In Matthew 6:1-18, Yeshua emphasizes the importance of kavana, of proper intention, in observance of Torah commands. According to Yeshua, the intention of observing the mitzvot should not be so that others see you doing them, but rather out of obedience to HaShem.

When giving tzedaka, Yeshua states that one is to do so without drawing attention to one’s self, or to the amount. For when done so “your tzedaka will be a secret; and your Father, who sees what you do in secret, will reward you (vs. 4).

In the same way, Yeshua also states that when praying, you are not to pray in a way that draws attention to yourself. But rather, you are to go secretly into your “prayer closet.” For our communication is the primary link in our relationship with the Divine. For when we pray in secret, and do not attempt to win the admiration of others, our Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward us (vs. 6).

Yeshua also gives us some unique insight into prayer itself. That we should not worry about being eloquent, or wordy. But to pray simply, “for your Father knows what you need before you even ask him (vs. 8).” This idea that G-d is more pleased with the humble prayers of the righteous is paralleled in the Talmud:

The pattern Yeshua follows with (commonly known as “the Lord’s Prayer”) is actually the basic outline of several prayer formulas common within Jewish tradition. The beginning of the prayer, “Our Father in Heaven – Avinu She’BaShamayim,” is the opening of several liturgical prayers in Judaism. And the following line, “may your Name be kept holy” is echoed in the Kaddish – “yitgadal v’yitkadash, shmey raba - magnified and sanctified be your great name.”

What Yeshua does is give us a pattern for prayer. It is not a magic formula, or the only way to pray, but the basic format for acknowledging and communicating with G-d. What is additionally interesting is that this prayer of Yeshua incorporates and acknowledges patterns of prayer already existing within the Jewish world. Yeshua appropriates and further invigorates the words of tradition and gives them a fuller meaning and understanding.

Yeshua's common practice is to give Jewish tradition a deeper and fuller meaning. To correct misunderstandings and interpretations that miss the central tenet of justice, mercy and faith (Mt. 23:23). In our observance of the mitzvot, may we take heed the words of Yeshua, and live out Torah with the holiest of intentions, and do the mitzvot to honor G-d, rather than the approval or admiration of others.

-HaRav Joseph Soloveitchik

Recognizing Our Baggage

Prayer comes in many forms – individual, communal, formal, and spontaneous. And each form is just as important for a mature and vibrant spiritual life.

If so, what keeps us from engaging deeply in Jewish prayer? Why is it so difficult for many people to find liturgy spiritual, moving, and relevant? Much of it has to do with our thinking about prayer, and the baggage we bring into it.

Jewish Prayer Must Be Learned

Firstly, Jewish prayer is not easy. It must be learned. There is no way around it. So for many of us, the learning curve leaves us feeling clumsy and out of place. However, as the saying goes, nothing ever worth having comes easy. Prayer is like riding a bicycle. You may fall a few times, and it may take time before you can remove the training wheels. But once you do, the possibilities are endless. Personally, I have become so familiar with the liturgy that unencumbered by the words, I often find myself drifting back and forth between my spiritual prayer language and the Hebrew. The form is actually similar. We just do not often recognize the connection.

Perceived Dichotomy of "Worship" vs. Liturgy

For many of us, there is also an often subconscious tension between “worship” vs. liturgy. Due to a strong influence from more contemporary Christian forms of worship, we often adopt modes of thinking that consider “true worship” to be of a particular style and genre. However, there is actually no such dichotomy between liturgical and contemporary forms of worship. Especially when one considers that within a Messianic context, most of the “worship songs” are actually taken from the liturgy.

Nostalgia

There are also those who grew up in homes where synagogue attendance was somewhat a regular part of their lives. And yet, spiritual growth can be hindered by nostalgia. For some, the service was dead and why go back to such practices. Or for others, it might ‘feel nice and Jewish,’ but it does not provide deep spiritual meaning. As such, it is often shelved with hot apple pie, potato kugel, or latkes. And there are always those for whom the liturgy is not deeply meaningful because they are caught up in the myth that “it has to be done this way!” They are so enveloped in “doing it right” that they are distracted from engaging liturgy in ways that bring us closer to HaShem.

