To Pray or Not to Pray

To Pray or Not to pray I've observed a fascinating phenomenon with some people as they age and lose some of their cognitive awareness. Often they continue to hold on to things that were an integral value or habit throughout their lifetime, even if they are no longer aware of what that thing is. My grandfather, as an example, came to this country from Russia 100 years ago as a young teenager. That's when his formal education ended. As a new immigrant, he had to work very hard, starting off as a janitor in a bakery, toiling for 12 hours a day, 6 days a week, for $1 a day. As he got older and eventually owned his own business, his work ethic never changed. But one thing that he brought with him from the old country was his commitment to prayer. As children, whenever we went to visit Grandpa and Grandma in Long Island, we knew that Grandpa would catch the earliest minyan in town and then hop on the early Long Island Railroad train to his office in the city. It was no surprise that many decades later, even after he had a stroke, he continued to remain super-committed to prayer, going to synagogue whenever possible. In his final years and months, when no one really understood what he was saying, he was constantly mumbling Hebrew words from the prayers. It was part of his essence. As King David said, "And I am prayer." Grandpa, due to his commitment to minyan, became prayer. Prayer is such an integral part of the human condition. People of all faiths and religious affiliations naturally gravitate towards prayer in so many of life's circumstances. Someone I know from Jerusalem told me about a man who pulled up to the kotel (Western Wall) on a motorcycle and with long, curly hair, decked out in leather and chains, hardly looking like your typical Kotel goer. But he made his way reverently to the Wall, said a prayer and placed a note lovingly inside the cracks. After he left, his paper fell out of the wall and onto the ground. Watching the whole scene and unable to contain his curiosity, my friend bent down, picked up the note and saw that it contained a prayer to G-d for the Maccabi Tel Aviv soccer team to win their upcoming game. As Jews we believe strongly in the power of prayer. and that means all prayers: long prayers, short prayers. prayers recited at home, in the car or on the run, prayers in Hebrew, English or any other language or script. But there is a special place in G-d's heart for prayers recited with a minyan in synagogue. The great kabbalists explain that since the destruction of the holy Temple in Jerusalem, prayer with a minyan has the power to usher the shechinah (divine presence) to descend into our world. Which leads me to a topic that is very close to my heart: the JFX Shabbat Minyan. Recently, we have been discussing internally whether we can reopen our in-person Shabbat minyan yet or not. Will enough people feel comfortable enough to come back to synagogue and support our minyan? We need a solid pool of 10+ commitments (an insurance run or two) to be able to reopen. We have a large sanctuary for everyone to spread out safely, with Covid-19-friendly air purifiers, but will people feel safe returning? Prayer is a personal passion of mine, and I believe in its power. One of my most memorable prayer experiences was a prayer recited alone in the woods in Hocking Hills, Ohio last year. But the rhythm and consistency of communal prayer has its own power that can impact so powerfully -- especially our JFX minyan. It is such a special, unique minyan. I am always inspired by the diversity of Jews from so many different backgrounds, affiliations and levels of observance committing together under the same roof (or tent) for the sole purpose of what's truly important in life: faith, family and community. Being at our JFX minyan brings me back to the special place in my heart of other minyans around the world whose diversity I will always treasure. After our second child was born in Jerusalem on an early Shabbat morning, I spent Shabbat at Sharei Zedek hospital praying and connecting with Jews of every stripe and color. The only other thing we had in common, other than being Jewish, was that we were in the hospital for a reason, and all needed prayers. We all needed each others' prayers, too. We need more of that in our world. Diversity, unity and community. What a powerful combination. Bring it on! So I really feel ambivalent about how to proceed with our minyan. On the one hand, safety is always the number one concern. On the other hand, we, all those who pray, are essential frontline workers, as prayer contains the great power not only to to connect us with the divine presence within our world, but also to affect powerful positive change in our world, change that we so desperately need now, perhaps more than ever. Hopefully, we will all be able to meet again soon in synagogue. Until then, let's remember the directive of the great "Moshe Chaim" Hammer, "We need to pray just to make it today" -- wherever that may be. Shabbat Shalom, Rabbi Koval