Showing posts with label Daven. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Daven. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 23, 2018

A Primer on Prayer

A Primer on Prayer

Relax.  Don’t agonize over keeping up with the pages.  If you find a prayer whose words touch you, stay there.   No need to rush.

Try not to carry on conversations.  Not just because of decorum but because chit-chat undermines the mood of refection and deep thought for you as well as others.
Come early.
Stay late.
A brief encounter may leave you cold.  Tap into the sprit of the day.

Relax again.

Think about you.  Think about God.  Perhaps try not to think at all.

Bring your whole self to the davenning. Put yourself into it. God loves you, haven’t you heard? And He wants to hear from you. Pour your heart out. Speak to Him. And listen.

Listening is critical. Do not just “read” the words of the siddur. Prayers were written by religious and psychological geniuses. When we open our hearts, the prayers the words form into a symphony.

Davenning is a privilege.  You are participating in a mystical colloquy with God, man, Israel and the Jewish people-past, present and future.

Participate in the Torah reading. Visualize the event. Ask the actors why they are doing what they are doing.
Don't take your pulse. If you’re enjoying the services, let it take you. Forget yourself.

If it feels good and right, belt it out.


Wednesday, May 17, 2017

God

A key to understanding ourselves lies within gazing at our offspring.  To look at them is to gain personal insight.  After all, our children grow to embody the sensibilities, sensitivities and principles that we hold as sacred.  This may also be why our children sometimes have a problem with God, because we are uncertain.
“God” is one of those - well, you know – words, things, that is difficult to identify unless we are about to hit a car or in process of giving birth.  That is not to say that we do not believe in God.  Most Americans have a firmly rooted belief in the Supreme Being.  They will even pray.  Sometimes.
Developing a sense of comfort with a personal God is more challenging.  One colleague has gone so far as to say that until a couple discusses what God means to them in their lives they are not truly intimate.  Only when such a sensitive issue is shared without embarrassment can people be said to be really honest each other.  There is truth here.
Children are receptacles for what spills over from our lives into theirs.  Our beliefs have a profound impact in forming their inner core values.  Feeling shy or reticent to speak about God is a reflection who we are.  It is not them.  It is us. 
I strongly suspect that is why so many young Jews today turn away from faith and religion.  They infer that God is too mysterious and distant and potentially dangerous, a societal taboo.
As Jews Hebrew compounds the problem.  Christians have less difficulty in expressing their values in religious terms than Jews.  Jews would greatly prefer to worm their way around such worn aphorisms, like “God loves you.”  In Hebrew it presents as less dangerous and more austere.  The only problem is, nobody understands what he or she is saying.  All are familiar with the phrase, “Our Father who art in heaven.”  Jewish words.  Comes from Avinu Sh-ba’shamyim.   How about, “God loves you?”  We say those words each day before the Shma.  We call it the “Ahava Rabba.”
A key factor in coming to terms with God is developing a comfort level with our verbiage.  I urge people to try speaking out loud to God when praying from the heart (or even from the siddur).  In fact, the Talmud and Shulchan Aruch demand such.  It can be an awesome experience to speak aloud to God.  Most important is to find our deep-set belief in the Ultimate and nourish it, feed it.
The Baal Shem Tov once told of a young man who wanted to learn the art of becoming a blacksmith.  He approached an older, established man wanting to become an apprentice.  Learning from this teacher, the young man was a quick study; he learned all the skills of the trade.  Going out on his own however, the young man soon failed.  He returned to his teacher and asked what he was doing wrong.  The elder replied, “You have all the information, all the necessary tools and you’ve mastered the techniques.  What remains is to learn how to kindle the spark.”

Rabbi Jonathan Case

PS God bless you




Tuesday, January 6, 2015

What I Want in a Synagogue


            I want a community of peers, not just congregants.  There is a great difference between the two.  In the first instance we stand shoulder-to-shoulder bearing Beth Shalom.  In the second instance, there is an imbalance when one person sings boisterously in a largely silent community or a cantor cants alone.  I want you to know that one of the primary reasons I wanted to join you is because I perceived this to be community of involved, interested people.  I liked what I saw heard when we first met. 
I do not like “singing” alone.  My first comment to the leadership of this community many months ago was that I liked to strongly encourage congregational participation.  For me, the ‘kiss of death’ of my professional life is when a congregational service is a performance.  It must never become that.
I read with interest a recent article in "Conservative Judaism," which told of a worshipper who was chastised for “singing to loudly,” (check it out on the Spring issue 2008).  Reading the story made me cringe.  How awful!
In an opera house it is impolite (to say the least) to cough, chat or make any kind of disturbance.  In some houses of worship, it is much the same. Members are supposed to sit with their hands clasped front of them, resting in their lap, silent and attentive.  That is not the Jewish ideal; it is not even Jewish.
The Jewish way is leading with the voice.  It is singing, full-throated and filled with zeal.  The aim of prayer is to touch the Almighty.  One does this by entering into a dialogue; singing praises, crying tears of hope and despair, reaching out of oneself to find a connection with the Holy One.  Go to any uplifting service and ask yourself why it was so meaningful.  The only consistent answer is participation.  Where the members sing out loud and put their soul into their prayers it becomes a spiritual and meaningful event.  I am no different from you: I seek the same experience.
I sometimes wonder if I became a rabbi not because of what I saw as a youngster but despite it.  Services were dull.  The only good part was sitting next to dad and playing with his tzitzit…and later on with mine.  I wondered then if there was a way to change that.
Nowadays when somebody sings too loudly I bless them.  When someone shouts out an “Amen!” I am buoyed.  When members yell, “yasher koach!” after someone receives an aliyah, I grin.  That is the way it is supposed to be.
God doesn’t like quiet.  Does that sound absurd?  The Talmud actually says that in different words.  The Talmud instructs us that when we pray, “Our ears must hear what our mouth is saying.”  In other words, there is no ‘silent prayer.’  Ever.
We pray with our mouths and bodies (traditionally, called ‘shuckling’).  We talk to God in much the same way that we speak with one another.  We express ourselves in voice that sometimes rises and falls, with our hands as we gesticulate and with expressiveness that marks our sincerity.
It is time to leave behind the traditional Protestant modality that we have absorbed a bit too well.  Jews don’t sit still.  We never did.

I hope you find your voice at your shul.

Sunday, March 9, 2014

The Secret to God

He came to me with a complaint.  His face was open and needy.  “I want to be spiritual but do not know how.  I really want to learn.  Teach me!  I watch you daven and I know you are talking to God.  I see it in your face.  I want that too.  How do I get there?"


Rebbe Nachman knew.  Long ago he said, “When I speak with someone I want to hear the highest words from his mouth.”
When someone would speak to him Rebbe Nachman would intensely listen to each uttered word.  They were intentional.  Nachman knew that in each dialogue there were hidden gems that had the potential of changing his life.  Imagine such a thought! 
It was not what the person said but what Rebbe Nachman heard that made the ultimate difference.  Every word contained the kernels of personal revelation.  His sole task was to listen.

“This,” I said to my complainant, “is the principle of true davenning.  It is all about listening, being awake and aware and, of course, truthful with our words.”
The words we hear and the ones we speak can have a dramatic effect on us spiritually.  If we are looking for voices of growth and learning they will appear almost everywhere.
This is the primary principle of davenning: Listen.  Take the words to hear.  Utter each word with intentionality (kavannah).  This is the whole secret to becoming a spiritual being.