Am I more obligated to the community or to myself? A perennial conundrum. The passage from Berakhot 8a Rabbi Rieser discussed in his last posting makes clear this is not a new issue: then tension between communal and individual worship has been around a good long time. If being part of the community and fulfilling my own individual needs coincide – then the tension dissipates. But often they do not.
(The problem is amply demonstrated by the difficulty in collecting a weekday minyan in many communities on a summer evening. Long, light, lovely summer evenings to dine in the backyard, go for a walk, and play Frisbee butt up against the call of community, and often the community loses out.)
As Rabbi Rieser explained, Resh Lakish elevates communal obligation above individual need (daf 8a) in response to R. Nachman’s assertion (bottom of daf 7b) that he cannot and will not go to a synagogue to pray.
R. Yochanan offers:
When they told R. Yochanan [who lives in Eretz Yisrael] that there were old men in Babylon, he showed astonishment and said: Why, it is written: That your days may be multiplied, and the days of your children, upon the land (Deuteronomy 11:21); but not outside the land [of Israel]! When they told him that [these old men] came early to the Synagogue and left it late, he said: That is what helps them. Even as R. Joshua b. Levi said to his children: Come early to the Synagogue and leave it late that you may live long. R. Aha son of R. Chanina says: Which verse [supports this claim]? Happy is the man who hearkens to Me, watching daily at My gates, waiting at the posts of My doors (Proverbs 8:34), after which it is written: For whoever finds Me finds life (Proverbs 8:35).
R. Yochanan is astonished that anyone makes it past middle age in Babylonia given that Deuteronomy 11:21 stipulates upon the land, meaning in the Land of Israel. What can explain the remarkable longevity of these old men? They invest long hours in the synagogue. R. Yochanan produces two verses that are used to support the claim: My gates and My doors are taken to refer to the synagogue, the locus for where one finds Me (and hence) finds life.
Why is attendance at synagogue the secret to longevity, the magical mix of multivitamins, statins, and low-blood pressure medication that defies the implication the Rabbis deduce from Deuteronomy 11:21 that those who live outside Eretz Yisrael will never live to collect Social Security? Perhaps the Rabbis are telling us that life lived with and among others – in community – is good for our health: physically, emotionally, and spiritually. We need communities (networks, if you prefer) of loving, caring, supportive people. There is abundant research demonstrating that those who enjoy the blessing of a community experience less depression, fewer health problems, and enjoy longer life. Is this what gemara cares about? Absolutely! Torah is about the quality of life, not only the quality of our living.
Does it work for everyone? No, nothing works for everyone. There’s no one-size-fits-all formula for religious life any more than there is for bicycle helmets, pantyhose, or education. And we find on daf 8a Raba recounting a teaching of R. Chisda:
What is the meaning of the verse: The Lord loves the gates of Zion [Hebrew: Tziyyon] more than all the dwellings of Jacob (Psalm 87:2)? The Lord loves the gates that are distinguished [me-zuyanim] through halakhah more than the synagogues and houses of study [the term here is batei-midrash and refers not the great academies of Babylonia and Eretz Yisrael, but rather to places of popular, aggadic learning that did not indulge in the study of halakhah]. This conforms with the following saying of R. Chiyya b. Ammi in the name of Ulla: Since the day that the Temple was destroyed, the Holy One blessed be God has nothing in this world but the four cubits of halakhah alone. So also said Abaye: At first I used to study in my house and pray in the synagogue. Since I heard the saying of R. Chiyya b. Ammi in the name of Ulla -- “Since the day that the Temple was destroyed, the Holy One blessed be God has nothing in this world but the four cubits of halakhah alone” -- I pray only in the place where I study. R. Ammi and R. Assi, though there were thirteen synagogues in Tiberias, prayed only between the pillars [i.e. in the House of Study] where they used to study.
R. Chisda claims that the trauma of the Destruction of the Temple exiled not only Israel, but also the Shechinah (God’s Divine Presence in the world). God is felt, experienced, welcomed into our world only through the narrow confines of halakhah, the process of discerning God’s will through study and practice that so engaged the Rabbis and kept Israel a community through common observance. Perhaps R. Chisda is also suggesting that prayer following the Destruction lacks kavannah (sincerity and intention) and hence God cannot enter our lives and experience through prayer.
