Depressed? Try Being Part of a Minyan

“Get in there, they need you!” I wasn’t expecting to be spoken to so forcefully as I entered my synagogue and walked toward the closed doors to the chapel. More than that, I doubt the woman knew that hearing her say those words made my day.

It was Friday morning and I was heading to minyan—and running late. About fifteen minutes late, I debated whether to even go, but ultimately decided to venture over to my synagogue since I figured I’d still make it in time for the Mourner’s Kaddish. Who knows, maybe they didn’t yet have a minyan and I was needed, even if tardy.

It turned out I made the right decision. In fact, I was the tenth person. Not only did I make it in time for Mourner’s Kaddish, but also the Shema and Amidah. Clearly, I wasn’t as late as I thought.

In its infinite wisdom, Judaism mandates community during a time of bereavement. If the pandemic taught us anything, it’s that community is vital to everyone, whether you’re in a period of mourning or not. To be cut off from it can cause a different, yet very real type of anguish from the loss of connection.

Going back to the beginning, I should clarify why I was running late. For the past three years, I’ve been coping with depression. I moved from the Midwest to Los Angeles on March 2, 2020. I didn’t really know anyone in LA prior to my move and I certainly didn’t anticipate having less than two weeks in my new city before being plunged into an indefinite isolation. Unsurprisingly this did not have a positive effect on my mental health. On this particular morning I was moving rather slowly and debating with myself whether getting out of bed was worth it. I am glad I concluded it was.

This epiphany regarding the mental health benefits of minyan attendance came to me by sheer luck. I started attending only due to a request from one of my synagogue’s board members. During a Shabbat morning service, he spoke of the difficulty in getting a minyan each day due to the lingering effects of the pandemic. He challenged members to make an effort to attend once a week, once a month, or whatever frequency was possible. I am fortunate that my parents are both living and, having no one for whom to observe yahrzeit, I had never considered attending. However, hearing this charge to members, I felt compelled to act. Here was an opportunity to help the community, and I was lucky to have a flexible job while also living close to the synagogue.

I noticed the benefits to my mental health rather quickly. First, it forced me to get out of bed. During the pandemic there was very little reason for me to get up each morning. Depression, coupled with the lack of much purpose or responsibility, meant I spent an inordinate amount of time staring at my ceiling, which might’ve been fine if I lived in the Sistine Chapel and not a mid-century LA dingbat.

Knowing that simply by showing up I was helping the community was enough to get me out of bed.

Knowing that simply by showing up I was helping the community was enough to get me out of bed. Minyan attendance is incredibly low pressure; my mere presence is all that’s required. I don’t have to lead prayers (and honestly, it’s best that I don’t since my Hebrew leaves much to be desired) and if I’m on the wrong page or behind that’s okay too, because by being there I’m doing my part. There are times when I’m having a bad day and I don’t want to make eye contact with anyone else. Even that’s no problem: I can still show up, bury my head in the siddur and no one is the wiser. One can engage as much, or as little, as is desired. It’s truly the perfect, “I’m depressed but still want to participate and help out” activity.

Another substantial benefit of being part of a minyan is partaking in the prayers themselves. One could cynically dismiss this gain as short-lived since the prayers are pretty much the same every day. But that view couldn’t be more short-sighted because, while the prayers may not change much, we are different every day. Every minyan service is a chance to notice something we didn’t notice before or gain strength from a passage that may have seemed mundane just the other day. For example, while reading Tahanun, I can’t help but feel the words in my soul as someone struggling with depression. Not too long ago some ugly, antisemitic words were directed at me; the next morning at minyan a line near the end of the Amidah, something I had read countless times, stood out in a way it never has before: “Help me ignore those who slander me.” It’s not unlike going on a hike multiple times on the same trail; the trail may stay the same, but each time you’ll notice something different, and each time you will feel different. Praying at minyan has the same effect.

To be clear, I’m not saying minyan attendance is a cure for depression. But, for me, it’s a powerful tool to help fight it and improve mental health. In my experience the best way to treat depression is using all the resources available at one’s disposal. Not once have I attended a minyan and regretted my decision. It doesn’t always turn my mood around completely, but joining my community and participating in the prayers that have helped sustain the Jewish people for centuries never ceases to give me a boost for the rest of my day. If you’re depressed, or just feeling a bit down, give it a try—it might do the same for you.