This week, I taught a class on t’filah, Jewish prayer, in which the students and I discussed the balance between keva, the fixed part of the liturgy—both in terms of the moments we are required to pray and the words we use—and kavanah, the spontaneity that leads us to seek connection with the Divine at different moments of the day, not necessarily using the prescribed words.
Throughout the centuries, Jewish tradition has sought to achieve a balance between these two concepts. On one hand, no one has ever believed that a spiritual connection can occur when words are recited mechanically, without presence in the moment. Indeed, very early sources already expressed the opinion that a prayer said without kavanah—without intent and concentration—is not considered valid. At the same time, several authors recognise that achieving genuine spiritual connection requires effort and that, just like with any other acquired skill, frequent practice—even when one does not feel “in the mood”—eventually makes the connection possible.
Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, one of the most influential theologians of the 20th century, wrote:
“There is a specific difficulty of Jewish prayer. There are laws: how to pray, when to pray, what to pray. There are fixed times, fixed ways, fixed text. On the other hand, prayer is worship of the heart, the outpouring of the soul, a matter of devotion. Thus, Jewish prayer is guided by two opposite principles: order and outburst, regularity and spontaneity, uniformity and individuality, law and freedom. These principles are the two poles about which Jewish prayer revolves. Since each of the two moves in the opposite direction, equilibrium can be maintained only if both are of equal force.” [1]
This week’s parashah, Vayakhel, introduces the search for this equilibrium between opposing principles. It continues the instructions for the construction of the Mishkan, the portable sanctuary the Israelites carried in the desert—the physical expression of what the prescribed liturgy, keva, meant in those times. At the same time, it details the incessant flow of donations towards the Mishkan’s construction, a desire to deeply connect with the Divine and with this communal effort—kavanah! Furthermore, the text tells us how Bezalel, the artisan leading the construction, was endowed by God with knowledge in every kind of craft (which could be seen as an expression of keva) but was also inspired to create all sorts of designs—an act of inspiration and creativity, which I see as forms of kavanah.
Quite often, when we think about Jewish religious observance—including but not limited to t’filah—we focus on the rules and laws that govern every aspect of our practices. And they are important! But it is equally essential to leave space for spontaneity, for the expression that comes from our innermost selves as we seek to connect with the Divine, with tradition, and with one another.
We have been striving to do just that at Bet David—incorporating new melodies, drawing from the beautiful poems in Mishkan T’filah, introducing new ones, and creating opportunities for members of the community to add their creative voices to the service. And we want to do even more!
Let’s learn about Jewish traditions and all their rules—and infuse them with our Jewish creativity, building together our shared Jewish path!
Shabbat Shalom,
[1] Abraham Joshua Heschel, “The Spirit of Jewish Prayer” in Moral Grandeur and Spiritual Audacity, p. 111
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