Does Prayer Have a Prayer?

“Prayer can be utterly boring,” Rabbi Elazar Muskin said to a gathering in his own house of prayer, Young Israel of Century City. Muskin was the last of three rabbis to speak on the subject last Shabbat afternoon, after Rabbi Yosef Kanefsky of B’nai David-Judea Congregation and Rabbi Kalman Topp of Beth Jacob Congregation.

The event was part of a national initiative from the Orthodox Union called “Making Our Tefillot More Personal and Meaningful,” and it was introduced by Rabbi Daniel Korobkin, its West Coast director for community and synagogue services.

The initiative makes a lot of sense, if only because, let’s face it, prayer can be boring. Boredom might not have been an issue in the shtetls of our ancestors, but it certainly is in our world, when “Thou shalt be entertaining” has become the 11th Commandment.

The problem cuts across all denominations, but it takes a different slant in the Orthodox community, where shul members feel a strong communal obligation to attend services every Shabbat, and where anti-boredom props like musical instruments are strictly forbidden.

Without the benefit of flutes and drum circles, Orthodox rabbis must find other ways to convince their members not to schmooze about the Lakers and the price of real estate during davening. This is no easy feat.
One of the great benefits of going to shul is the very idea of reconnecting with those we don’t see during the week. We are social animals. We need to talk.

When we talk to God, we’re never sure if He’s listening or answering. But when we ask our buddies sitting next to us how they feel about the latest balagan between Obama and Israel, we can be sure to get a response.

So, while Orthodox rabbis don’t have to compete with Starbucks or 24 Hour Fitness on Shabbat, they do have to compete with human nature: It’s a lot more fun to schmooze than to pray.

This is the mountain that the three rabbis had to climb on Shabbat afternoon, and while I don’t think they made it to the top, they came closer than I expected.

Kanefsky led off by suggesting that prayer can improve your life instantly. The three steps we take right before the silent prayer, he said, are really meant to elevate us. He asked us to imagine entering a private bubble three steps above the ground, where we would think about a specific problem during our silent prayer — a problem with a spouse, with a job, with a friend or relative, etc. — and allow God’s creative and healing energy to enter.

By focusing on the word “Atah” (You), we make our connection with God more intimate. This helps us come out of the bubble on a higher level than when we entered. Intention makes the difference.

Topp focused on the idea of authenticity, to oneself and to the moment. He told the story of a rebbe who allowed a follower to imitate his intense davening. When the rebbe saw “himself” davening, he realized that he made the mistake of trying to “imitate himself”— he wasn’t being true to the moment. We should follow the structure of prayer, Topp told us, but also improvise with our own touches and our feelings of the moment, and not “imitate ourselves” every time we pray.

Muskin focused on two things to make the prayer experience “anything but boring”: the importance of slowing down, and the importance of expressing gratitude. On the first, he held up Chief Rabbi of England Jonathan Sacks’ prayer book as a great example of prayer that “slows down,” and he announced that his shul would soon be offering classes on the meaning of prayer.

But it was the second thing he talked about — expressing gratitude — that got me thinking about the ultimate solution to the prayer conundrum. Muskin mentioned that since he’s had a pain in his leg, his prayers have been more intense because he’s so appreciative of the times that the pain is not there.

As he spoke, I thought, “Eureka! This is the solution!” Shuls should be renamed Thank You Houses, and every Jew should be asked the following: Are you grateful that you can see, walk, hear or breathe? Well, then, here’s the deal: In return for all those blessings, sacrifice a little of your time and come say thank you once a week.

In other words, forget whether the shul is boring, whether you like the chazzan or the rabbi’s sermon, or whether the service is inspirational or stimulating. Those are all bonuses. You’re in shul primarily to give tzedakah to God: to express your gratitude for the things that are most valuable to you. You love your children? Come say thank you that you have them. You love the fact that you can listen to great music? Same thing — come say thank you.

The idea is to recognize a shul’s limitations and turn it into a virtue. A prayer service can never compete with the “entertainment” of a great show or movie, nor should it want to. But with its many rituals and prayers that honor the Creator, a shul is uniquely qualified to facilitate one of the most meaningful and universal acts of the Jewish tradition: the act of gratitude.

You like the fact that you’re healthy enough to schmooze? Dedicate a few hours next Shabbat just to say thank you. That prayer, thank God, never gets boring.

David Suissa is the founder of OLAM magazine and OLAM.org. You can read his daily blog at suissablog.com and e-mail him at {encode=”suissa@olam.org” title=”suissa@olam.org”}.