Friday, March 07, 2008

prayer

At a meeting last week, seminary students were asked to spend five minutes talking with God. Although the timing was right, I did not say the standard evening prayer-service in Hebrew. Instead, I spent five minutes telling God how I was doing in my own words, thanking God for good things in my life, and asking God to look over my family, my friends and me. It felt soothing and I saw that my life was in a good place. After my chat with God, I had a chance to talk with colleagues about their experiences during the five minutes. I was a little confused that the traditional Jewish mode of prayer - a fixed liturgy - hadn't appealed to me at that moment, and I didn't know why.

Then, a friend emailed a few of us to ask about "the power of our prayers to help out those who are sick." That of course leads to the question: Why do we pray? I took a long time thinking about it because I don't have a clear answer. I don't want God to answer my prayers. That is, I don't like to leave the door open for miracles, because without regular physics, the universe would show too much favoritism. I don't believe that God intervenes directly in our lives. For, if God can deliver a son, reveal the Qur'an, or split the Reed Sea, why doesn't God cure a friend's cancer or stop genocide in Darfur?

So, I don't pray because I think that God will step in and change things in response to my prayers. As much as I would like God to do things for me, I can't ask for it because it would cause theological break-downs. In part, I pray because it helps me feel close to God. I feel peaceful and know that God is with me in struggles and celebrations. Even the times when I pray and I don't feel close, I still know that I'm building a relationship with God, because it's important to spend time with someone even when there's nothing going on or not much to say.

It's also important to have a spiritual practice. Praying for me is a part of spiritual gym. Think about your exercise program: yoga, soccer, frisbee, weight-lifting. You don't feel great everytime you go. Sometimes, you feel flat. Other times, you might start out for a run without any heart in it, but it might become a great run. And occassionally, you come home feeling better than you could ever have imagined. You just have a great game.

Prayer and religious practice are like that. Traditional liturgy is a way to get regular exercise, and sometimes I need to cross-train in other ways: silence, meditation, direct address to God. And I have to keep going through a lot of down times in order to get to the peak experiences. So partly I pray to keep my soul in shape. I pray to stay connected with God. I pray to get to those spiritual highs. Also, I pray because it keeps me aware, gentle and focussed. If there's a personal problem I'm working on, I might pray to have the courage, determination and patience to keep at it. Prayer keeps me in the game.

1 comment:

Gershon Ferency said...

Shalom Alon,

The liturgy is not intended to replace heartfelt, open prayer, but to give a framework. We also need to make the time to talk to G-d outside of the Beit Knesset, and outside of the 'constraints' of the Liturgy. However, the meeting point between the two is actually in the liturgy, during the silent shmoneh esrai, when we are completely alone with G-d, standing in awe, but speaking with Him.