And why am I apologizing for the apology? Because I love you very much, and read everything you spew in your graphomania, and I see no problem at all corresponding with you in your style. There are ways accepted in the tradition for how one says things; you ask to violate them time after time—please, at least permit your students to adopt your style. And if I have erred, let my error rest on me.
Here is another attempt at discussing the phenomenon of Shabbat pamphlets, by Rabbi Elchanan Nir https://musaf-shabbat.com/2012/08/24/%D7%9E%D7%95%D7%AA-%D7%94%D7%AA%D7%A4%D7%99%D7%9C%D7%94-%D7%90%D7%9C%D7%97%D7%A0%D7%9F-%D7%A0%D7%99%D7%A8/
A. I wonder what the purpose of the publication is. That is, I understand the act of writing, which springs from the aching, pained heart of the poet (please update the spell-checker to the new spelling rules), who can express himself only in a burst of mournful-yet-amusing writing that will bring him some measure of relief and comfort. The first (and last) idea that occurred to me was that the wounded poet thinks that publishing his reflections might help spur the people to fix what is distorted. But here I truly wonder—is open contempt for others and their beliefs going to lead them to listen to you? Wouldn’t the chance of change be greater if you began דווקא with the end, with the importance of prayer, and even elaborated on it (you do seem to know how to elaborate), and only afterward criticized the current situation without causing antagonism? True, many of the readers here are not alarmed, but they are already of a certain type—if you want to address the majority, and not those who are anyway placed on the border of heresy, this may not be the way.
B. There are two questions here that are not entirely related—A. the effect of prayer; B. its current format. Even if prayer has an effect, that does not mean its current format is successful, and in any case it could be cut down substantially, whether by removing texts or by shortening drawn-out parts. Bundling the first issue, which is a philosophical question in which your position is a minority view, into the question that is central to the column does not help advance the topic.
C. If behavior during prayer proves lack of belief in its effect, then it also proves lack of belief in the need to keep halakhah. Would you want to prove from here that all of us (not including me, of course; I am a righteous pillar of the world and believe everything our rabbis taught us) do not believe in Torah from Heaven?
By the way, I recommend Jerusalem and Athens, even though it’s from the Bialik Institute and not Shalem. It was even written by a Jew, so there is room to permit it in a pressing situation.
Brother, first of all, calm down! True, his style is cynical, but he did not name names and degrade anyone specific; rather, he addressed a spirit and behaviors, and there is a big difference between that and what you are doing. You, by contrast, are degrading a Torah scholar. So yes, Rabbi Michi uses cynicism and disparagement, and you too are doing likewise on that level, but he knows how to stop himself from degrading actual people (in most cases, from what I remember).
As for your actual argument, it really could be that Rabbi Michi “jumped to conclusions” (for it is clear that this is his impression and not a comprehensive survey he conducted), and indeed most people praying in synagogues today do not share his worldview, but let’s be real—I think his impression hits the truth (even if not one hundred percent); my brother too, who lives in Haredi society, told me the same thing even before he knew what the rabbi’s view on the matter was, and from the little I myself have seen (really, just a little), I got the same impression.
In addition, I myself agree with 90 percent of what he wrote here, so here is one more person to add to the tally.
I have a simpler explanation for the P.S. (by the way, it’s customary to put them at the end)—not all of us have undergone bariatric surgery.
P.S.—when the venom isn’t witty, it’s not worth much.
There are several problems here, and it seems to me that you are mixing together problems that can and should be solved with problems that perhaps should be solved but for which we currently have no ability. The pamphlets can be distributed after the prayer, and that is what they do in the synagogues where I pray. As for the great bulk of the prayer text, there is not much to be done, since in most cases we have no authority to change it (at least that is what most rabbis believe). I must say that there are also quite a few advantages to the prayer text that were absent from your remarks. Beyond that, it seems to me that an average religious person believes that God listens to his prayer. God will not necessarily change something drastic in the world because of it (perhaps only in rare cases), but the mere knowledge that someone is listening to you—and not just someone, but the Master of the Universe—can certainly cause a person to have more intention. It seems to me that reading a secular book in the middle of prayer is a kind of declaration that says, “I am here entirely against my will, I really have nothing to seek here, and as far as I’m concerned the synagogue is like waiting in line at the bank and having to pass the time.” That is not the message I would want to convey to my children.
I also want to say that the cynical style in which your words were written does not add to their acceptance among the public or to the chances that they will change anything. Halakhah changes very slowly, if at all, and articles like this do not contribute to that. If you had taken one superfluous section of the prayer (Yekum Purkan is an excellent example), and specifically attacked reciting it while showing that halakhically it can easily be dispensed with—you would have achieved more, in my opinion.
On Shabbat I try to arrive late, at “Barkhu” (on the way I say Barukh She’amar, Ashrei, Yishtabach), and then I pray the blessings of the Shema, the Shema, and the Shemoneh Esrei, and then during the repetition of the prayer leader and between aliyot I also read a book (personally I highly recommend Rabbi Samet’s studies on the weekly portion, interesting and deep, though true, nothing beats Shalem books :ף).
On weekdays, many times I pray alone because I prefer to study. Or when I pray with a minyan, I read digital books (with the Kindle app).
But it is true that the issue of prayer requires a serious discussion, as you noted.
More power to you for the honesty, as usual!
In light of what has been said here—and the points are piercing and important—I wonder what Rabbi Michi thinks about Heschel’s “Prayer,” which came out in Hebrew translation by Dror Bondi about a year ago. He illuminates issues that were not discussed here at all, and are far from trivial, concerning the importance of prayer.
More power to you, Rabbi Michi. Right into the soft underbelly of the “religious.”
Maybe you could write an article (or a series of articles) about your views regarding the Israeli-Palestinian conflict?
By the way, it’s possible I was the first to start this genre—I used to read the “Tekhelet” pamphlet (interestingly, also from the Shalem Center) in my synagogue in Netanya.
With all due respect…
But really, one has to pity you…
The lack of emotional maturity expressed here is enormous…
First of all, don’t project your experiences onto the public, and by now you should know that you’re different…
I don’t know what you’re doing in a synagogue at all; you ought to pray in the National Library to Kant’s God.
But the main part, which is criticism of you and of the thoughts you wrote, is that you need to start learning things besides barren mathematics; one can connect to prayer in many ways if one believes in prayer…
Fine, if you were a robot like Leibowitz, you’d do what needs to be done, including sitting in a tedious synagogue without complaining,
but we already know you, that you know how to get excited and enthusiastic and connect to all sorts of subjects and matters, so the fact that you are so cold in matters of spirituality shows choice and not reality.
In short, what you are doing in Jewish existence is beyond me.
I too agree with every word, and I too come to prayer with a good book (a Torah one, of course), and usually for “Barkhu.”
Nice. I wonder whether this solution would suit our Ashkenazi cousins.
I don’t have much to say beyond what I wrote at the end.
