Some thoughts on prayer
It is no secret that I’m not such a huge fan of services. I freely admit it; it's something I work on. Today’s service at school, however, blew me away.
During the Torah service, the first reader came up to the bima, and then the second. The third reader, a cantorial student in his 30s, looked very nervous, and as he finished chanting the portion, a few people called out “yasher koach!” ("good job," basically). I was a little confused – what was so special about this third reader, named Lev, that he would get a yasher koach and no one else?
After the voices died down, Mary, the cantor who was leading, explained. Today was the first time Lev had ever publicly read Torah, and so it was, in effect, his Bar Mitzvah. Mary then gave a small “Bar Mitzvah speech" talking about all of Lev’s accomplishments this year, and how proud we all were of him. She said the traditional blessing over the Bar Mitzvah that’s found in our prayerbook… and then she reached underneath the bima, took out a wrapped package, and presented him with a Bar Mitzvah kiddish cup from this year's cantorial class. (which I realize is probably only funny if you're Jewish, because that's the stereotypical gift given to a 13 year-old from a temple Board). Everyone in the sanctuary broke into the traditional song, “Siman tov v’mazel tov,” and we cheered and clapped. Lev was literally shaking, he was so moved. I had tears in my eyes, and I wasn't the only one, by far. It was the first time our community had come together in such a way (I felt), and I was truly impressed with the caliber and warmth of my classmates. Mary, Lev, and the whole congregation were so genuine and honest in their emotion, it was very touching. It was a glimpse into the kind of clergy we will become.
Immediately following the Torah reading is the d’var Torah, or sermon. This week's Torah portion is the poetry section where Moses and the Israelites sing after crossing the Red Sea, where God is praised as “ish ha-milchama,” the man of war. Jessica gave her d'var Torah on the nature of peace and war – are Jews a peaceful people, or a warring one? Is God vengeful or just? A seeker of peace or one who necessitates death? She explored the many facets of God as seen through Torah and rabbinic commentary. In the end she came to the conclusion that just as Shrek says to Donkey, “people are onions” and have many layers, how much more so must have God – only that instead of seeing one layer at a time in people, we see them all at once in God. I kept thinking of Whitman’s “Do I contradict myself?/ Very well then, I contradict myself;/ (I am large – I contain multitudes.)” [From Leaves of Grass, which is just as potent now as when it was published in 1900. Online version found here]. Jessica’s blog is now linked to ours, so hopefully she’ll post it soon. Go read it for a wonderful theological take on the qualities of the Divine.
Much later today, in my last class, someone else said something which struck me. This classmate commented that she feels less alone when she prays, because often the words in the book mirror her thoughts. She said that she feels that she is a part of an everlasting community because her thoughts had been thought by someone else over a thousand years ago. This had never occurred to me in such a fashion – not only is prayer a hearkening back to community, but it means that yes, we may be a speck in the universe, but we are not a speck ALONE in the universe. Other specks in other ages have had the same thoughts, feelings, and diatribes that we have, and by speaking the same words of prayer for countless generations, we specks become linked in a chain. L’dor v’dor literally means “from generation to generation,” but this was the first time in Israel that I've felt wholly part of that chain; not just as a future rabbi, not just as a Jew, but as a person, universally, who has loves, hates, fears, and dreams in a manner remarkably similar to everyone else in this world, in every time and place. Prayer is not just repeating by rote, but is a strand into our collective past, and a direct link to the hearts of our ancestors.
It may sound corny, but this whole day has felt like a moment of learning, of connection, and even of Torah.
During the Torah service, the first reader came up to the bima, and then the second. The third reader, a cantorial student in his 30s, looked very nervous, and as he finished chanting the portion, a few people called out “yasher koach!” ("good job," basically). I was a little confused – what was so special about this third reader, named Lev, that he would get a yasher koach and no one else?
After the voices died down, Mary, the cantor who was leading, explained. Today was the first time Lev had ever publicly read Torah, and so it was, in effect, his Bar Mitzvah. Mary then gave a small “Bar Mitzvah speech" talking about all of Lev’s accomplishments this year, and how proud we all were of him. She said the traditional blessing over the Bar Mitzvah that’s found in our prayerbook… and then she reached underneath the bima, took out a wrapped package, and presented him with a Bar Mitzvah kiddish cup from this year's cantorial class. (which I realize is probably only funny if you're Jewish, because that's the stereotypical gift given to a 13 year-old from a temple Board). Everyone in the sanctuary broke into the traditional song, “Siman tov v’mazel tov,” and we cheered and clapped. Lev was literally shaking, he was so moved. I had tears in my eyes, and I wasn't the only one, by far. It was the first time our community had come together in such a way (I felt), and I was truly impressed with the caliber and warmth of my classmates. Mary, Lev, and the whole congregation were so genuine and honest in their emotion, it was very touching. It was a glimpse into the kind of clergy we will become.
Immediately following the Torah reading is the d’var Torah, or sermon. This week's Torah portion is the poetry section where Moses and the Israelites sing after crossing the Red Sea, where God is praised as “ish ha-milchama,” the man of war. Jessica gave her d'var Torah on the nature of peace and war – are Jews a peaceful people, or a warring one? Is God vengeful or just? A seeker of peace or one who necessitates death? She explored the many facets of God as seen through Torah and rabbinic commentary. In the end she came to the conclusion that just as Shrek says to Donkey, “people are onions” and have many layers, how much more so must have God – only that instead of seeing one layer at a time in people, we see them all at once in God. I kept thinking of Whitman’s “Do I contradict myself?/ Very well then, I contradict myself;/ (I am large – I contain multitudes.)” [From Leaves of Grass, which is just as potent now as when it was published in 1900. Online version found here]. Jessica’s blog is now linked to ours, so hopefully she’ll post it soon. Go read it for a wonderful theological take on the qualities of the Divine.
Much later today, in my last class, someone else said something which struck me. This classmate commented that she feels less alone when she prays, because often the words in the book mirror her thoughts. She said that she feels that she is a part of an everlasting community because her thoughts had been thought by someone else over a thousand years ago. This had never occurred to me in such a fashion – not only is prayer a hearkening back to community, but it means that yes, we may be a speck in the universe, but we are not a speck ALONE in the universe. Other specks in other ages have had the same thoughts, feelings, and diatribes that we have, and by speaking the same words of prayer for countless generations, we specks become linked in a chain. L’dor v’dor literally means “from generation to generation,” but this was the first time in Israel that I've felt wholly part of that chain; not just as a future rabbi, not just as a Jew, but as a person, universally, who has loves, hates, fears, and dreams in a manner remarkably similar to everyone else in this world, in every time and place. Prayer is not just repeating by rote, but is a strand into our collective past, and a direct link to the hearts of our ancestors.
It may sound corny, but this whole day has felt like a moment of learning, of connection, and even of Torah.
posted by Michal at 9:25 AM
2 Comments:
you are going to be such a great rabbi!!!
aww, thank you!!
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