(Cross-posted on Jews By Choice)
So Said Larry Hoffman, our most recent teacher in the Wexner Heritage Program, who last night began leading us into a deep exploration of the Siddur, the Jewish prayer book.
Hoffman has a PhD in Liturgy and is also a rabbi. He teaches at Hebrew Union College in New York, and is pretty geeked out about the complexities of Jewish prayer and the marvels of the Siddur.
He pointed out that, unlike most books, the Siddur isn't bought to be read. You never start it at the beginning, and you never get to the end. What's more, it's made, unlike most books, to be used in a public, communal, ritualized setting.
Professor/Rabbi Hoffman said the Siddur takes something from all forms of literature, but is perhaps most like Drama: it is the script of the Jewish people's relationship with God through time. We all have roles to play in the drama, the central one being "to change you and make you a better person and a better Jew."
After leading us through the basic structure of many blessings in the Siddur, and applying it to the Shema, Professor/Rabbi Hoffman pointed out that, in its historical context, the Siddur arose along with the Rabbinic tradition as a way of institutionalizing creativity -- the central, oxymoronic challenge of Jewish observance. Hoffman said that Jewish prayer, before the advent of the Rabbis, was most akin to the extemporizing of gospel preachers, who use practiced rhetorical devices applied to Scripture, in dialogue with a rapt audience, to create something that is (one hopes) radically new each time.
The rabbinic tradition and the printing press, however, conspired (along with other historical events, like the destruction of the Temple, Diaspora and the need to survive) to lead us down the path toward setting the means and methods of our prayer in stone. That has, said Hoffman, been both our continuity and our undoing.
When you get beneath the surface of any Jewish practice, you see that it is an improvisation dropped in a pool of amber. You are both forbidden and encouraged to set it free. You have to adhere to a set of standards and traditions. You have to make it radically new. You have to be yourself; you have to be counted in, and counted on by, the community.
And your 'self' is a core sample of continuity -- fresh and individuated at the top, rooted in eons of debate and discussion and persecution and fervent prayer. The only way to begin to make sense of it all is to understand that the Siddur is the script of centuries of improvisation, telescoped into your moment of encounter with it.
You're in the orchestra -- musician and instrument, playing and being played; no two performances the same, never the same musicians in the pit; the score, the sounds and you a triple-helix of Jewish inventiveness that never changes and yet never holds still.
--T.A.
Awesome images. My favorite: "your 'self' is a core sample of continuity -- fresh and individuated at the top, rooted in eons of debate and discussion and persecution and fervent prayer."
Posted by: amba | February 14, 2008 at 08:04 PM
Thanks, me sis.
Posted by: david | February 14, 2008 at 09:03 PM
Having not looked at a siddur since I turned 13, I'm wondering how it compares, in your view, to other religions' prayer books. Also, it's very interesting that you say "both forbidden and encouraged" instead of "both encouraged and forbidden".
Posted by: Richard Lawrence Cohen | February 15, 2008 at 09:40 AM
Richard:
How good to hear from you!
The only other organized collections of prayers I'm familiar with are the Protestant hymnal in my ex-wife's small-town New Hampshire church, and various Buddhist texts. It seems to me that they're both much more orderly, as if one person or a small group put them together, and not thousands of people across a span of centuries. But I'm no scholar, especially on that score.
Interesting to note, too, that some siddurim -- like the Art Scroll siddur -- give you specific choreography in the margins: kiss your tefillin when you say this word, take three steps back, bow to the left and then right when you conclude this prayer, etc. I haven't seen that in other prayer books, because the choreography in other traditions is simple enough to be communicated orally and memorized quickly.
And you're right: 'forbidden' comes before 'encouraged', and that's no mistake. Encouragement to personalize your Jewish experience is an almost subversive and yet essential exercise in the Jewish worship experience from my perspective. After all, if there's no minyan, you can't say kaddish: your personal experience is secondary, at least as far as the rabbinic tradition is concerned.
Posted by: David | February 15, 2008 at 09:49 AM
Thanks, David. I've not been reading blogs at all for months -- no time, no time! -- but I've been creeping back slowly. I turned to yours today in the aftermath of the NIU shootings, and I thank you for that post too.
Posted by: Richard Lawrence Cohen | February 15, 2008 at 02:09 PM
"When you get beneath the surface of any Jewish practice, you see that it is an improvisation dropped in a pool of amber."
Maybe I'm biased, because I love your writing, but this is one of the best descriptions of the way Jewish practice evolves. This shows why we should be encouraged to improvise ourselves, despite the seemingly indelible ideas of the past. The past guides us, but we have every right - and obligation - to build on it.
Posted by: Steve Yastrow | February 17, 2008 at 04:50 PM