🙂 🙂
It’s a book, not an article (based on a course, but it also came out as a hardcover book). I no longer remember the fellow’s name. It’s a guy with a sense of humor from MIT (Jewish, of course), very well known in this field. He has astonishingly broad education, and wrote a fascinating book (I didn’t understand all of it completely, but it was very interesting). I especially enjoyed what he writes about free will, which was really parallel to what I wrote in The Sciences of Freedom.
Go and see that even this garbage doesn’t make people pray.
The problem is that if we do not abolish Pesukei DeZimra, the results are already here. If we do abolish it, maybe they will come and maybe not. A doubt does not remove a certainty. In my opinion, if we abolish what can be abolished and leave what cannot be—then the attitude will actually become more serious. Right now there is contempt because everyone knows things are left in place only because of inertia, and contempt is created. Besides, I explained that truth is also a consideration, not only slippery slopes.
Indeed, I was speaking about more modern synagogues. And still, I doubt how much religious experience this tedium really provides people.
I have various proposals, but this is not the place. They need to be developed, and perhaps other people here will suggest ideas.
I too am glad there are people who pray long; that way I manage to finish the books. Just don’t shorten my quality time…
I did not understand the rabbi’s reply to my first argument. People read pamphlets mainly during the Torah reading (which has importance), and in addition, among the Eastern communities the situation is completely different.
Indeed, I bundled several issues together, and each person can formulate his own view regarding each one of them.
I’m also not addressing the majority, because in my estimation there is no point talking to them. At least I hope to form a certain group as a beginning.
To my shame, I haven’t read it. Maybe in coming Shabbats.
Nice. At least I aroused pity in a Jew’s heart. Is that a small thing in your eyes?!
That is exactly the point. Once something is trampled, it is trampled. The moment prayer is tedious and leads to reading pamphlets, this spills over into the Torah reading as well. By the way, I’m not sure the Torah reading is more beneficial or interesting. But that is, of course, a matter of taste. Personally, I have little interest in hearing again and again a text I already know by heart. Let them give an interesting lesson on the weekly portion instead (or better, on the Minchat Chinukh on the weekly portion).
Kudos for the honesty and courage 🙂
Even if we ignore for a moment the pamphlet phenomenon (which is hardly found in Haredi synagogues, for example)—for several good years now I’ve been walking around with the feeling that the synagogue functions more as a social institution than a religious one, which gives me legitimacy not to show up there too often…
I can speak only for myself, of course—but I know other people who recoil from the social interactions forced on them in synagogue, with people who are not always their cup of tea (I think Leibowitz had some saying about how he couldn’t study with those he prays with and vice versa, something along those lines…)
On the rare occasions when I do get there, the feeling really is of an empty ritual, devoid of all meaning (at least in my eyes…)
And still—maybe the ordinance/custom/great value of prayer in synagogue was instituted in order to preserve religious/community interests that “glue” the community together and prevent its disintegration? Maybe from the perspective of years, synagogue prayer makes a significant contribution to preserving tradition?
I’m still doubtful and perplexed about the matter…
There is no doubt that the synagogue has social importance, but it seems to me that a better solution can be found for that. It is a shame to pay for it with the price of cheapening the value of prayer as it currently is.
There is absolutely no connection between what people think and what they do.
I believe with complete faith that tefillin are a biblical commandment, and nevertheless I hardly ever put them on. Why? God knows. A real sin.
Whether prayer is important or not is irrelevant to the question of whether people pray it.
Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein was not known for jokes and wordplay, but he quoted someone whose name I do not remember (forgive the one who took the trouble to quote him, and I forgot) who said that when the Reform Jews abolished Yekum Purkan, he said of them, “And may all existence be blotted out…”
Rabbi Haim Iram gave a sermon about standing for the Ten Commandments and quoted Rav Kook as saying that perhaps one can already stop worrying about the resentment of the heretics (well, 2000 years have passed…), so perhaps the time has also come to stop worrying about the resentment of the Reform.
And in a serious vein, the Reform make us afraid too much.
In any case, the Reform also began with rabbis who thought they were changing the right things, and in the end cast observance of the commandments behind their backs—do you think your path does not lead there?
Unlike other articles, here this is an opinion piece, not a philosophical argument.
If your intention is to mock Judaism, then yes, you’ve chosen the right path. But if you wanted to offer constructive criticism, this is not how one does it.
I think the problem is serious. I’m doubtful that it is connected only to the structure of the prayer, though in my opinion too, parts of it could be dispensed with. As others have already written, among Sephardim it is less common, and also in quite a few Ashkenazi synagogues.
A significant component in my understanding of prayer is that indeed, not every prayer is supposed to be a deep encounter with the Creator of the world. There is also the component of prayer as more like “the daily offerings in their order.”
Even the Great Eagle did not abolish the Aramaic translation of the Torah, which the Ashkenazim did without hesitation.
I enjoyed reading—thank you!
A question:
As far as I recall, there are quite a few early sources from which it appears that a very essential part of prayer is making requests. What is the basis for your view that one can forgo this part of prayer? Just as I put on tefillin and do not expect to receive reward for it, so too I state my desires and wishes and do not expect to receive anything in return for that.
More power to you. Entertaining, interesting, brave, and precise. One must also think about what this does to the younger generation, which is forced to be bored for hours amid constant feelings of guilt. Presumably it makes them controllable (every cult leader knows that instilling feelings of guilt in followers is highly useful for controlling them).
Even in the Sephardic synagogue where I pray, the reality is completely different from your description.
Perhaps we have found the reason that providence (or statistics) assigned you to study…
You’ve left me speechless.
I don’t know whether it’s the book, the banality, the conclusion….
Such deep despair about prayer—not only your prayer, but the prayer of so many people for whom you are speaking here
I can point to periods in my short life (which will soon reach 30 years) when I had amazing prayer, even in Pesukei DeZimra. And other periods, like today, when I hardly have intention for any word. But it never crossed my mind that the solution to my prayer problems was… to change the prayer….
I did not write that one can, but that one should. It may be impossible, but in my humble opinion the requests are not really effective, and people do not truly believe in them. To say them only from the lips outward is not really of value (because the intention of the words is missing). As for putting on tefillin, your comparison is mistaken. In prayer, it is not a matter of reward for having prayed properly; rather, this is the very purpose of the requests in prayer (that they be answered). Without an estimate that I am going to be answered, or at least that there is a chance of it, the requests in prayer are like the chirping of a starling. And that is unlike tefillin, whose observance does not depend on receiving reward.
Indeed, “the daily offerings in their order” is perfectly fine. But even that can be done better. Reciting a phone book (as Leibowitz held) is not recommended even for the matter of the daily offerings in their order.
By the way, in my opinion there is no mockery here, but entirely substantive criticism (partly written with cynicism). See on the homepage the link about my mode of writing here. Beyond that, most of the criticism is not about prayer but about our attitude toward it and our actions in the synagogue, and the lack of honesty in us in these matters.
Indeed there is such a concern, and I wrote this explicitly in my remarks. But there are similar concerns even if we do nothing. Therefore we are not exempt from thinking about the issue.
Regarding the mistaken comparison between tefillin and prayer, see below in my reply to Chaim.
My solution is simple—I devote at most an hour and a half on Shabbat to prayer from end to end. That is my limit of endurance. Either I arrive at Yishtabach, or I leave after the Torah reading.
