I have always derived great pleasure from personal prayer during worship services. Spirituality is core to my identity; the journey of our Shabbat and holiday liturgy is familiar to me and comforting to me. It is my time, which might sound selfish—and I had not realized just how dependent on that selfish time I had become, until recently when I became a Jewish professional.
Last year, in addition to my work with the Goldring/Woldenberg Institute of Southern Jewish Life, I accepted the position of Educator at my home synagogue in New Orleans. Along with this amazing dream of a job comes the awesome responsibility of teaching others how to involve themselves in worship. One way we do this is by teaching the liturgy in Hebrew classes and prayer services; another, for me, is by setting the example of being sincere in my own prayer.
The irony? Sincerity in my own prayer has never been an issue—until now, when I am on “display.”
Trying to strike a balance between teaching, leading, and praying is not an easy task! During the High Holidays last year, I was so very busy trying to keep up and catch up with all of my responsibilities that frankly I did not even attempt very much personal prayer. This year, by contrast, I was totally prepared, and had all of my projects for families and children set up in advance… in an effort to set the stage for my own prayer space once again.
I still wasn’t back to my usual spiritual self. Even with all of the preparation, the holiday experience was still just off-and-on successful. I feared a return to truly meaningful prayer while “on display” might be a lost cause for me, until a good friend and cantorial soloist pointed out something really simple and profound:
My personal prayer and spirituality can be every bit as sincere and meaningful as it once was, if I accept that it will never be the same as it once was.
My cantorial soloist friend taught me that now, my greatest spiritual moments were to be focused on enhancing the worship experience of the congregation. This is where she derives her Shabbat and High Holiday holiness, outside of herself. And this is where I am now learning to do the same thing. Part of this experience is not taking myself so seriously! I began to see the insanity in what I was trying to do, and it made me laugh at my own self, and simply relax and let it be.
With this new role, I also appreciate new elements of prayer. I still, and always will, value my private prayer moments, too. But when I see a kid have an “aha” moment connecting the dots in our liturgy, or lead a prayer with confidence, or an adult catches my eye during a sermon because he or she remembers that we discussed a similar point, or I notice someone following along in the Hebrew because I helped them learn how to do that, these will now be my personal worship experience focus!
What has been your journey as a lay person or a Jewish professional in personal prayer? How is it different as you have aged, grown or changed roles?
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It’s that time of year. The holidays are on my mind, and in my heart.
The sound of the Shofar for me is a primal calling, something that touches my soul as a beautiful and startling awakening. Each year I feel astonished that I have not even noticed my own drift into semi-conscious life until I hear that shofar and my mind, body and soul suddenly come together to shake me to my core.
How does it happen each year to slowly and imperceptibly drift into semi consciousness? I am so “busy” with life, that during the year a protective barrier forms somewhere between my soul and my mind and body to insulate me from this fully awakened state.
If the barrier was not there, could I live and be productive doing mundane tasks in everyday life? What if I could block the barrier from growing back? Would I then be able to fully realize the holiness in every task that I do? Would that kind of holy awareness be too much for me to handle all the time?
If I was fully aware of holiness all the time, would I lose the awe of the awakening?
How does a woman who believes in the truth of the Torah and all its’ teachings without believing it all as “fact” get moved to tears at the sound of Tekiah Gadola as the metaphorical gates are closing at the very end of Neilah Service? How has it happened year in and year out for so many years and yet still….. it surprises me?
These are just a few of the questions that I am asking myself this High Holy Day season in preparation for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, when I will sit in the pews at my home synagogue in New Orleans and be awakened again by the call of the shofar as a new year begins.
What questions are on your mind as you reflect throughout this holy season?
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“And go round and round and round in the circle game…”
The words of Joni Mitchell’s classic folk song have been sung many a summer. Now, truly, I feel as if my life has come round and round and round, full circle in the circle game… thanks to Jewish summer camp.
In the early 1970s, I was a young girl from a classical Reform congregation in New Orleans. Back then, for me the most engaging thing about going to Temple was wearing my new patent leather shoes. All I knew about attending Shabbat services was to stand and recite the Shema, and beyond that to sit still and be quiet until it was over. The service was an endless stream of responsive reading in “high” English, and frankly even on Family Night, the sermon was highly intellectualized. As a kid, it wasn’t for me.
I was very lucky, though—because my family did celebrate joyously at home on Shabbat and holidays, and my sisters and I got sent to Henry S. Jacobs Camp in Utica, Mississippi.
1971, my very first summer at camp, was absolutely magical! Services were filled with the music of Debbie Friedman, there was joy in prayer, Hebrew was an engaging and new thing for me to learn, and not only did the campers participate in worship services, but also the sermons were actually geared to teach young people.
That summer changed my life forever. I had found my personal Jewish self and was lit on fire. The experience was so powerful that out of my cabin of eight girls would ultimately emerge two rabbis, two synagogue presidents, a URJ National Board member, and a Captain in the United States Army! Leadership and a love of Jewish life were things we all developed, that summer and each summer we returned.
Macy B. Hart, who served as Jacobs Camp’s Director for 30 years, was and remains a force of nature. One of his most distinguished qualities is that he is a seed planter and a seed reaper, each summer and over the course of many years. Long after I was a camper, we stayed in touch, and when the time was right for the ISJL to offer me an opportunity to become a Jewish professional, he called and I said YES!
I still am delighted to be the Director of Programming for the ISJL. Last year I was doubly blessed to marry a wonderful man, move back home to New Orleans, AND become the Director of Education for my home congregation, Temple Sinai. A lot has changed since I was a kid in the 70s, and I have a chance now to be a part of the continued growth of my community, as a congregant and staff member.
This summer I had the privilege of serving on staff as a guest educator for a week at Jacobs. I arrived on Friday afternoon and during Shabbat dinner I looked around in awe as I realized that there were 20 of “my” kids from Temple Sinai in New Orleans, with whom I was sharing this beautiful Shabbat!
And now I get to be a part of their circle game, just as they have become a part of mine. Generation to generation, on a small campground, learning to be the next leaders and shapers of Jewish life. That’s the magic of Jewish summer camp.