But here’s the punchline: Abaye, who changes his ways on the basis of R. Chisda’s teaching, thinks he is turning his back on the synagogue community in favor of halakhah. But look what he does! He spends long days studying with his colleagues and prays with them thrice daily in the House of Study. He has become exactly like the “old men” who come early to shul and stay late; he has just relocated to another shul: the Bet Midrash (House of Study). He is still in the embrace of community; he has simply relocated to another community.
And here’s one last thought: you might not feel that synagogue provides the best and most spiritual venue for prayer for you on each occasion. We all feel that at times. It can be very tough. But consider the possibility that your presence benefits others. You have much to contribute to the community by being there.
Hinei ma tov u’mah na’im shevet achim gam yachad / Behold how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together (Psalm 133:1).
(c) 2009 by Rabbi Amy Scheinerman
Showing posts with label attending synagogue. Show all posts
Showing posts with label attending synagogue. Show all posts
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Why Go to Shul? Why Stay There? (Berakhot 5b-6a)
What is the magic to enticing people to come to synagogue? Is it entertaining worship? Fabulous music? Gourmet food? Intellectually stimulating drashot? In all these questions, two elements are strikingly missing: God and the community.
The Rabbis faced the same issue from this angle: what in fact does it mean to be in shul? We find an answer in the Bavli (masechet Berakhot 5b-6a) that is strikingly different from discussions overheard in savvy Jewish circles these days.
Abba Binyamin begins with the simplest case scenario: two Jews enter a synagogue to pray and one finishes before the other. What happens?
It has been taught: Abba Binyamin says, When two people enter [a synagogue] to pray, and one of them finishes his prayer first and does not wait for the other but leaves, his prayer is torn up before his face. For it is written: You who tear yourself to pieces in anger, will earth’s order be disrupted for your sake? (Job 18:4)
Abba Binyamin asserts that the prayers of the person who left before his companion was finished praying are “torn up,” that is rejected by God. The proof text verse from Job comes from the mouth of Bildad the Shuhite. Bildad responds caustically to Job’s physical pain and spiritual anxiety. He has run out of patience and displaces his anger onto Job: “You who tear yourself to pieces in anger, will earth’s order be disrupted for your sake? Will rocks be dislodged from their place?” Bildad is sick and tired of trying to comfort Job, sick and tired of hearing his tale of travail, sick and tired of waiting for his friend to snap out of his funk.
So too the one who doesn’t wait for his fellow to finish praying. He came to say his prayers for his own sake without regard to the other human being in close proximity. He didn’t care that his presence meant something to the other person. He didn’t feel in any way responsible for the other person. He had no sense of responsibility or connection to the other person. And so Abba Binyamin continues:
And more than that, he causes the Divine Presence to remove itself from Israel. For it says, Will the rocks be dislodged from their place? (Job 18:4) And 'rock' is nothing other than the Holy One, blessed be God, as it says: You neglected the Rock that begot you, [forgot the God who brought you forth] (Deuteronomy 32:18).
This is powerful stuff with far-reaching implications: When we behave in this selfish its-all-about-me way, we erode any sense of community. Community is built when people consider not only the needs of others, but realize that they are assets in the lives of others. It matters to the second person that the first person stays to keep him company while he davens (prays). The Shechinah (the Divine Presence of God in this world) craves community and seeks community and abides in community. So the actions of the first person matter for not only the second person, but for the larger community.
But Abba Binyamin is saying even more. Note his use of Deuteronomy 32:18 (only the first half is quoted in the gemara, but I’ve given you the second half so the meaning and application of the verse will be clear). When you abandon your companion in shul, it’s like abandoning God. God cares about our relationships because God is party to our relationships. The divine spark in each of us participates in the relationships we develop with one another, which is why they can become so meaningful and important. If abandoning your friend in shul is like abandoning God, then nurturing your friendships also nurtures God.