I would like to share a satanic mishap that befell me. For a year now I have been making it through the prayer by studying Shadal on the Torah portions. True, his approach is too historical for my taste and avoids expressing a moral stance, but as Nicole Raidman says: “I’m having fun.” Air-conditioning, padded seats, and even a bissel herring on a cracker afterward. In any case, this Shabbat too I came to fulfill my obligation and drew from the sheath my sword in order to fight the boredom of prayer, and behold, it turned out that I had swapped the volume for the portion of “Bemidbar” with the volume for “Vayikra,” which I finished not long ago. Out of the great distress I felt, I opened with a sincere prayer to Heaven.
Well then,
I understand the dilemma, but I am not suffering, sorry to disappoint you.
And regarding Sephardic prayer versus Ashkenazic prayer: Ashkenazic prayer is the prayer of individuals, whereas Sephardic prayer is communal prayer. From this it follows that the former is a harder challenge for the individual worshipper. He does not come and join a current of singers, but rather has to stand alone opposite the prayer.
What amazes me is that modern people, brought up on modern individualism, seek refuge דווקא in the warm embrace of the public when it comes to prayer.
Why stop at the synagogue? I think the same thing about Independence Day ceremonies—who needs all these silly orchestras, schmaltz-dripping flag parades, infantile dances by the best of our sons on the ceremonial plaza making kitschy shapes. And why stop there—what about ceremonies everywhere? Costumes, choreography, archaic text passages, tedious speeches.
Rather, the more dignified the occasion, the more detailed and binding the rules of ceremony. If you show respect, you are part of the ceremony; if you disdain it, disdain it outside.
Yes, I say “Ashrei” three times a day in a strange acrostic out of respect for God, as the generations of the people of Israel have laid down. And I am proud of it.
Yasher koach.
To all those attacking our rabbi.
I am not one of our rabbi’s admirers; I am even an avrekh in a well-known Kav yeshiva for many years. I read our rabbi’s words for the simple reason that they provoke me to thought—call it rethinking, call it repentance.
After this introduction—friends—the ball is in your court. Aside from being shocked, none of you has raised a serious argument. By way of contrast, a Christian too is shocked when he hears insults against the holy things of his nation, etc.—but like him, that is where it ends with you. There is no logical and serious grounding for this shock. You said our rabbi’s God is Kant’s God—explain and prove why that is negative. Be serious.
And to conclude—“For once, stand in front of the mirror and say (to yourselves, not to me) out loud and clearly what you really think about this matter. Are you reciting slogans, or do you really believe them?”
Precisely. I would say the same thing about Independence Day ceremonies. But for some reason there are many people for whom that does something. Besides, in my view prayer is not supposed to be a ceremony but something with substantive meaning. Long live the small difference. If you want me to respect prayer like Independence Day ceremonies—that is indeed what I do today. Except that it seems to me a bit bland and tasteless, especially since in prayer we have Independence Day three times a day, every day. A bit excessive, no?
Thank you. That is indeed the response I wanted to see.
A reply to Michi’s reply—
Again, if the honor of God is, in your eyes, comparable to the honor of the state, you can make do with participating in one ceremony a year, like many secular people.
If you identify a more important station, both yours as honor guard and God’s as a supreme station—the ceremony will be more frequent. Take, for example, the Buckingham Guard as a parable.
Of course, on its highest level prayer should be service of the heart, with flashes and emotion and truly standing before the King, etc.
But even if you haven’t reached that—still the lower level of prayer as a sacred national-historical ceremony remains in force, and in my opinion one should not disdain it, not by reading pamphlets, nor by conversation, nor by reading high-quality philosophy.
Thank you for the opportunity to respond. It would be nice if it were possible to reply directly to your responses.
I do not understand how your reading books during the repetition of the prayer leader, or during prayer in general, accords with halakhah? (which you yourself mention)
As for the matter itself, the whole article you wrote stems from your postmodern outlook (even though you hate that term and think it is empty of content), and your desire to break through the boundaries of normal Judaism.
Your entire subjective conception regarding the intention of prayer or its purpose as you presented them is solely the product of your own mind, and therefore you have no problem abolishing them.
Your analytical conception is built entirely on subjective understanding, despite your attempt to show that this is not the case.
To my delight, Judaism also emphasizes another aspect of emotional service that finds expression in prayer. In the Lithuanian world from which you came, prayer is a branch of Torah study and therefore it must be connected to the intellect.
In other places where there is education for prayer, emotion occupies a more important place, and therefore the questions you asked would not arise there at all.
As you wrote, let’s be honest with ourselves—
even if they shorten the prayer text—you will still take a book with you to synagogue and still not have intention in prayer,
and most importantly—you’ll find something else to complain about.
Scott Aaronson.
He has lots of excellent articles; go to his website. Married to an Israeli, if I’m not mistaken.
The book is called Quantum Computing Since Democritus
And I, the insignificant one, warmly recommend it.
Prayer has to be turned into an experiential thing. If the rabbis allowed us to smoke cigarettes and drink alcohol, prayer would look completely different. In general, there is ancient testimony about drinking alcohol during the Amidah in the 12th century in northern France.
But the rabbis? No! Everything is forbidden. Then afterward it is no surprise that Jews get up and marry gentile women!
Niram
The Hasidim did that, and quite successfully. The problem with all the writers here is that they’re mizrachnikes.
Well, that really isn’t worth a response. Read my remarks again.
You can respond to my words if you go to the beginning of the thread and click “reply” there. Your response appears at the end of the thread.
Hello. First of all, one who gets angry is as if he worships idols. A pity.
Now to the substance of your words (was there anything written there with substance? In my poverty I did not merit to notice such a thing, and apparently that depends on me alone).
The question is what “halakhah” you are talking about. If everything written in a book is halakhah, then indeed you are right. But to the best of my understanding there is no prohibition against reading during the repetition of the prayer leader, and go out and see what the people do. I doubt how far the repetition of the prayer leader itself is halakhah.
As for the purposes of prayer, I do not know where in my words you saw any thesis on the subject (certainly you did not see there any identification between Torah and prayer. That is plain ignorance, and I hope and believe you do not suspect me of such an outstanding virtue. Though regarding the Shema one could discuss this, but this is not the place). I assume it has a general purpose of standing before God (as Rabbi Chaim—the analytical Lithuanian—said), and in its content it is divided into praise, thanksgiving, and request (sub-purposes). Within this there is also the Shema and its blessings, etc., which have purposes of their own. Experiences and the like are not known to me as purposes of prayer (though one can certainly think of that as a possible Hasidic solution to the problem of tedium, if it worked).
But even if emotion is indeed the purpose of prayer, I do not think that experiences and feelings are really created in most worshippers. Therefore the question I raised (which you did not address) is whether the time has not come to reexamine prayer and see whether it achieves its goals (define them however you define them). Can one continue all the time to explain to us that the problem is only in us, and that this is exactly what needs to be done, instead of confronting the problems and not projecting them onto people? According to your like-minded friends, this is an attempt in which at least a large portion of us (in my estimate most of us) fails again and again, but you are unwilling to see that there is a problem here. I remind you that I explained in my remarks, at their very heart, that one must distinguish between the obligatory parts (and no, not everything written in some book is halakhah) and the additions, about which there is room for discussion.