Lastly, related to the above, there are also those who get caught up in a “Fiddler on the Roof mentality.” For these people, Judaism is not deeply spiritual and moving because they are enamored by the window dressing. They may look, dress, and try to talk like Fiddler on the Roof characters, or like Chasidim, but they do not understand the beauty and richness, as well as the elasticity of Jewish spirituality. They may try to look the part – yet they are also usually the first people who cannot read Hebrew, do not have mezuzot on their doors, or know how to lay Tefillin – all of which are basic and essential components of true Jewish spirituality. They are not fooling anyone. Any real Orthodox Jew would have the basics down before the clothing. There must be foundations to build upon.

Moving Forward

So as we rethink Jewish prayer, let’s also ask ourselves questions. Granted there are many, many ways to make liturgy boring. However, let’s also ask, is the problem the liturgy or us? Is subconscious baggage contributing to my inability to engage G-d through Jewish prayer? If so, let’s work together to move forward. To look deeper at prayer (in all its forms), and reconnect to communal worship through liturgy.

Stay tuned as we continue to discuss Jewish prayer and practical suggestions for rethinking Jewish prayer.

“L’Shanah tovah tikateivu – May you be inscribed for a sweet New Year!”

What do you think about prayer?

Do you envision prayer as participation in a Sacred Drama?

Do you think of the Siddur as an instrument of holiness?

As the High Holidays approach, it is appropriate to think deeper about prayer. For when we pray, we are not just reciting meaningless words, or remembering something that happened in the past. Rather, Jewish prayer is a re-enactment and reliving of sacred events. Through the ritual of prayer we become participants in the Sacred. It is important to think of the Siddur as one would think about a script. Through reenacting these events, we live out the story of the Jewish people, our Covenant with HaShem, and participate with the angels in heavenly worship.

Dancing through History

For example, through the Mi Khamokha section of a prayer service (which comes before the Amidah), we relive our redemption from Egypt and celebrate our crossing of the Red Sea.

Renewing Covenant

The Torah Service as well serves as a reenactment of the giving of the Torah on Mt. Sinai. Every time the Torah is removed from the ark, we have the opportunity to recommit ourselves to G-d’s covenant, and respond to HaShem’s Torah. As followers of Yeshua, the Torah is also interestingly a perfect reenactment of the life of Yeshua and the essentials of the Gospel message.

According to John 1, Yeshua is the Torah made flesh. The Torah is the symbol of our covenant with HaShem, deepened and permeated through the Living Torah, our Messiah. When we remove the Torah from the ark, it is an illustration of the incarnation. When we process it through the congregation, we each have an opportunity to reach out and take hold of the message. When the Torah is brought to the bimah and read out loud in front of the community, it is a picture of the Gospel message proclaimed before Israel and the nations. And when we raise up the Torah, it is not just a picture of the ascension, but of Yeshua’s words that, “if I be lifted up I will draw all people unto myself (John 12:32).” And lastly, when we close the doors of the ark after putting the Torah away, we are awaiting the second coming, when Mashiach will be revealed once again.

Singing with Angels

One of my favorite parts of the service is the Kedusha during the Amidah, when we rise up on our toes while reciting “Kadosh, kadosh, kadosh … Holy is the L-rd of Hosts, the whole earth is filled with Your glory!” The Kedusha is our participation alongside the angels of heaven worshiping around G-d’s throne. In ancient Jewish understanding, it was believed that angels did not have knees. So in keeping with this ancient practice, we still rise up on our toes with knees locked in imitating the angels in heaven.

According to Chief Rabbi Sir Jonathan Sacks:

Shaping Theology

However, Jewish prayer (when understood as sacred drama) is more than just a reenactment of defining events. Prayer actually shapes our theology. It establishes the way we think about Torah and shapes our concepts of redemption and salvation.

