I enjoy working with our Bar and Bat Mitzvah students. We have a wonderful program that offers me opportunity to get to know them as well as study with them. In particular, I work with the students on two of their speeches. One of them is known in our office as the “Prayer to God”. It is the student's personal opportunity to write an original prayer, sharing feelings, thoughts and aspects of their spiritual journey with God.
We are blessed with wonderful students that are committed to being well prepared to stand in front of the congregation, to read from Torah, and to chant from their Haftarah verses. Yet, almost to a one, they are uncomfortable creating individual prayers. While we have successfully taught them to navigate the prayerbook, to understand the basics of Jewish holidays, and to embrace their Jewish identity, we have children that cannot voice their own personal prayers without significant guidance. They feel vulnerable and incompetent when asked to pray without the guidance of our prayerbook.
While I've noticed this problem acutely with our students, this issue touches Jewish adults as well. We also struggle with personal prayer. We feel awkward, uncomfortable, and inadequate, with unscripted, or outside the prayerbook, communication with God.
I am reminded of an experience I had as a student rabbi. I had enrolled in a program that trains people to become hospital chaplains, called CPE. As a young chaplain trainee, I made rounds at a hospital in Cincinnati, OH. One afternoon, armed only with a name tag that proclaimed me as Chaplain, I walked into a hospital room.
The small room was jam packed. At least ten people surrounded the bed of a feeble-clearly dying-elderly woman. As I walked in, someone turned around, glanced at my name tag, and grabbed the hand of the person next to her. She said, “The Chaplain's here. We gonna pray now”. And they all grabbed hands, hurled me into their tight knit circle, and bowed their heads. They were ready. I, however, was not. I was petrified. I hadn't brought anything with me. How would I pray? I had no book. I had no guide. What was I supposed to say? Wishing that the floor would swallow me up, I stumbled through a prayer, all the while listening to “mmm-hmms” and “amens”. When I finished, each person in that room hugged me. I had uttered more “Ums” than actual words, and yet, they felt more at ease with the impending death of their loved one.
Rabbi Zalman Schachter Shalomi, of the Renewal movement, writes of the importance of prayer. He teaches, “To me, the act of prayer, though it seems unnatural to the modern mind, is in fact the most natural thing in the world. Our desire to connect is so basic. We want to feel God's presence in our lives. We want to offer our thanks. We want help and guidance. We need protection and encouragement. . . . once we feel that . . . I believe that some form of prayer will happen naturally-if we let it.”
We have become fearful of acknowledging our deep need for individual, personal connection with God. We have lost our ability to simply talk to God.
I believe the roots of our discomfort and timidity are, to some extent, traceable. Our ancient rabbis, thousands of years ago, acknowledged that praying to God was daunting. They knew that our ancestors were asking: How do we find words for the hardships and blessings of our lives that feel authentic? The rabbis recognized this problem, and they addressed it by establishing of a fixed order of prayers, eventually creating scripted words as well.
They set up our liturgy so that we can communicate with God by not having to invent our own prayers to God. They eliminated the intimidation of prayer, and allowed all to engage in prayer. With this brilliant tool, also offered the ability to pray without feeling that God's response to our worship will be based on how eloquent or poetic our words are. Additionally, because the words are similar at every service we attend -they are approximately the same on each Sabbath, on each festival-- we can walk into a synagogue anywhere in the world and find a familiarity with the service. The Sh'ma is a perfect example.
Our fixed liturgy, is indeed, a brilliant “invention” It allows us to connect God, and bond with our community as well. It is a support in our quest for relationship with God. Our rabbis have offered us a gift: words with which to speak to God. The structure of the service helps us find expressions when we would more likely stammer through our praise and petitions. It is a gift, and we continue to build on this vital tradition.
Yet with the development of our liturgy, our personal words have become somewhat discouraged. We feel we must stay within the confines of the book, or we feel lost, or, perhaps, as if we are not doing the right thing. We have to become more confident of our own individual voices. Rabbi Zalman Schachter- Shalomi, of the Renewal Movement, wrote, “It [our prayer book] is full of conversations from personal prayers of the heart, to public prayers on behalf of the entire people . . our psalms and our siddur, or prayerbook, are treasure troves of letters to God. So talking to God is not only a natural urge, it is a very Jewish one.” As Rabbi Shachter Shalomi teachers, our prayerbook, ultimately, is a compilation of personal correspondences to God. We must assign ourselves the sacred task of learning how to engage in spontaneous, individual prayer, blending our own sacred voices with the sacred voices of our traditions.