And finally, how can I ignore your prophetic statements about what will happen with me if they shorten the prayer—whether I will take a book or complain (in the shadow of the Almighty). Apparently that too is because of my accursed analytical Lithuanian nature; I simply do not know what will happen then (apparently Lithuanians lack divine inspiration).
One thing is clear: there is no substantive answer in your words to the arguments I raised (as is the way of hotheads, who shift the discussion to anger and offense and personal remarks instead of dealing substantively), and in fact it is evident that you did not even understand them (or perhaps did not bother to read them at all. Though maybe even if you do read them you’ll find something else to complain about…:) ).
Indeed. The book is based on the lecture series, and there is a good summary of them online. That is what I read.
One can distribute pamphlets after prayer, but that is not what I was talking about. The question is what the pamphlet phenomenon says about prayer itself.
An average religious person who believes that God listens to his prayer does not read, while doing so, about discounted trips to Turkey and exchange jokes with his friends.
Unfortunately, I really am here against my will. And indeed I would not want to pass that message on to my children. That is precisely why I am writing these things.
It seems to me that taking Yekum Purkan and discussing it would miss the whole point. My claim concerns the overall picture, not some particular detail within it.
Honorable rabbi, greetings,
At the outset I want to say that I am not a religious man. (Not well versed in all the mysteries and abbreviations being said here.) But one can say that I am what is commonly called “traditional.”
Seeking, reading, and rummaging through writings, lectures, workshops, and making my way through the mazes of Judaism, for indeed its streams are many.
The hand of chance (or the hand of God 🙂 ) led me to your articles, your lessons, your books. They are certainly a delight to the thinking palate, words of taste and wisdom read eagerly, and they definitely have the power to challenge places where perhaps their vitality has faded and it is fitting to shake off the dust of habit and ignorance from them….
This nonconformism is blessed in my eyes, and for that, bravo.
I have nothing left but to bless your honor with “more power to you.” May your hands not weaken.
At the same time, whether you want it or not, whether it is connected to your title as “rabbi” or not, your standing carries obligations.
Your high stature is bound not only to expectation of content and depth (and here there is indeed a full correlation), but to expectation regarding the manner in which things are conveyed, if you will, the wrapping in which you choose to present your messages.
For many, you are a role model. An object of admiration. A listening ear and an answer to substantial and weighty questions. (I think this is also how you defined the purpose of the website.)
There are times (especially in the recent comments) when your response to commenters descends to the level of “just because” and there you have “a double portion of anger”…
You “fall” into the trap that you yourself knowingly dug in advance. You should not fall into it. It detracts.
If I understand correctly, this is the essence of the whole Torah—that we behave with respect and patience toward the other. That we master our inclinations.
And who better than you knows that it is not for nothing that God is exacting דווקא with the truly great….
With all due respect, (I truly do hold you in great respect) for these words of rebuke, but for your sake and for the sake of the goal that you labor every day to achieve, recognize the fact that you are the “adult” here. Preserve this character of yours; leave the unnecessary seasoning for bland meals in a restaurant 🙂, restrain somewhat the outbursts of defiance that erupt from within you, and your words will merit to echo far.
The force of your incisive words, as forceful as they may be, is dulled if they are over-seasoned with cynicism, disparagement, and disrespect.
For me personally (and I speak only for myself!) this stings. Something very significant gets missed for me.
After all, the tradition, customs, sages, halakhah—their honor has stood in its place for countless generations; they are part of our identity, even if there is an urgent need for revision or reshaping of them.
This is my own impression. I hope you will have the wisdom to set this challenge before yourself, just as you are gifted at setting challenges before others.
Forgive me, sir, if there was any offense to your honor in this.
With the blessing, go up and succeed,
Continue in your wonderful work.
It seems to me that a large part of the symptoms of indifference stem from the frequency of prayer and the fixedness of its text. That is, even for people who wholeheartedly believe in the effectiveness of prayer and in its importance, once a person does something, however important it may be, with such high frequency—three times a day—he develops indifference toward it. Even if I met with all the world leaders three times a day, after 100 meetings I would already be pretty indifferent to those meetings. And not only that: prayer is fixed to a rigid text that repeats itself almost without change. Fine, if prayer were a conversation in which a person could pour out his heart before God, but here we are dealing with prayer in which a person has to say a certain set of words without deviating from the text. Under such conditions it is no wonder that it is difficult to have intention in prayer.
Hello wise Michi, may he live and be well, our master and teacher (too bad blessings for life are so short; I was missing some drawn-out “our master and teacher”)
Today I recall my sins.
In the world in which I live, prayer is actually something valuable and beautiful; the world of pamphlets has barely penetrated it (except for the fiery Torah insights of the Klausenberger, of blessed memory).
In the worst case, you’ll see diligent learners / those ‘behind in the Daf Yomi’ trying to steal another page of Gemara between one aliyah and the next, or (a few) during the repetition of the prayer leader.
Chatter—who ever heard of such a thing?
Around me I see people connected to prayer and standing ready: “Prepare to meet your God, O Israel.”
In the past I was part of that holy congregation,
And my main grievance was against the cantors who rushed and caused me to answer Barkhu between “them that smote Egypt” and “their firstborn.”
But as the years went by and what happened to me happened,
My faith in the principles on which I was raised was shaken; prayer became tasteless in my mouth, and a wearying ritual.
And today I join your congregation.
I have found prayer time to be the most convenient time to complete my learning quotas. (I haven’t yet reached explanations of prayer according to Kant, but I merit spiritual delight from studying the laws of interest, and a corrective experience from the chapter “Eizehu Neshekh.”)
So your words enter a divided heart.
In any case, more power to you for raising the burning issues honestly and courageously.
Regarding your claim that experience is not an end in itself, how would you explain the matter of intention of the heart mentioned in halakhah regarding the first blessing of the Amidah, and likewise the definition of standing before the King, which Rabbi Chaim and the Chazon Ish speak of. Are these purely intellectual halakhic definitions, or is there here a demand for some emotional experience that you do not manage to find and therefore claim that many people are like you?
As for the way you inferred things—I do not understand how you inferred from the reality you saw, of many worshippers reading pamphlets during prayer, that they are truly bored, and from that your demand to reexamine the subject of prayer, and you demanded honesty from us, when the solution you proposed is a reexamination of the subject of prayer and you even suggested shortening parts of the prayer that in your opinion do not serve the goals of prayer.
To the same extent one could infer that there is a problem with that praying public or with the perspective with which they come to synagogue.
And more than that, how can one learn such things from such phenomena? Did you check in other places what prayer looks like there? Are there places where prayer does not look like a municipal library (Karl Popper)?
Perhaps there are places where prayer is experienced as something living and vibrant that does not require a good book or Rabbi Carlebach’s songs.
