Prayer, leadership, and music.

.תפילה, מנהיגות, ומוזיקה

Yesterday morning, Jessica and I attended Reconstructionist services held in the student lounge of HUC. During the services, I had one of those periodic waves of anticipation and excitement about being a rabbi some day, and I was actively engaged in thinking about prayer and leadership. Add to that the several conversations I've had with Jessica and HUC colleagues about our Rosh Hashanah services here--and Jewish prayer services in general--and it turns out I've been thinking about this topic a lot. So, here are some of my thoughts (many of which are inspired and tempered by others).

Let's start with the Reconstructionist service. The leadership style of the service was fairly laissez-faire, with the leader announcing page numbers, starting a song, and then getting quiet. In some communities, that leadership style can be quite effective. I understand that a number of Reconstructionist congregations are comprised largely of Jews who want to take an active role in prayer and therefore, a strong central leader would detract from their prayer experience. This results in a more organic, ground-up form of prayer service.

Now, in the environment that we had yesterday, I didn't find this leadership style particularly conducive to my own prayer. We weren't in a "Reconstructionist community" as such but rather a somewhat hodgepodge collection of Jews, at least some of whom were quite new to Reconstructionism. This resulted in not only a quiet leader but also a quite congregation. The service was slow, perhaps contemplative, and though it may have been beautiful and meaningful for some or most of the participants, it wasn't for me.

Now, this presents a troubling question: Am I dependent on someone else to facilitate my prayer experience? That is, how much should I be able to pray in any circumstance? The goal of my liturgy teacher is to familiarize us enough with Jewish prayer that we will be able to pray in any Jewish environment, and I would love that. One of my goals for the year is to be able to better understand, and indeed be better at, prayer. The more Hebrew I learn, the more meaningful Jewish prayer becomes to me. Also helpful are learning more about the structure, history, and composition of Jewish prayer as well as the context within which a particular prayer service is conducted. I hope that sooner than later, I'll be able to find myself able to pray in any setting.

But I know that it's rare for a person to be able to pray anywhere (and I know it will require a lot of work on my part). For most people, the community and the service leader are integral parts of the prayer experience, and that will always be true for me as well. Being able to pray on my own, after all, is only a part of the picture: Jewish prayer is also communal, and without connecting to my prayer community, my prayer will be incomplete. (This, by the way, is why it will be difficult for me to pray fully in an orthodox congregation - the segregation of men and women will, I believe, pose a significant barrier to my being able to fully connect to that prayer community.)

So, what should I, as a future professional prayer leader (possibly), be aware of in prayer leadership? Personally, I like a leader who exhibits confidence and control. Even though I can't sing well, if I'm singing first and loudly, I hope to be able to inspire intentional and meaningful singing from the congregation as well. Although I might be speaking a Hebrew that some congregants don't understand, I hope to read with sufficient conviction to convey the heart of the prayer even if the specific words are lost.

Because to me, understanding a prayer is crucial to its beauty. Some Hebrew songs are just beautiful, period, regardless of their meaning. But, I've found that the more I know about what I'm saying, the more meaningful my prayer experience. (Duh.) So, I feel it will be important to convey meaning and not just words during prayer. If that requires English or explanations or whatever, I hope to be able to find it.

And then there's the question of music. For me, I don't have to say every word to feel prayerful. I can listen to a song like Avinu Malkeinu and not say a word and have it be meaningful. (I think I wrote about that here earlier.) Even more "everyday" songs can inspire me if I don't sing along. I am in the process of exploring the relationship between my self and my prayer community, and I believe that my own prayers can be uttered by others and vice versa. By saying amen, I am affirming my place in the Jewish community, and the tenet of Jewish prayer that at least ten people are required before a full service can take place further supports the idea that a community is necessary for an individual to pray.

Yet there are others who feel differently. I've heard from people who say that if they're not participating in the prayer, they're generally unable to have a prayerful experience. So for them, beautiful and intricate music is just that: music. Not prayer. And many people don't want to attend concerts in place of services.

Obviously, there's a compromise position of a cantor being able to switch between "cantorial" music and "congregational" music effectively. But the High Holy Days can be a problem because they're the Days of Awe. For many, perhaps the majority, "accessible" music is not what's expected or enjoyed during Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. So, do we wash our hands of the Jews who don't like that kind of music?

I was hearing about a congregation back in the States that's actively engaged in this question of being able to provide meaningful prayer experiences to all of its congregants. The congregation offers different kinds of services, but the trade off is a further separation of the community. And that brings us back to the original question: How important is the individual in Jewish prayer, which is by nature communal?

Take, for example, our dilemma at UVA Hillel. For my last couple years at school, we had significant difficulty getting a minyan at both Reform and Conservative prayer services. The question before us was: Do we focus on the individual needs of the different groups, or do we sacrifice particular desires in order to bring the community together as a whole. I think I would have handled the situation differently now, especially as an outsider to the community, but we had so much difficulty understanding the question that I don't think we ever came up with a really satisfying solution.

It's one thing to say what I find most conducive to a positive prayer experience: A strong leader, beautiful music, and meaningful words in a language I understand. The challenge lies in finding what's most conducive to a positive prayer experience for a community.

