PLEASE don't ask me why I signed up for a series of retreats on Jewish spirituality. In a moment of true weakness, I decided it would be a good idea to go to something called the Davvenin' Leadership Training Institute, aka DLTI. The first of four week-long sessions starts later this month.
But let's be real. Can you see me spending a week meditating, dancing, drumming, and being touchy-feely with 60 strangers in the backwoods of Connecticut? These people have silent breakfasts, for goodness sakes! News flash -- the 60's ended a long time ago. And I was pretty awkward back then too.
Why would I do such a thing? Well... in my defense, it sounded like a good idea at the time. It still sounds like a good idea -- a big part of my job in leading synagogue services is helping my congregants have a spiritual experience, so learning how to do that is a good thing. Right? And I enjoy a nice spiritual high as much as the next person.
Plus, I already owned the first book they require, Lawrence Hoffman's "The Art of Public Prayer." Hoffman rarely strays into the spiritual realm -- he's more prone to say things like: "When a spatial arrangement with which we are familiar serves as a model for another space that is new to us, the model environment is called a cultural analogue." (pg 233, and I promise, all I did was open the book at random; there was no need to hunt for this quote).
But then the next book came along, Rabbi Marcia Prager's "The Path of Blessing." Marcia Prager doesn't fool around with technical language. She's all about the juicy stuff, such as: "When I greet you with 'shalom' I am not merely saying 'hello' or 'goodbye.' I am offering you my hope and desire that you should experience the bliss of wholeness, fulfillment, completeness, and perfection, that you should know true inner peace." (page 73, and no, I didn't have to hunt for that either).
And here's the worst part -- Marcia Prager is one of the people who created this retreat in the first place, and she'll be there. I'm a little terrified of meeting her because she might think that I'm a shallow, semi-sarcastic impostor who has no business trying to be a spiritual leader, much less a rabbi.
The other founder of DLTI is Rabbi Shawn Zevit. He's the reason that I'm not truly petrified about this. Shawn is deeply spiritual and pretty touchy-feely, but not in a way that creeps me out -- in fact, I like him and admire his style as a service-leader. The man knows how to pray, that's for sure. I figure if I'm already comfortable with him, maybe I'll be comfortable with the whole thing. Either way, I'm sure to learn something about myself.
There's no going back now. It's paid for, I have my airline ticket, and I'm just going to have to suck it up and learn to let go a little. As long as they don't try to make me let go a lot, it should be OK.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Why pray if you don't believe in God?
Ah, one of my favorite existential questions.
I'm reading a terrific book (well, I think it'll be terrific -- I'm only on page 9) called "Making Prayer Real" by Rabbi Mike Comins, who asks why prayer is difficult and what to do about it. Since I'm only nine pages in, I haven't reached his prescription for change. So I thought I'd chime in with my own thoughts about prayer before learning his.
The question "Why pray?" is really a bunch of questions wrapped up in one. There's "Why pray to a God who doesn't exist?" and the "Why ask God for stuff if we know he's not gonna give it to us?" questions. Then there's the ever popular "Why does God need us to tell him how great he is?" And of course the saddest one, "Why pray to a God who lets bad things happen to good people, like the Holocaust or cancer?"
A couple of years ago, I asked a group of Jewish high schoolers the question in its most generic form(simply, "why pray?) knowing that there were two confirmed atheists in the room. One of them said immediately, "Of course people should pray." I was a little taken aback; after all, for months Justin had taken every possible opportunity to make it clear that he does not believe in God.
So I asked him why we should pray, and this 15-year-old non-believer said, "We don't pray because God needs it. We pray because we need it."
Couldn't have said it better myself.
I'm reading a terrific book (well, I think it'll be terrific -- I'm only on page 9) called "Making Prayer Real" by Rabbi Mike Comins, who asks why prayer is difficult and what to do about it. Since I'm only nine pages in, I haven't reached his prescription for change. So I thought I'd chime in with my own thoughts about prayer before learning his.
The question "Why pray?" is really a bunch of questions wrapped up in one. There's "Why pray to a God who doesn't exist?" and the "Why ask God for stuff if we know he's not gonna give it to us?" questions. Then there's the ever popular "Why does God need us to tell him how great he is?" And of course the saddest one, "Why pray to a God who lets bad things happen to good people, like the Holocaust or cancer?"
A couple of years ago, I asked a group of Jewish high schoolers the question in its most generic form(simply, "why pray?) knowing that there were two confirmed atheists in the room. One of them said immediately, "Of course people should pray." I was a little taken aback; after all, for months Justin had taken every possible opportunity to make it clear that he does not believe in God.
So I asked him why we should pray, and this 15-year-old non-believer said, "We don't pray because God needs it. We pray because we need it."
Couldn't have said it better myself.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Answers to the Question of Life, the Universe & Everything
What's the answer to THE question about life, the universe and everything? 42, of course. What's the exact question? Ahh, that's another story entirely.
If this makes no sense to you, you are clearly not a Douglas Adams fan and should get yourself to a library asap for a copy of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy... especially since Adams' thoughts on God and religion are hilarious.
Enough of that. It's time to get down to the business of answering your questions. My thanks to all who e-mailed, texted and commented.
Two questions came up repeatedly: Do I really not believe in God, and do the people in the minyan (who pray in Hebrew at light speed) know what they're saying?
1. Re: that God fellow. Nope, don't believe in him. Sorry to disappoint you. I kept this a secret for many years, believing that the Jewish world would consider me a pariah if they ever found out. And then, one glorious day, I began to read Mordecai Kaplan.