Perhaps the problem really is proper education concerning the place of prayer in our lives, or perhaps there is some entirely different reason here. In any case you did not explain how you inferred your demand for a renewed examination of prayer.
As you yourself write in many places, there is here a logical failure that is not sufficiently clear.
Regarding the issue of experience, which you say does not work, there are places where the issue of emotional experience in prayer was emphasized, and there, as I wrote, these questions do not arise. I do not understand how you wrote to me in response,
“though one can certainly think of that as a possible Hasidic solution to the problem of tedium, if it worked”
Again, how did you infer that it does not work? In how many Hasidic places have you prayed in your life?
In my opinion, the problem of prayer begins with explanation and education toward sincere and meaningful prayer—that is where the problem begins.
People do not understand why they come to pray; they are occupied with deep questions about changing the divine will through prayer and the like, without dealing with the main thing.
Even you admit that prayer is intended for standing before God; perhaps the path by which you tried to reach that goal needs renewal and refreshing. In Chabad, for example, the issue of prayer was raised to the level of a banner, and likewise in Breslov.
Try something else—perhaps you’ll be surprised.
Michi, in another tedious article you wrote, “I support a clear and sharp discussion, in which each person says exactly what he thinks, and does not shrink from considerations of offense, impudence, and the like,”
plus other such standards for proper discussion. You do not live up to any of them, despite having formulated them beautifully.
Read my reply again and you will see that it was substantive. The display of disdain testifies either to poor reading comprehension or to arrogance. In any case, you came out small and lost me.
All the best
Hello Erez. Thank you for your words. I don’t see where my words were written as you described them here. Could you point me to it more specifically?
I completely agree.
Hello.
Now there are claims and arguments in your words to the point, and they certainly require discussion and examination, and I will try to answer partly.
1. Intention of the heart is a halakhic instruction, and halakhah certainly does not require emotion. In the straightforward sense, it is a matter of intending to fulfill one’s obligation (as with all commandments), and perhaps also the other intentions of Rabbi Chaim (the meaning of the words and standing before God. That is very plausible, even if that is not necessarily the meaning of the Rambam there). The halakhic authorities discussed this at length, and there is no reason in the world to assume that this means an experience. At most, one can add experience as another layer, but not instead of the first layers. Therefore the discussion about the meaning and state of prayer should focus first and foremost on the first layers.
By the way, the fact that the main intention, and the invalidation if lacking it, is only in the first blessing itself also says a great deal. Is this not itself consideration for the state of the public? Did the Rema not write that nowadays we do not have intention even in the first blessing? Did I invent this? הרי the Rema writes as practical halakhah that if one did not have intention, he should not repeat it, because it is presumed that even now he will not have intention. That is, he sees this as the ordinary and established situation. And if the blaze fell in glorious Krakow, what shall lowly hyssops such as I say?
And in Berakhot 30b we find:
“But did Rabbi Eliezer not say: A person should always assess himself; if he can direct his heart, let him pray, and if not, let him not pray.”
And these words were brought as halakhah in Rambam, Laws of Prayer 4:15:
“What is intention of the heart? Any prayer that is not with intention is not prayer; and if one prayed without intention, he returns and prays with intention. If he finds his mind confused and his heart troubled, it is forbidden for him to pray until his mind settles. Therefore, one who comes from a journey and is weary or distressed is forbidden to pray until his mind settles. The sages said: he should wait three days until he rests and his mind cools, and afterward he should pray.”
And in Hagahot Maimoniyot there he brought the well-known words from Tosafot:
“Tosafot wrote that in all these matters we are not careful nowadays, because in any case we do not have such intention in prayer.”
And see Shulchan Arukh 98:2 and Rema at the end of 101 (from the Tur).
That is, the issue of intention in prayer was discussed, and the sages do indeed allow themselves to reexamine prayer in light of achievements and the ability to have intention. True, Tosafot innovated that one should not change despite the fact that we do not have intention, but it seems to me that from the essential law in the Gemara and Rambam this does not follow (he should wait 3 days and not pray).
2. As I wrote, it is customary to attribute this to shortcomings of the public, and still, when a deficiency spreads through a large public, that is a reason to examine the matter itself as well. The Rema and Tosafot and the Tur and other authorities also examined the situation in their time and drew a very bold halakhic conclusion (and as is known, the Mishnah Berurah in Bi’ur Halakhah was very alarmed by this conclusion; see also Chayei Adam, who disagreed with him). To the best of my understanding, this is a problem in prayer itself and not only in people. As I wrote, I certainly do not support the view that whenever people fail there is no substance to the obligation involved, and one certainly must place the demand on the people. But to the same extent, I support the view that this is not always the case. That is the right approach only when the obligation is indeed free of problems and it is the public that does not live up to it. But when there are problems in the obligation itself, one must address those difficulties and draw conclusions from them. Especially since my remarks were directed at the nonessential additions and not at the enactments of the Men of the Great Assembly and the like.
3. Indeed, I did not conduct a comprehensive survey, and I assume neither did you. We both form impressions of the situation, and I assume we will agree that there are places like this and like that. I would add that in my personal opinion, even in places where they do not read the pamphlets, that is because of fear of Heaven and a desire to behave respectfully in prayer. The question is whether prayer indeed achieves its purposes even in those places—that is a great doubt in my eyes. I am not at all sure that prayer in its present form is relevant even in places without pamphlets. But out of tradition, people treat it with respect, and they do well to do so.
4. Just a note about changing the divine will in prayer. In my opinion, this is not a marginal question. Precisely from your approach that this is dialogue—dialogue requires two sides.
5. I would be glad to receive advice for improvement and experimentation. But the way of our world is that such suggestions are ad hoc. That is, one assumes this is right, and now plants all kinds of intentions and interpretive suggestions in order to salvage the situation. The question is whether this is the proper thing to do, or whether one can also examine change on its own merits.
By the way, I have prayed in very many Hasidic places. In fact, my mother’s entire family are Hasidim. True, Breslov and Chabad would be difficult proposals for me, since I do not identify with their overall outlook. But certainly one can and should learn from everyone.
David, I also support the idea that when I write something, you should read it and then respond to what I wrote, and not simply repeat the same thing again. That is a necessary condition for a discussion between people. If no new argument is raised beyond what has already been discussed, then there is no point in adding more. That is why I wrote that your words were not worth a response. Not because of impudence and the like, which, as noted, does not bother me. But because of the absence of new arguments.
But since I see I was not understood, I will explain again.
I already explained to you earlier that you would not conduct the Independence Day ceremony three times a day every day, and certainly would not want to be the soldier marching there (at most a yawning spectator). So what is the point of continuing to insist on this flawed analogy that has no substance? And if you think—contrary to what I answered you—that it does have substance, that is entirely legitimate. But then you need to explain why. Simply repeating the same thing again is not helpful.
I already answered you that I do not desire ceremonies that must be respected. Prayer is not a ceremony that I am supposed to honor, but service of God in which I am supposed to take part. And when you turned it into a ceremony and expected me to honor it, you turned it into the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. If that is what saves prayer in your eyes, then we have a very deep disagreement. I have no interest whatsoever in a national historical ceremony, even if for some reason it seems sacred to you. Moreover, your proposed solution is itself the very problem I pointed to in my remarks (that it has become a ceremony that one honors).