People come to synagogue for a variety of reasons and from a Jewish perspective there are many legitimate reasons: for spiritual nourishment, for social needs, for intellectual stimulation, for good food, and for a sense of community. There’s an old joke that my chevruta partner told in his most recent posting. Here's another version: Schwartz and Cohen are leaving the synagogue midday on Shabbat afternoon. Shapiro encounters them and says, “Hey, Schwartz, what are you doing here? You told me last week you don’t believe in God. Did you come this morning to talk to God?” Schwartz replies, “Cohen came to talk to God. I came to talk to Cohen.” But notice this: Schwartz was there. He showed up. And he made a difference to Cohen, and apparently to Shapiro, as well.
Abba Binyamin does not merely tell us the downside. He explains the upside to creating community – even between two individuals:
And if he does wait, what is his reward? R. Yosi b. R. Chanina says: He is rewarded with the blessings enumerated in the following verse: If only you would heed My commands! Then your peace would be like a river, your righteousness like the waves of the sea. Your offspring would be as many as the sand, their issue as many as its grains. [Their name would never be cut off or obliterated from before Me.] (Isaiah 48: 18, 19).
Abba Binyamin again uses a proof text that is pregnant with meaning. The simple act of waiting for another has redemptive potential. I’ve included the end of verse 19 (not included in the gemara) because I think it’s crucial. Our Rabbis presumed we would know it. Their name would never be cut off or obliterated from before Me. When we wait for our companion, when we nurture our relationships and create community, we strengthen our connection to God.
(c) 2009 by Rabbi Amy Scheinerman
The Rabbis faced the same issue from this angle: what in fact does it mean to be in shul? We find an answer in the Bavli (masechet Berakhot 5b-6a) that is strikingly different from discussions overheard in savvy Jewish circles these days.
Abba Binyamin begins with the simplest case scenario: two Jews enter a synagogue to pray and one finishes before the other. What happens?
It has been taught: Abba Binyamin says, When two people enter [a synagogue] to pray, and one of them finishes his prayer first and does not wait for the other but leaves, his prayer is torn up before his face. For it is written: You who tear yourself to pieces in anger, will earth’s order be disrupted for your sake? (Job 18:4)
Abba Binyamin asserts that the prayers of the person who left before his companion was finished praying are “torn up,” that is rejected by God. The proof text verse from Job comes from the mouth of Bildad the Shuhite. Bildad responds caustically to Job’s physical pain and spiritual anxiety. He has run out of patience and displaces his anger onto Job: “You who tear yourself to pieces in anger, will earth’s order be disrupted for your sake? Will rocks be dislodged from their place?” Bildad is sick and tired of trying to comfort Job, sick and tired of hearing his tale of travail, sick and tired of waiting for his friend to snap out of his funk.
So too the one who doesn’t wait for his fellow to finish praying. He came to say his prayers for his own sake without regard to the other human being in close proximity. He didn’t care that his presence meant something to the other person. He didn’t feel in any way responsible for the other person. He had no sense of responsibility or connection to the other person. And so Abba Binyamin continues:
And more than that, he causes the Divine Presence to remove itself from Israel. For it says, Will the rocks be dislodged from their place? (Job 18:4) And 'rock' is nothing other than the Holy One, blessed be God, as it says: You neglected the Rock that begot you, [forgot the God who brought you forth] (Deuteronomy 32:18).
This is powerful stuff with far-reaching implications: When we behave in this selfish its-all-about-me way, we erode any sense of community. Community is built when people consider not only the needs of others, but realize that they are assets in the lives of others. It matters to the second person that the first person stays to keep him company while he davens (prays). The Shechinah (the Divine Presence of God in this world) craves community and seeks community and abides in community. So the actions of the first person matter for not only the second person, but for the larger community.
But Abba Binyamin is saying even more. Note his use of Deuteronomy 32:18 (only the first half is quoted in the gemara, but I’ve given you the second half so the meaning and application of the verse will be clear). When you abandon your companion in shul, it’s like abandoning God. God cares about our relationships because God is party to our relationships. The divine spark in each of us participates in the relationships we develop with one another, which is why they can become so meaningful and important. If abandoning your friend in shul is like abandoning God, then nurturing your friendships also nurtures God.