I felt as though someone had pulled a chair out from under me. I couldn't believe that someone understood me, agreed with me, and had said so in print. (I also wondered why the hell it had taken me so long to discover this.)
I went zooming into Rabbi Neil Gillman's office, my professor at the Jewish Theological Seminary, bursting with the news of my epiphany. He calmly went on flipping through the papers on his desk and told me that at least one student per semester tells him the same thing. Kind of took the wind out of my sails, but on the other hand, at least I knew that Kaplan and I weren't alone.
The problem with Kaplan is that he wasn't a very good writer. And I haven't figured out how to put it in words either. Thankfully, Rabbi Harold Kushner did it for me. He wrote: "To believe that God is real means believing that the qualities we associate with God are real, that they truly exist in the world."
That I can agree with. When Kaplan writes "God is whatever gives meaning to this world," that God is a God I can believe in.
2. Do the speed davveners know what they're saying? Apparently, many of them do. At least, they say they do. My uncle Geo told me I should open a prayer book at random and make them translate a passage, and the Shema is off limits.
I didn't do that, but I did ask around. A couple of the older guys grew up as yeshiva students and learned prayerbook and biblical Hebrew as kids (but both said that they don't do well in Israel where everyone is speaking modern Hebrew). Others told me that they studied the prayers on their own, and might not be able to translate for me but could give me a general idea of what each prayer is about. No one copped to pure ignorance.
Here's my question back to the questioners -- does it matter? Is the exact meaning of the words important? The people praying have a pretty good idea of what the prayers mean, and what their function is. They know they're not saying "goo-goo ga-ga" and they're not swearing (unlike some people with tattoos in Chinese, who only think they know what it says).
If the pray-ers achieve some kind of prayerful state, whether that means they're meditating, or communing with a higher power or just clearing their mind, is it OK to not understand the exact meaning of the words? Does it matter if a person meditates on the sound of "om" or the sound of "shema?" What about monks who chant the same Latin phrase over and over? What about singing "la la la" instead of real words?
I am certain that there are lots of rational arguments for understanding the words you're saying when you pray. But I also think that there may be good arguments for not worrying about being able to translate Hebrew prayer into English -- and sometimes, not wanting to.
This reminds me of the story my cousin Debbie told me about losing her cat and how the Zohar helped her find it. But I'll save it for another time.
For now, it's after 6pm on a Friday evening, and that means it's time for me to turn off my computer until tomorrow evening, and enjoy the Sabbath.
Shabbat shalom!
If this makes no sense to you, you are clearly not a Douglas Adams fan and should get yourself to a library asap for a copy of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy... especially since Adams' thoughts on God and religion are hilarious.
Enough of that. It's time to get down to the business of answering your questions. My thanks to all who e-mailed, texted and commented.
Two questions came up repeatedly: Do I really not believe in God, and do the people in the minyan (who pray in Hebrew at light speed) know what they're saying?
1. Re: that God fellow. Nope, don't believe in him. Sorry to disappoint you. I kept this a secret for many years, believing that the Jewish world would consider me a pariah if they ever found out. And then, one glorious day, I began to read Mordecai Kaplan.
I felt as though someone had pulled a chair out from under me. I couldn't believe that someone understood me, agreed with me, and had said so in print. (I also wondered why the hell it had taken me so long to discover this.)
I went zooming into Rabbi Neil Gillman's office, my professor at the Jewish Theological Seminary, bursting with the news of my epiphany. He calmly went on flipping through the papers on his desk and told me that at least one student per semester tells him the same thing. Kind of took the wind out of my sails, but on the other hand, at least I knew that Kaplan and I weren't alone.
The problem with Kaplan is that he wasn't a very good writer. And I haven't figured out how to put it in words either. Thankfully, Rabbi Harold Kushner did it for me. He wrote: "To believe that God is real means believing that the qualities we associate with God are real, that they truly exist in the world."
That I can agree with. When Kaplan writes "God is whatever gives meaning to this world," that God is a God I can believe in.
2. Do the speed davveners know what they're saying? Apparently, many of them do. At least, they say they do. My uncle Geo told me I should open a prayer book at random and make them translate a passage, and the Shema is off limits.
I didn't do that, but I did ask around. A couple of the older guys grew up as yeshiva students and learned prayerbook and biblical Hebrew as kids (but both said that they don't do well in Israel where everyone is speaking modern Hebrew). Others told me that they studied the prayers on their own, and might not be able to translate for me but could give me a general idea of what each prayer is about. No one copped to pure ignorance.
Here's my question back to the questioners -- does it matter? Is the exact meaning of the words important? The people praying have a pretty good idea of what the prayers mean, and what their function is. They know they're not saying "goo-goo ga-ga" and they're not swearing (unlike some people with tattoos in Chinese, who only think they know what it says).
If the pray-ers achieve some kind of prayerful state, whether that means they're meditating, or communing with a higher power or just clearing their mind, is it OK to not understand the exact meaning of the words? Does it matter if a person meditates on the sound of "om" or the sound of "shema?" What about monks who chant the same Latin phrase over and over? What about singing "la la la" instead of real words?
I am certain that there are lots of rational arguments for understanding the words you're saying when you pray. But I also think that there may be good arguments for not worrying about being able to translate Hebrew prayer into English -- and sometimes, not wanting to.
This reminds me of the story my cousin Debbie told me about losing her cat and how the Zohar helped her find it. But I'll save it for another time.
For now, it's after 6pm on a Friday evening, and that means it's time for me to turn off my computer until tomorrow evening, and enjoy the Sabbath.
Shabbat shalom!
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