And by the way, in my opinion prayer does not have to involve emotional flashes. For those who have them—good health to them; and for those who do not—that too is perfectly fine. First and foremost, it needs to say something to the worshipper and not simply wear him out. So that he can stand before the King. That is all. See my latest reply to Stern below.
I will conclude again by saying that I wrote all this already in my remarks above, and your response added nothing in relation to your previous remarks and my answer to them. Apparently I was not understood, but because of that, and only because of that, I wrote that it was not worth a response. There was no desire in my words to show disdain, nor was I offended by impudence or the like.
I think Erez means that he expects a certain degree of “stately dignity” from you that he would not expect from an ordinary person. It reminds me of a story about a certain rabbi who forgot to count one day of the Omer, and so the next day he had to count without a blessing. The problem was that he usually counts aloud in his synagogue at the end of the prayer, and he didn’t like the idea that his community would discover that he forgot to count one day. So he consulted his rabbi about what to do, and the latter told him specifically to count without a blessing, so that his community would see that the rabbi is also a human being, and that he too sometimes forgets, and that the rabbi is not perfect. There may even be some benefit in this, because when a person is so perfect, people tend to accept his words without criticism or reflection, only because of who he is. But when the one conveying the message is a person like you and me, there is more attempt to challenge his messages and think about them critically. That way the ideas are absorbed better by the listener, and even if one day the listener discovers that his rabbi is not as perfect as he thought, he will still know how to appreciate his Torah on its own merits, and not only because of the one who conveyed it.
Oren, thank you. So now I even have justification to slip up from time to time (in the sense of Pharaoh rising early to the Nile). 🙂
It is worth informing those shocked by the very thought of the need to shorten the prayer that:
Maimonides (Guide of the Perplexed 1:59) speaks very harshly against the piyyutim because of the multiplication of divine attributes: “there is in them stupidity and corruption of the imagination,” and he calls the paytanim: “truly simpletons.”
Ibn Ezra (Ecclesiastes 5:1) “slaughters” the piyyutim, the paytanim, and especially Kalir,
R. Judah al-Harizi in his book Tahkemoni mocks the paytanim and piyyut.
And there were many others.
That is—there have already been such things in the past.
It is not the mouse that stole, but the hole that stole. You can slander the distributors of the pamphlets as despisers of prayer from now till tomorrow, but you cannot deny that they are invited in by the phenomenon of the captive audience. Therefore, instead of dealing with the symptom, one must deal with the phenomenon itself.
The Haredim themselves are not convincing in light of the sad phenomenon of children whose whole lives were interested only in cards and marbles and suddenly, after they were dressed in a suit and hat, began to pray all of a sudden with contortions and at length. Sometimes I wonder whether they ever stopped thinking about cards and marbles. As for Sephardic prayer, the style is different, but the commenters have already written that those who crack seeds and drink (and on festivals also smoke) outside during the prayer prove that the boredom is great there too.
There is also a certain confusion as though self-mortification and bothersomeness were signs of service of God. Usually those who pay the price are the women and children, who are forced to wait for hours until the father returns from synagogue and makes Kiddush. In my opinion, if my service of God comes at someone else’s expense, including the children and wife, then I probably have not served my Creator.
Torah reading is in the category of testimony, not of study. The Holy One, blessed be He, speaks to me through the Torah He wrote, and I listen. And part of the testimony is reading it publicly in its entirety. Since I understood that, the word of God is revealed to me there. I leave one of the two “mikra” readings to read together with the Torah reader, and if I feel myself nodding off, I simply stand up. And still thoughts of shortening arise in me. The portion of Bemidbar could have been reduced to two simple tables (there are also a few tractates like that in the Talmud). The portion of Korach is perceived as preserving the social order of priestly gifts, and so on. And how could one do without quoting Monty Python’s exemplary bit about the Holy Hand Grenade:
Although there is something to this, I must note that the phenomenon of growing up is complex. It is entirely possible that a child occupied with marbles matures, and the expectations placed on him are part of what creates that (it does not always come naturally from within).
With God’s help, 3 Tammuz 5777
To Y.D. – greetings,
You pointed to the problem of the length of the complex of Shacharit, Musaf, and the Torah reading between them, and likewise to the problem of not integrating children and women into the prayer. In my humble opinion there is one solution to both problems together.
What would help both problems is a half-hour “fathers and sons study session” that would interrupt between Shacharit and the Torah reading and Musaf. At that stage, children who do not get up early can already arrive. Experiential study of fathers and sons (and in parallel, mothers and daughters and their small children) would give the worshippers renewed strength for another hour of Torah reading and Musaf.
For small children who cannot remain quiet and pray, it is customary in some synagogues to organize a short, song-filled children’s service led by a kindergarten teacher or counselor, thereby connecting them to prayer while at the same time freeing their mothers to pray with the congregation.
Older children and teenagers can serve in rotation as prayer leaders for Pesukei DeZimra, as gabbaim during the Torah reading, and even be called up to the Torah as maftir (in Yemen, children would read the Targum and even be called up to the Torah for the sixth aliyah). The more the child participates in the course of the prayer, the more he connects to it.
Best regards, S.Z. Levinger
I once saw the idea of a study session before the Torah reading in a study hall of Gur Hasidim. They would also serve refreshments during the session, relying on the halakhic authorities who hold that the obligation of Kiddush begins only after Musaf. For the stringent, who hold that the obligation of Kiddush begins after Shacharit, one can make Kiddush before the “fathers and sons” session.
With God’s help, 3 Tammuz 5777
And beyond creating comfortable “field conditions” for concentrating in prayer—in the end, prayer is “service of the heart,” the encounter of the individual and the community, those who “grant permission to one another,” and turn to their Maker.
This insight begins to be built already at the moment of entering the synagogue, in which the one entering internalizes several insights:
“ ‘How goodly are your tents, O Jacob, your dwellings, O Israel’ — here I connect with the congregation of Israel, with David in his song, with Moses in the sections of the Shema, and with the Men of the Great Assembly in the blessings and the order of the Amidah that they instituted; with the great hopes of prophets and sages, and with the small hopes of my fellow members of the minyan.
“‘But I, through Your abundant kindness, enter Your house; I bow toward Your holy sanctuary in awe of You. O Lord, I love the habitation of Your house and the place where Your glory dwells’ — before I open my mouth in thanks or request, I feel the privilege of being a guest in God’s house.
“ ‘And I will bow and kneel; I will bless before the Lord my Maker’ — I thank God for having made me and prepared for me an ordered world, and for His miracles that are with us every day.
*‘But as for me, may my prayer to You, O Lord, be at a favorable time; O God, in the abundance of Your kindness, answer me with the truth of Your salvation’ — after I have connected to the whole of Israel, after I have delighted in the closeness of my God and thanked Him for His kindnesses, this is a ‘favorable time’ to ask for the needs of the individual and the community.
These are the fundamentals ‘on one foot,’ and the rest is commentary—go and learn!
