From Sacrifices to Prayers - Have we lost our way?

In one memorable scene from the movie Sister Act, Whoopi Goldberg, who plays a Las Vegas singer turned nun, is about to be executed by two mafia hit men. They feel uncomfortable shooting her with full regalia, so they ask her to remove the, uh, nun thing. In response she kneels down and starts mumbling a prayer, and the two men slowly move to flank her, standing at her sides with their head down, listening with awe and reverence to her words: “Lord, I want you to forgive Willy and Joey… because they know not what they do… so I want you to forgive them, Lord. Espectum. Espertum…Eplubium” the two mesmerized gangsters answer solemnly: “Amen!” at which point, with the hands extended for prayer, she punches them both and escapes.

The whole scene makes you wonder: how can one fool himself so blatantly? How can a hit man feel devout before pulling the trigger, not being able to tell apart nun from gun, priest from fist, cloak from dagger?

This would have never happened in Judaism, you say? You claim that the omniscient Creator and Giver of the Law has built so many defense mechanisms into the Torah that this kind of actions is alien to us? Well, I beg to differ. The Tosefta, in tractate Shevu’ot (1:4) tells this harrowing tale:

The father was overwhelmed with joy not because his son survived, since he did not, but rather because he was able to draw the knife from the victim’s body before his death, thus preserving the status of purity of that holy object. The author of the Tosefta concludes that the priests cared more about the ritualistic purity of the Temple’s vessels then about murder or fatherly love.

Studying Parashat VaYikra inevitably leads to a discussion of sacrifices, prayers and moral behavior. Wasting no time on introductions, VaYikra flings us into a whirlwind of slaughtered animals, birds, cattle and sheep. As we make our way among the throngs of people surrounding the Tabernacle, carrying or dragging their sin, thanksgiving, well-being, penalty and burnt offerings, we feel dizzy at the sight of the altars and the scent of burning wood, smoke and frankincense. As we ask ourselves if this is what God wants or needs, voices of ancient prophets surface from times immemorial:

The prophets did not oppose the actual sacrifices but the way people perceived them. They reproached the Israelites for thinking that they are feeding, pleasing or appeasing God. All over the land of Israel were the prophets wandering and preaching, from rooftops, in busy bazaars and among celebrating crowds, they would disrupt the complacent life of the “believers” and tell them that the sacrifices are just a means for a loftier goal: reverence of God and caring for others, as the endings of the above-mentioned quotes prove:

Be it as it may, the issue of animal sacrifices today is mainly theoretical, but as R. Yehoshua says in tractate Berakhot (26:2), we have the prayers as a substitute. That is true, but as our nation has accumulated over 2,000 years uttering official prayers, compared with less than 1,000 bringing sacrifices, some of the distorted perspectives and misconceptions mentioned by the prophets regarding the sacrifices are clearly evident in our prayers’ habits.

Many people frequent the synagogue on a daily or weekly basis, rabbis and boards compete for bringing the greatest number of people to services or events, and new prayer books are printed every week, but the question hanging over this great enterprise is not how many people come to the synagogue, but rather how much of the synagogue do people take home with them?

Yes, it is true, many of our synagogues and of our personal prayers are plagued with the same problems which brought about the destruction of the two temples. Though we do not hear of murder with a sacrificial knife over the merit to perform rituals, thank God, I have witnessed cases of public humiliation over religious duties, an embarrassment which is tantamount to shedding one’s blood. I have seen a cantor being told to stop praying or singing because he was wearing short sleeves, was reading too fast or too slow and even a fist fight over the right tune. In some synagogue the rumor factory works in full steam, shooting poisoned arrows and burying well sharpened knives in peoples’ lives and reputations. All that, in the praying person’s mind, is OK because “I go to shul, I pray, I read the siddur cover to cover, and God is happy because I gave Him His share”.

Remember Willy and Joey from Sister Act? If the prayer would have had any effect on them, they would drop their guns, fall to the ground and ask for forgiveness, but they were happy for a deal which will allow them to kill the nun and be forgiven by God. They did not see the paradox of their behavior because they were thinking of the prayer as a tool, a superficial cleansing device, and not as a process meant to transform them. Forces similar to these two sometimes lurk within us, with a drawn weapon of gossip, calumny and rumors exchange, ready to attack others in whom we find fault, while mindless lips utter meaningless words. At other times the devout priest, the one who cared more about his defiled knife, rears his head and makes us abide by a hierarchy according to which it is more important to protect the purity of objects then the life and dignity of a human being. Think for example of a man who enters a synagogue for the first time since his Bar Mitzvah and decides to try on the Tefilin. Before he makes the first move he is surrounded by officious well-wishers who flip over the straps, straighten his Kippah, and adjust the Tefilin so they fit between his eyes. Their deep concern about the proper placement of the Tefilin is indeed touching, but they have let it override the importance of paying attention to one’s feelings and dignity. This man might not want to return to a synagogue at all after that experience. I know, because he told me so.

The results of this attitude, I fear, are evident in what might be considered the destruction of the III Temple: Our Synagogues. Less and less Jews identify themselves as observant or believers, and while there are many social, cultural and personal factors which are responsible for this decline, the importance of a community center where one can have a spiritual experience and feel connected to God should not be taken lightly.

Is there an intrinsic problem with a system which allows us to follow a protocol for atonement? Is it inevitable to end up discarding the content and focusing on the shell? Maybe! But just because something is difficult, it doesn’t mean that we should let ourselves fail. We should start fixing our sacrifices, namely our prayers, one step at a time.

Consider this gradual program to improve our Tefila experience:

• Drive away the evil tendency to be judgmental, find less faults in others and more inner strength in you.
• Talk less during prayers and limit discussion to words which can help and benefit others.
• Take time to read and understand the prayers, using translations and commentaries if possible, listening to or attending lectures on prayer and morality.
• Find moments of inspiration and meditation, whether looking at nature or at a sleeping baby, listening to great music or performing an act of loving-kindness.
• Take to heart the sorrow and suffering we encounter and decide to do something about it.
• Collect the beautiful moments and the sad ones, the inspirational and the moving with the depressing and the hopeless ones. Keep them in a jar and pull them out to contemplate and reflect on, to thank God and praise Him for what is and to find ways to cope with what is not, in the spirit of King David’s words: “You keep count of my wanderings; put my tears into Your flask; into Your record” (Ps. 56:9)
• When in the synagogue, remember that it is preferable to say less, but with intention and focus, then a lot but mindlessly. There is no point in rushing through pages, reciting unintelligible words just to be on the same page with the Hazzan.

It is much better to be on the same page with our soul, and with God