People come to synagogue for a variety of reasons and from a Jewish perspective there are many legitimate reasons: for spiritual nourishment, for social needs, for intellectual stimulation, for good food, and for a sense of community. There’s an old joke that my chevruta partner told in his most recent posting. Here's another version: Schwartz and Cohen are leaving the synagogue midday on Shabbat afternoon. Shapiro encounters them and says, “Hey, Schwartz, what are you doing here? You told me last week you don’t believe in God. Did you come this morning to talk to God?” Schwartz replies, “Cohen came to talk to God. I came to talk to Cohen.” But notice this: Schwartz was there. He showed up. And he made a difference to Cohen, and apparently to Shapiro, as well.
Abba Binyamin does not merely tell us the downside. He explains the upside to creating community – even between two individuals:
And if he does wait, what is his reward? R. Yosi b. R. Chanina says: He is rewarded with the blessings enumerated in the following verse: If only you would heed My commands! Then your peace would be like a river, your righteousness like the waves of the sea. Your offspring would be as many as the sand, their issue as many as its grains. [Their name would never be cut off or obliterated from before Me.] (Isaiah 48: 18, 19).
Abba Binyamin again uses a proof text that is pregnant with meaning. The simple act of waiting for another has redemptive potential. I’ve included the end of verse 19 (not included in the gemara) because I think it’s crucial. Our Rabbis presumed we would know it. Their name would never be cut off or obliterated from before Me. When we wait for our companion, when we nurture our relationships and create community, we strengthen our connection to God.
(c) 2009 by Rabbi Amy Scheinerman
GET THEE TO A SHUL (Berachot 8a)
There is an old joke about Jake, the socialist freethinker who rails against religion and the rabbinic establishment, but who is caught by his nephew attending Shabbat services. "Why," his nephew asks, "would you possibly be caught dead in that place after all the bad things you have told me about religion?" Jake explains to his nephew that his good friend Moshe the butcher, works hard all week long so they seldom have a chance to visit. Moshe is a very religious man and never misses a chance to go to shul to talk with God. "I go to shul," Jake explains, "to talk with Moshe."
There are lots of reasons why people attend shul; some more compelling than others. Not surprisingly the Talmud discusses communal prayer, going to the synagogue, early on; after all, there is no shul in the TaNAKH. Nowhere in Torah does one find a direct command to pray three times a day, or in a collective manner; the focus is entirely on the korbanot, the offerings brought to the Temple. The sages found allusions to the daily prayers in the actions of the patriarchs, but, honestly, they are forced readings -- clever, but not convincing.
While it might seem too stereotypic for a pulpit rabbi to discuss why one should go to shul, the comments offered in the Talmud lead to some surprising insights that make the discussion worth considering, even given the source.
In tractate Berachot, Blessings, one finds a rich collection of teachings about the value and the rationale for communal prayer. The most surprising to me is found at Berachot 8a:
Says the Holy Blessing One, Whoever busies themselves with Torah, acts of kindness, and prays with the community, I will consider it as if he redeemed Me and My children from among the nations of the world.
Over many years I have heard lots of reasons for attending services, and many more explanations of why people stay away. Jews, it seems, are very eager to tell rabbis of their complaints about synagogues and the multiple ways they may not meet their current needs. I do not ever recall, however, being told that I needed to go to shul to help redeem God. No one ever came up to me after services to ask, “Rabbi, do you think we really helped God get by today?” Yet this teaching suggests that we need to attend communal prayer for God’s sake more than for our own.
It seems so incongruous. We are frail and in need of support. God, we are taught, is all-powerful. We can be easily confused, not knowing which way to turn; while God is all-knowing. We need help to know how to get by, God wrote the owner’s manual. Unless, of course, we don’t fully understand who God is. Perhaps our partnership with God is more involved than we think.