Best regards, S.Z. Levinger
The number of idiots trying to educate the rabbi about his writing style is unbearable..
I’m completely in favor of comments, both about the style and about the substance.
The Ari, of blessed memory, wrote that in our times “we do not have the power through prayer to raise the externality of the worlds, only their inwardness.”
And the explanation, in my humble opinion, is that we do not know how to act through prayer upon the world outside us (which is a level close to performing miracles),
but rather we can act only upon and change our inner selves (and certainly expect the results of such change also in the external world).
That is, what can help us in prayer is the understanding that it is not a ritual (dry or otherwise), nor only a halakhic obligation.
It is involvement with our inner life, just as eating and sleeping are maintenance of life and are never loathsome.
Standing before God means returning and reconnecting to our inner world, to our beliefs and values and desires,
and straightening and renewing them by setting them before the Holy One, blessed be He.
Of course, for this there must first be a clarified recognition (that is, an intellectual one) of the Creator, of His existence and His will.
Then a person can be renewed and refreshed by awakening (and deepening) within himself his recognition of the Creator and His presence in his life.
By this he reminds himself of the most basic and important principles of his life, and aligns them with his recognition of his Creator, and tightens his bond to them.
Such service of the heart bears fruit in the external world in that in his practical life he will cling more to his values and not forget them.
This causes him to worry less and to be calm and secure. It causes him to be patient and pleasant. It gives him strength to devote himself to the things that matter to him.
And all these are the components of a successful life. And these are the results of prayer.
In paragraph 2:
… in which the one entering internalizes …
Why do you say that no one responded?
Isn’t claiming that Rabbi Michael is mistaken about reality and projects his own synagogues onto everyone else a claim?
And isn’t claiming that the basic premise of the whole article—that prayer does not work objectively but only subjectively—not a claim?
And the claim too that the advantages of the existing prayer outweigh the benefit of moving to a lean prayer (or a lean theology :)) is also a claim,
though it arose more between the lines here than directly.
Rabbi Michael sees no need to respond to these claims because, as he explained,
these are assumptions based on other things explained (at times) elsewhere.
However, attacking one foundational assumption with another foundational assumption is not the same as reciting slogans.
Hello and blessings,
A. I do not agree that today people do not connect to the component of request in prayer. On the contrary. People in distress (medical, financial, and so on) have a strong tendency to turn to the Holy One, blessed be He—whether in personal distress or communal distress. The proof: the prayers at the Western Wall when the three boys were kidnapped, or before the expulsion from Gush Katif, in which, as is known, a very large public participated. Therefore it is obvious that the public’s difficulty is with formalized, fixed prayer—or in your terms, the evil inclination of “rote.”
And furthermore, I do not know on what basis you can determine that nowadays the Holy One, blessed be He, does not respond to requests. Even in biblical times God’s response was not always immediate, and at the destruction of the First Temple many did not understand that it was because of their sins—but that does not mean that God did not respond to their deeds. It only means that He did not respond immediately. And I already wrote that the public’s experience is actually quite different, and therefore turning to God in times of crisis is very widespread.
B. Regarding prayer on Shabbat morning—this is another matter and unrelated, since there are almost no requests in the Shabbat prayer. In my opinion people enjoy the length of the prayer (it is a social matter for them). If this does not suit you, I suggest you move to a brisker minyan, and thank God there are many such. If people come only for prayer proper, then there is no reason the prayer should last more than an hour and a half—from the beginning of Pesukei DeZimra until Aleinu. [Some arrive at Nishmat, and then it’s only about an hour and a quarter.] אצלנו they simply pray at a fairly quick pace, and the gabbai also does not lengthen the blessings for those called up to the Torah, and the prayer lasts about an hour and a half. If the Torah reader would read quickly—then I think we’d finish within an hour and twenty. I pray in such a minyan, and there is no talking during prayer or reading pamphlets at all. There are newspapers in the synagogue, but there is simply hardly any time to read them during prayer. (For the same reason that in most synagogues there is almost no talking during prayer and newspaper reading on weekdays—because the prayer is brisk and focused and there is no time.)
As for Friday night—I suggest you pray an early Minchah on Friday and come only for Ma’ariv itself. It’s easier to study or read at home than next to people who are singing and dancing. They make it hard to concentrate.
I identify—words of truth!
There are also unfortunate righteous people who make an effort to gather the pamphlets from the floor…
In the past I wanted to fight against Friday-night sermons. At such an hour it seems absurd to me to insert a sermon… but then a cry arose against me from among the people: Do you want to kill us?! We are people with large families, and the only time in the week when we know a little rest is that one hour of the Friday-night sermon, and if you rob us of it—you have stolen its owner’s very soul!
There was once an unlearned fellow who one fine day invited his friends to a celebration for completing the Talmud. His friends asked me, Itzik—when on earth did you manage that?! We’ve never seen you open a Gemara… I’ll tell you, Itzik smiled, I did not grow up through Torah but through the rabbi’s sermons, and since he went on at length while you were snoring in tranquility and comfort, I learned a page and another page…
It turns out that the synagogue is a kind of city of refuge for some people, and for others a sort of communal gathering place, in the style of an old-age club…
I confess frankly: when I was newly religious I used to pray with all my heart; now, years later—I’ve become a captive infant… therefore I prefer to pray alone in the room next to the synagogue, and I go in for the priestly blessing or some Kaddish and the like—not that it really helps my prayer, practically speaking…
A. I am making two claims: that prayer indeed usually does not have an effect. And also that people themselves, for the most part, do not believe this. Turning to God in times of distress can be interpreted in several ways. Go and see how many people fulfilled the vows they made in times of distress (such as war).
B. The problem of length is not only a matter of duration. A significant portion of the content is irrelevant and much of it repetitive. Think about your child coming home from school and telling you that the teacher teaches them every day two lessons consisting of the same two Psalms, in exactly the same way each time, once in the morning and once in the evening. They are required to be creative, maintain concentration, and listen every single day to exactly the same thing. You would call the police for abuse, wouldn’t you?
And as proof, even on weekdays when there are no pamphlets, prayer does not really do much for the average worshipper and does not really speak to him. It is an entirely technical matter. Therefore it is long even if done in twenty minutes. The pamphlets were brought in my remarks only as an indication of the essential problem in prayer, beyond the fact that they are also a problem in themselves (preaching to a captive audience).
I will copy what I wrote below:
Think about your child coming home from school and telling you that the teacher teaches them every day two lessons consisting of the same two Psalms, in exactly the same way each time, once in the morning and once in the evening. They are required to be creative, maintain concentration, and listen every single day to exactly the same thing. You would call the police for abuse, wouldn’t you?
In my opinion, the problem exists with almost everyone and in almost all synagogues. This is not merely a generalization from my synagogues. The pamphlets are only an indication of the problem. It exists even when there are no pamphlets and everyone sways properly. How many people are really not doing this on a purely technical level? How many people really think it is relevant?
I went through all the comments and responses to the post. My feeling is that an intellectual cult is beginning to form around Michael Abraham, one that accepts his words without criticism and rushes to defend him against the ignorant masses who try to correct him.
