calling out

Sixteen centuries ago, Rabbi Isaac looked for ways to repair his actions. He thought about moving to a new town. Maybe leaving or being chased out of a bad place could break the cycle of mistakes. As a new arrival, I can tell you that travel has shaped my character, but I never escaped my past by outrunning it. Wherever you go, there you are. We can only grow, and thereby change the shape of our destinies. Yet sometimes, it is hard to take even the first step.

Rabbi Isaac had a suggestion for when we are stuck in that rut. Since no one may know that we are stuck, and we cannot get out without help, we may need to let God and others know that we are down there. “Calling out” can break the spell of our bad habits, Rabbi Isaac said. Pour your heart into making God listen, then ask God to turn toward you to help you up. As the Ashrei tells us three times a day: God hears our cry and delivers us (Psalm 145:19). To my mind, this is the most important way to pray: let your heart spill out of your mouth.

Cry out to God for help. Put your tears, your desire, your hurts and your song into prayer. There are many ways to do it. Think of all the ways a guitar solo can “cry”: sometimes an electric guitar wails, other times it touches you with notes as gentle as rain, or it makes you feel joy to tap your feet. Like a great musician, make your prayer cry from the soul, with all your passion. Be vocal, say it loud, and shout your praise, your pain, your gratitude and your pity to the rooftops. This is the season of calling out.

How can we do this during the High Holidays? There are already so many words on the page: ancient, medieval, and modern poems and praises written by others. Sometimes it can be a chore just to get through them all. When they are not our words, how can we make them sing?

First, no one is limited to the words on the page, or to the order in which they were written. If you find yourself stuck on an incomprehensibly wonderful or frustrating phrase, pour your song into that single phrase. Or, find your own prayers between the printed lines. Second, do not sell the printed words short. They have life in them yet. Dvorak’s cello concerto is over a hundred years old, and many cellists did and still do express themselves in those notes, each one finding the accents, phrasing and timbres to make it unique. Likewise, think of all the songs written by Bruce Springsteen, Prince, Dolly Parton or Bob Dylan that new singers made their own. Our liturgy is no less rich, no less capable of nuance and no less full of undiscovered moments.

Now, Rabbi Isaac’s task is in your hands: make these prayers your own – find your own song, and your own call to God.