Tomorrow, I will co-lead the first of the weekly student-led prayer services at HUC, and I'm fairly nervous about our ability to have accurately gauged the needs of our prayer community. I'm sure that we'll get some things wrong, and I'm really looking forward to seeing how other prayer leaders interpret the needs of our community. Hopefully by the end of the year, I'll have a better idea of how to assess those needs because I think that's going to be a vital skill to my future.

Ultimately, I'm just grateful and excited that I don't have to be a rabbi yet. Five years is a long time, and we're only just beginning. Hearing my colleagues discuss prayer in such a serious way for the past week has given me a lot of optimism about the degree to which we're going to be able to delve seriously into this business of Jewish professional life once we graduate from HUC. Let's hope we don't disappoint!

Weekend on the Shore and at the Mountain of God.

.סוף שבוע בחוף ובהר אל

Yesterday, most of our class went to Tel Aviv for a fun day in the sun (and clouds, which are entirely absent from the Jerusalem sky). Although we only spent a half dozen hours there, our trip was enough to instill an appreciation for some of the differences between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. The area where we were in Tel Aviv (downtown/beach area) was much busier with a lot more shopping. There were significantly fewer "black hatters" around, and most of those that I saw were set up at "Tefillin Tables" helping people say their daily prayers. In describing the difference to a classmate, I phrased my feelings the following way:

In Jerusalem, one can feel the weight of an enormous pillow of orthodoxy resting over the city. Some people can easily stick a pole in the ground to lift the pillow off of them and live a secular life without a second thought. Many others, including us who want to live religiously but not observantly, find ourselves struggling against suffocation under the pillow. Now, the pillow in and of itself is very beautiful, but pillows should be restful, not oppressive. In Jerusalem, this pillow is more like a yoga mat - some people have it permanently set up in their lives, but most people don't encounter it in their day to day activity. And I'll tell you what - it's nice to escape from the anxiety rooted in the life of a Reform Jew in Jerusalem.

That's not to say that I like Tel Aviv more. Given the choice to live in Tel Aviv or Jerusalem, I'd definitely pick Jerusalem. Please let's not forget that I love Judaism, and I love the Jewish traditions that the Israeli right-wing represent. What I don't love is how they occasionally choose to represent and share those traditions in an exclusive manner. And I certainly don't love unbridled capitalism, congested streets, and sweltering heat. So, at least for now, I'm still a Jerusalemite at heart.

However, we did have an opportunity to experience one flavor of Progressive Judaism in Tel Aviv. Although they don't affiliate with the Reform movement, Kehillat Beit T'filah Yisraeli is a progressive congregation that offers spiritual expression and community to more or less secular residents of Tel Aviv. During the summer, the congregation holds its services along the shore, so our Friday night service took place amid crashing waves and setting sun.

At first, I was disappointed by the service. Since it was outside, it was impossible to hear the congregation singing anything together. Additionally, there were all sorts of distractions, from people walking to fishing to jet skiing. And, of course, the service was entirely in Hebrew. But, I did know some of the music (the rabbi is a student in the Israeli program at HUC, and the head of our cantorial program was helping with some of the singing), and as soon as we were singing "What a Wonderful World" in Hebrew translation, I was hooked. The instruments, the great voices of the leaders, and the sunset all started to win me over.

Then, when we rose for the Barchu, we faced the sea (which is quite obviously in the opposite direction of Jerusalem). The rabbi mentioned the custom to face the ים instead of ירושלים because it's beautiful and hey - at least they share some letters. I definitely appreciated saying the Barchu, Amidah, and Aleinu facing the setting sun (and did I mention that there are clouds in Tel Aviv??), and I really had an opportunity to feel some of the power of creation much more than I usually do when the walls of the synagogue stand between me and, theoretically, the Western Wall.

So, I definitely liked services last night, and I also appreciated the conversation some of us had back in Jerusalem about the "True Meaning of Prayer" (a conversation that I won't detail here; I'm sure the topics will arise again in the future of this blog).

In order to keep up with my resolve to sample many different Shabbat services, I (and eight classmates) attended services this morning at Kehillat Har-El (Trans: Mountain of God). Har-El was the first Israeli Progressive congregation, founded in 1958 and still strong today. Services were actually quite similar (albeit entirely in Hebrew) to what I'm used to in the States, and the Bar Mitzvah, too, reminded me of American celebrations. (There were many speeches by family, the Bar Mitzvah read from the Torah and gave a short d'var, we threw flowers after the conclusion of his haftarah reading, and there was a delicious kiddush lunch afterward.) One of the best parts about Har-El is that it's literally around the corner from my apartment building, so I definitely expect to return. Apparently, the Friday night service is the main service (again, just like in the States), so I'll have to go back and see how those are. (I actually wasn't too much of a fan of the Saturday morning service, though that could have been because of the Bar Mitzvah speeches that did drag on a bit.)

Altogether, my weekend/Shabbat has been pleasant, and I'm glad to have had today to rest up and get myself prepared for the week ahead. Tune in to see how it plays out!