Apparently there is not much difference between the Har Hamor cult and the cult of intellectuals found here.
To Rabbi Michael Abraham,
A. There may be different interpretations of people’s turning to the Holy One, blessed be He, in times of personal or public distress, but my interpretation is very simple—they feel there is point in such prayer. Therefore I do not agree with your determination that people feel there is no point in the requests of prayer. Rather, the problem is that it is repeated every day in the same way, as you described. In fact, this problem also exists with tefillin and tzitzit and the blessings over Torah study and Grace after Meals and other blessings or commandments that repeat themselves and over time one already loses enthusiasm for them.
I imagine that lulav and shofar would also be boring if we had to do them every day.
Would you also propose abolishing them?
And what about the praise part of prayer? According to your view too, that is relevant. And on Shabbat there is almost no request, only praise and thanksgiving (or reading Tanakh). I would be glad if you could elaborate more on your position regarding this part of prayer, because it is not clear to me.
I will just note that if you are opposed to prayer that repeats itself, the meaning is that there will be no prayer at all. (Not request, not praise, not thanksgiving.) After all, even today there is nothing preventing personal prayers, but in my estimation almost no one does this. There is no meaning to a call that each person should pray whenever and however it seems fitting to him. It simply will not happen.
With God’s help, 3 Tammuz 5777
To Chet – greetings,
Indeed, the advice “to introduce something new into his prayer” was proposed in the Gemara in Berakhot as one of the solutions to the problem of “one who makes his prayer fixed—his prayer is not supplication.” In chapter two there is a whole page of personal prayers that tannaim and amoraim would add at the end of their prayer. I see Sephardim approach the holy ark at the end of the prayer service and whisper a personal prayer.
Getting used to opening the heart and the mouth in a personal appeal, even a very brief one, to God—can breathe new life into the whole fixed prayer. For who does not need knowledge, repentance, forgiveness, redemption from suffering, healing, and livelihood? How much we need ingathering of exiles, the correction of justice and of spiritual and political leadership, the building of Jerusalem and the Temple, and last but not least: peace!
Best regards, S.Z. Levinger
As stated, the gates of interpretation have not been locked. In any case, it seems difficult to dispute that prayer is perceived as irrelevant by very many people. The example of the lulav is not of the same kind of matter, and I have already explained this here several times (the comparison to tefillin). For lulav there is only a requirement to intend to fulfill one’s obligation, and even an unspecified act is assumed to be for its own sake. But in prayer, without intention of the words and standing before God, it is not clear what value it has at all. Would you also accept an obligation to recite the phone book three times every day? Therefore, if you perform the lulav ritual without intention, and even if it were repetitive (three times a day all year for an hour and a half total per day, as opposed to taking the lulav, which is one minute for seven days a year), it would still have meaning. Not so with repetitive prayer.
Therefore praise too, which indeed certainly has a place, if it means repeating the same thing again and again three times a day, seems very problematic. I have already written here the following:
Think about your child coming home from school and telling you that the teacher teaches them every day two lessons consisting of the same two Psalms, in exactly the same way each time, once in the morning and once in the evening. They are required to be creative, maintain concentration, and listen every single day to exactly the same thing. You would call the police for abuse, wouldn’t you?
Rabbi Michi,
In the days of the Sages, study too was repetitive, because they studied orally and repeated countless times. After all, in our prayer too sections of study were instituted, and every day we say the same mishnayot and the same baraitot.
Dear Dvir,
Very possibly so.
Though Michi is the last person who would encourage such a phenomenon.
But there is a human component here of people who for years felt that the rabbis and Torah on one side and science on the other were speaking over their heads,
and suddenly a Jewish man arises, exceptionally learned,
who starts speaking to them at the level of their eyes and intellect,
and is not afraid of any question.
We have here our own little plot of God,
which does not dictate to us what to think,
and proposes discussing the core matters without fear.
Usually the initial natural tendency is to defend and rally around,
(sometimes a little like foolish Hasidim),
around the person who gave us a voice.
Later, usually, the stage of maturation comes,
and one learns the teacher’s way,
and not what he says,
and each person learns to draw out his own part and his own characteristic way of seeing,
from the Torah and worldview,
as Michi works so hard to open up.
Thank you, my teacher and rabbi.
Sorry for the sentimentality.
To Rabbi Michael Abraham,
I did not understand what your proposal is on the practical level. What changes do you propose making in prayer?
Just stop coming to prayer anymore. Leave us alone. You and your bunch of bootlickers. What a chatterbox creature. The vast majority of prayer is not request, and even according to your own view that prayer doesn’t work (I’m not saying there is no providence), that’s relevant only to a very small part. If you’d study a bit more, you’d discover the meaning of prayer even in such a situation. Honestly, until this post I thought it was a merit for our public to have people like you among us. But you’re such a chatterbox. And the bunch of idiots around you. Disgusting.
Hello.
Repetitive study is not like repetitive prayer (the same comparison that keeps recurring here between prayer and other commandments). If you do not have intention in study or if it bores you, that may be a problem to overcome, but it does not negate the meaning of study. But prayer without intention has no value. Beyond that, I do not think study was necessarily repetitive. One can study the same thing in different ways. But in prayer, even if there are Torah sections (like “These are the things that have no measure”), it is not practical to study them within the framework of prayer. One says them, and that is that. Could it really enter your mind that we should begin to examine the commentators and think about every such section every day, or three times a day?
Beyond that, studying Torah by heart is no longer repetitive. There is some challenge here (knowing it by heart). But saying the same thing every day three times when you already know it by heart is sickening, no? And in study they did not do the same thing three times every day. At most they repeated until they knew it by heart. After all, they had to cover the whole Oral Torah. Therefore in my opinion there is no similarity between the matters.
Thank you. Powerful words.
At the first stage one has to decide whether there is a problem, and if so, that there is an obligation to try to solve it. Afterward one can think systematically about the details.
On the practical level I would first examine Pesukei DeZimra and the repetition of the prayer leader. The same goes for piyyutim on festivals (such as on the High Holy Days) or lamentations. The question of the minyan should also be examined. There are many sides this way and that regarding every detail, and I do not have a fully developed doctrine on the matter, since it requires public discussion and clarification. My goal here is mainly to provoke discussion, not to set things in stone (I do not think I have the right or authority to change things for the public). And from me and from you the Most High will be praised.
Thank you. I love you too. 🙂
I agree with most of your conclusions, but they are not true of the overwhelming majority of synagogues of the Eastern communities, where I prefer to pray.
There are pamphlets there, but the overwhelming majority of people do not read them (the pamphlets have referrals to cantors who are not Kurdish or piyyut singers like Chabousha). The prayer there is serious; during the Amidah of Shacharit and Musaf, the feeling is that you are standing before the King of kings.
The conclusion is that there is indeed a need for revision, but it should be done in the format of the Eastern communities.
Let Abraham’s children come and pray there, let them secretly bring along books from Shalem Press, but when they pray they will feel the awe of standing before the Creator of the world.
P.S. An important component in the prayer of the Eastern communities is the repetition of every word in the prayer, and not just the first verse and the last verse for dessert.