Rabbi Bradley Shavitt Artson is teaching about Process Theology these days; you can find his series of podcasts on the topic at (http://web.me.com/aaaron12/Aaron_Alexander/Process_Theology_/Process_Theology_.html) In one of his talks Artson suggests that God, who is invisible and without a body, is actually embodied in us -- we are God’s hands and feet, so to speak. Our actions can carry forward God’s actions in the world, even to the point of redemption. There it is; our actions redeem God and the world.
Look back at the short list included in our teaching and consider those particular actions through this lens. If we are God’s hands and feet in this world, then we need to learn something of God’s intentions by occupying ourselves with Torah. We certainly enact God’s kindness when we extend that kindness to others through acts of Gimelut Hasadim, acts which move us toward brotherhood and peace according to Rashi’s definition on this same page. And finally prayer. Perhaps it is that daily or weekly moment wherein we present ourselves for a regular check-in, reporting to ourselves and to the Holy Blessing One on our progress toward our common redemption.
I don’t yet know if this new understanding will change the way I enter the synagogue or stand for prayer. But perhaps Moshe and Jake were both right. We need to be in shul for ourselves and for God.
(c) 2009 by Rabbi Louis Rieser
There are lots of reasons why people attend shul; some more compelling than others. Not surprisingly the Talmud discusses communal prayer, going to the synagogue, early on; after all, there is no shul in the TaNAKH. Nowhere in Torah does one find a direct command to pray three times a day, or in a collective manner; the focus is entirely on the korbanot, the offerings brought to the Temple. The sages found allusions to the daily prayers in the actions of the patriarchs, but, honestly, they are forced readings -- clever, but not convincing.
While it might seem too stereotypic for a pulpit rabbi to discuss why one should go to shul, the comments offered in the Talmud lead to some surprising insights that make the discussion worth considering, even given the source.
In tractate Berachot, Blessings, one finds a rich collection of teachings about the value and the rationale for communal prayer. The most surprising to me is found at Berachot 8a:
Says the Holy Blessing One, Whoever busies themselves with Torah, acts of kindness, and prays with the community, I will consider it as if he redeemed Me and My children from among the nations of the world.
Over many years I have heard lots of reasons for attending services, and many more explanations of why people stay away. Jews, it seems, are very eager to tell rabbis of their complaints about synagogues and the multiple ways they may not meet their current needs. I do not ever recall, however, being told that I needed to go to shul to help redeem God. No one ever came up to me after services to ask, “Rabbi, do you think we really helped God get by today?” Yet this teaching suggests that we need to attend communal prayer for God’s sake more than for our own.
It seems so incongruous. We are frail and in need of support. God, we are taught, is all-powerful. We can be easily confused, not knowing which way to turn; while God is all-knowing. We need help to know how to get by, God wrote the owner’s manual. Unless, of course, we don’t fully understand who God is. Perhaps our partnership with God is more involved than we think.
Rabbi Bradley Shavitt Artson is teaching about Process Theology these days; you can find his series of podcasts on the topic at (http://web.me.com/aaaron12/Aaron_Alexander/Process_Theology_/Process_Theology_.html) In one of his talks Artson suggests that God, who is invisible and without a body, is actually embodied in us -- we are God’s hands and feet, so to speak. Our actions can carry forward God’s actions in the world, even to the point of redemption. There it is; our actions redeem God and the world.
Look back at the short list included in our teaching and consider those particular actions through this lens. If we are God’s hands and feet in this world, then we need to learn something of God’s intentions by occupying ourselves with Torah. We certainly enact God’s kindness when we extend that kindness to others through acts of Gimelut Hasadim, acts which move us toward brotherhood and peace according to Rashi’s definition on this same page. And finally prayer. Perhaps it is that daily or weekly moment wherein we present ourselves for a regular check-in, reporting to ourselves and to the Holy Blessing One on our progress toward our common redemption.
I don’t yet know if this new understanding will change the way I enter the synagogue or stand for prayer. But perhaps Moshe and Jake were both right. We need to be in shul for ourselves and for God.
(c) 2009 by Rabbi Louis Rieser
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