A well-known story is told, often on Rosh Hashanah, about a young boy named Daniel. Daniel, as the story goes, did not know how to read, and wasn't able to pray with everyone else during services. While sitting in synagogue during Rosh Hashanah services, Daniel was frustrated, because he could not participate. So, he took out this shiny, silver flute (a gift from his parents) and began to play. A beautiful note emerged. His family stopped him immediately, and were embarrassed by this act. They admonished him severely. However, a leader in the community came over to them. He explained that Daniel was praying to God in his own way, and in his own special language. Then, the rabbi explained to the congregation that God certainly understands prayer through a flute, because it was directed, truly, from the heart.
Throughout rabbinic literature, in the Talmud and Codes, we often see the repeated phrase im kiven et libo, yatzah-- if the individual directed his or her heart to God, they have successfully accomplished the commandment of prayer. We needn't worry that we are an eloquent wordsmith. We must simply open up, ready to share our thoughts with God. Then, will we be like Daniel, our prayers surely accepted by God.
When we think about the ancient rabbis, who created a legacy of liturgy that still speaks to us today, we must intuit that they must have been on a similar journey as ourselves. They were striving, as we are today, to lead a good and fulfilling life. They, too, were struggling to forge and understand their connection to the Divine. Therefore, it makes sense for us to turn to familiar scripted prayers as we seek to find our own prayer-voice. They have much to offer.
In working to gain confidence in creating individual entreaties to God, we can make the prayers in our prayer book more personal. For example, on page 155, of our prayerbook, which we read this evening, the prayer called Hodaah, Gifts and Blessings, which begins: Eternal Source of Good, we thank Your for the numberless gifts and blessing that fill our days, for the life itself and endless variety. . . . Turning that into my own prayer, I might say, “God, thank for the good things that happened this week. I have been blessed in many ways, and I ask You to help me continue to see the blessings and gifts in my life.” The words of our prayer book spring to life when we add ourselves to them. In this way, we gain momentum in the quest to create our own unscripted prayer. We needn't worry that our worship be based on how articulate or poetic our words are. In fact, the second-century sage Rabbi Yose taught that when the Israelites were given the Torah at Sinai, each of them heard a different voice of God. God's response, as is ours, is unique for each of us.
A colleague of mine, Rabbi Elliot Kleinman, teaches a wonderful lesson about prayer. He concedes that we, often, are bereft of words at crucial moments in our live. What do we say when we see a rainbow? What do we say when our child accomplishes something wonderful? When a dinner with true friends leaves us truly satiated, mind, body and spirit? We can't let these moments go by, simply because we feel we don't have the right words. Rather, he teaches, we should simply say, “ Baruch Atah Adonai. . . . Wow.”
When I studied with him, last spring at the Greene Family Camp Family Retreat, I loved this lesson, and have carried it with me. It invites us to offer prayers without the pressure of doing it right.
Since the spring, I have tried this method. Just a few weeks ago, I was driving home from services and saw a rainbow. While there is a specific blessing written for this miracle, I couldn't remember one of the words. So, instead, I said: Baruch Atah Adonai,Wow-How fantastic are the colors in this rainbow! What a gift for me to see on my drive home, and even during Shabbat. Thank you.” And with that beginning, I've added words in addition to “wow”. I feel more at ease, relaxed as I offer words from my heart that are appropriate to the event. What a wonderful tool to help us engage and connect!
The journey to connect with God is not new. From ancient times, the desire to find the divine presence in our lives has been an ever present journey. With our inheritance of our prayerbook, we have been given a gift of communication. However, this gift cannot allow us to become complacent in our quest for sacred relationship. The two tools I have mentioned this evening-making personal the words found in our prayerbook, and Rabbi Kleinman's lesson of “Baruch Atah Adonai- Wow” offer us ways begin this most important and sacred task. As you have seen, it is not hard to create our own, personal prayer to God. It is a task that we must become better equipped to do. If we accept this challenge, and begin to voice our prayers-of petition, of thanks, of praise-we will find ourselves connected to God in a most profound and fulfilling way.
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