The Siddur also serves as a guide for preparing the way for Mashiach, and the concept that prayer must lead to action. Repentance (teshuva) is also one of the primary tools the Siddur uses in preparing the way of HaShem. The Siddur also teaches us how to be holy.

In my own personal davening, I often prefer the Conservative Siddur, Sim Shalom, because of its traditional feel, yet intentional deviations of inclusiveness and social consciousness. For example, on pages 8-9, Sim Shalom inserts a passage from the Torah (Parashat Kedoshim) recalling our obligation to be holy:

This recitation reminds us that in Jewish understanding, Holiness is not some mystical state of being that we all hope to attain. Rather, Holiness is a lifestyle. According to Abraham Joshua Heschel:

The Siddur, in so many ways, reminds us of who we really are and what G-d expects from us. Through the Aleinu we remind ourselves that redemption begins with us, and through our concluding morning prayers we anticipate Yimot Ha’Mashiach – the days of Messiah.

Stay tuned next week as we discuss the baggage we often bring to the Siddur which keeps us from experiencing prayer as sacred drama. We will also explore how to shop for a Siddur, and practical suggestions for delving deeper into Jewish prayer.

“L’Shanah Tovah Tikateivu – May you be inscribed for a sweet New Year!”

Inspired by one of Tim Layne's past posts, I decided to expand on the Chasidic concept of Hitbodedut.

Reb Nachman of Breslov, a great-grandson of the Baal Shem Tov and founder of Breslover Chasidus, breathed new life into Judaism by combining the mystical elements of Chasidus with in-depth Torah scholarship.

In addition to regular davening from the Siddur, Reb Nachman frequently recited extemporaneous prayers. In fact, he taught his Chasidim (his followers) that they should spend at least one hour alone each day, talking aloud to G-d in his or her own words, as if "talking to a good friend." This practice was to be in addition to the prayers of the Siddur. Breslover Chasidim still follow this practice today, which is known as hitbodedut (literally, "to make oneself be in solitude"). Rebbe Nachman taught that the best place to do hitbodedut was in a field or forest, among the natural works of HaShem's creation. The hours spent in secluded prayer, according to Reb Nachman, were one of the primary ways to build a relationship with G-d.

According to Rabbi Wayne Dosick, quoting Reb Nachman:

'Hitbodedut' - inner-directed, unstructured, active self-expression before G-d - 'is the highest path of all. Take it!' (Dancing with G-d, p.49)

Within our prayer lives, we need communal and personal forms of prayer, the structure of the Siddur, as well as hitbodedut. For they all draw us closer to HaShem. And yet, there is something special about our personal prayer times - alone, secluded, without distraction.

This type of prayer, which Rebbe Nachman referred to as hitbodedut was also practiced and encouraged by our own "rebbe." Yeshua himself would often go off into seclusion to pray. We see this many times throughout the Besorot.

Although Yeshua exemplifies the pattern of formal communal worship within the Temple and synagogues, he also teaches us:

The true motivation for prayer is not, as it has been said, the sense of being at home in the universe, but rather the sense of not being at home in the universe.

Is there a sensitive heart that could stand indifferent and feel at home in the sight of so much evil and suffering, in the face of countless failures to live up to the will of G-d? On the contrary, the experience of not being at home in the world is a motivation for prayer.

The experience gains intensity in the amazing awareness that G-d himself is not at home in the universe. He is not at home in a universe where His will is defied and where His kingship is denied. G-d is in exile; the world is corrupt. The universe itself is not at home.

To pray means to bring G-d back into the world, to establish His kingship for a second at least. To pray means to expand His presence.

Parashat Lekh Lekha

In the opening words of this week’s Torah portion, G-d speaks to Abraham, saying:

At the age of seventy-five, Abraham left his home in modern day Iraq, and traveled all the way to the land of modern Israel. Included in the command to leave his homeland was also a promise that G-d would multiply Abraham’s descendents, and that they would inherit a new homeland.

This must have come as quite a shock. At an age where Abraham should have been settling down and enjoying retirement, G-d basically exiles him from his place of comfort. The place he had always known. The place where he speaks the language, knows the customs, and knows all his neighbors.

Through an act of great faith Abraham did it. He left all he had ever known and set out to a place he was not even sure of yet. But he trusted G-d would be with him, and would eventually reveal where this place would be. He trusted the calling.

What makes this act of faith even more remarkable is the fact that Abraham also trusted G-d’s promise of children. At the age of seventy-five, like most of us, he must have finally given up on any hope of a child.

Throughout the difficult years that followed – battles, wanderings, and expulsions – Abraham remained convinced that G-d would remain faithful to his promise. That is – until the day his faith gave out!

One day, at the age of ninety-nine - twenty-four long years later – G-d appeared again to Abraham and reemphasized the promise of blessing. That was enough! Abraham could not take it any longer! Abraham threw himself to the ground and scoffed:

By this point Abraham’s faith was so weak that it took an additional appearance by G-d found in next week’s parasha to finally convince him that he would indeed have a son (see Genesis 18:10-15).

In the end – in spite of all the trials – Abraham and Sarah did have a son. It took an exile to bring a blessing. So it is often with us. We often need to be removed from our comfort zones in order to see spiritual fruit in our lives.

When we stand before G-d at the beginning of the Amidah, we take three steps back. We exile ourselves from G-d’s presence. It is G-d’s way of telling us, “Lekh lekha…get yourself out of that place of comfort…that place of stagnancy…” So that in the end, when we take three steps forward, like Abraham, we will step into the place of destiny and blessing.

Abraham Joshua Heschel says it is a fact that in certain places prayer is of consequence. The leaders, the community, approach prayer as if it matters, not as a gimmick for Jewish continuity, not for social purposes, to bring kids within Yiddishkayt. Prayer as prayer matters. If prayer doesn't matter, then why are we doing this? Why are we wasting our time if these words and these prayers don't matter?

BJ's rabbis believe [that prayer] must be first experienced emotionally and spiritually, rather than understood intellectually and analytically. Consequently, even though many members have only limited knowledge of Hebrew and many do not come from observant backgrounds, there is little instruction or step-by-step explanation of the liturgy at services. Increasing Jewish literacy is important, but it is a separate activity from prayer that is "of consequence." "Learning," Rabbi Marcelo Bronstein explains, “is understood with your mind. Prayer is understood with your soul.” Or, as Rabbi Roly Matalon put it, "Tefillah is not a class." Their goal is for congregants to be so moved by the experience of prayer that they will be inspired to study and take advantage of the panoply of educational opportunities offered by the synagogue.

Instead of didactically instructing the congregation, the rabbis see themselves as "spiritual cables" who, through their own emotional involvement in prayer and their Kavanah (intention in prayer), model, inspire, and guide the prayer of the congregation. Rabbi Roly explained the importance of rabbis genuinely praying with their congregations by referring to a passage in Heschel's Man's Quest for God:

Such an atmosphere [of prayer] is not created by ceremonies, gimmicks or speeches, but by the example of prayer, by a person who prays. You create the atmosphere not around you but within you. I am a congregant and I know from personal experience how different the situation is when the rabbi is concerned with prayer instead of with how many people attend the service; the difference in a service in which the rabbi comes prepared to respond to thirty centuries of Jewish experience and one in which he comes to review the book of the month or the news of the day.

The rabbis own engagement in prayer is most obvious in the physical, at times ecstatic, worship that is part of most services. They are bodily and emotionally involved with the liturgy: the rabbis close their eyes often, they clap, they move to the music while pounding out the beat on the bimah with their fists, and at times they lift their arms in a Hasidic gesture of simultaneously raising the level of excitement and transporting the congregation to a higher level.