A Public Service Announcement to the folks I davened with on Sunday:
To the fellow davening next to me:
It's bad enough that the shliach tzibur (prayer leader) for Shacharis is reciting the Chazaras HaShatz (the repitition of the amidah) so low that I can barely hear him. Please don't compound the problem by saying your "catch up" davening loudly next to me. I believe that, even though you are a member in the shul and I am only a guest, my right to hear the chazzan trumps your "right" to say Az Yashir in a loud voice. An even better idea would be to come on time next time so that you can say Az Yashir when the rest of the congregation is doing so. And you didn't make matters any better when you recited portions of your (silent) Amidah out loud.
To the parade of people marching to and from the sukkah at the start of Hallel:
Yes, it's a nice minhag (custom) to bentch lulav and esrog in the sukkah. I get it, I really do. But if doing so is going to result in your missing half of Hallel, then you're better off just bentching lulav by your seat. I highly doubt it's worth missing half of Hallel (I saw some of you coming back inside as we were up to "Ana HaShem..." just so that you can bentch lulav in the sukkah. If the minhag means that much to you, then next time bentch lulav at home in your sukkah before coming to shul, or else come early and do it in the shul's sukkah before davening, or else just do it at your seat right before Hallel.
To the conversationalists:
I understand... it's a Sunday, it's Chol HaMoed, there's no work for most of you and you have plans for a great day with your families. I get it, I really do. But there's no reason to be discussing them (or any of the other minutiae) that is discussed during davening. I was barely able to hear the Chazarras HaShatz for Mussaf because of all the talking in the shul. Yes, I suppose I am partially to blame because I sit all the way in the back -- I suppose if I moved closer I might be able to hear better -- but I really shouldn't have to. It's not as if the Shliach Tzibur for Mussaf was all that low -- he wasn't. Absent the talking, I could have heard him perfectly where I was. Once again, I'm willing to bet that even though I am only a guest and you are members, that my right to hear the chazzan trumps your "right" to discuss your plans for the day. Perhaps, in the future, you might consider the following:
I am normally strongly opposed to the practice that some people have of removing their tallis and tefillin before the very end of davening. Yet, I understand that sometimes people are in a rush because they have to get to work or because they have important plans that are time-sensitive. So I'm dan l'kaf z'chus (I give the benefit of the doubt). But I would much rather see you leave early and hold your discussions outside while the davening is still going on rather than have you discuss them in shul. It's REALLY hard for me to be dan l'kaf z'chus when I hear you discussing things that are (a) not related to the davening and (b) don't HAVE to be discussed right then and there and (c) are discussed loudly enough that I can hear you a few rows away and can no longer hear the shliach tzibbur. So, next time, how about leaving instead of talking? Both are wrong, but at least if you leave, I have grounds on which to give you the benefit of the doubt.
The Wolf
Showing posts with label davening. Show all posts
Showing posts with label davening. Show all posts
Monday, September 27, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
Missing The Forest For The Trees
Allow me to introduce you to Shimon. Shimon is a fellow who davens in a shul in my neighborhood. I only know Shimon by sight -- to the point where I have no idea what his name actually is (for all I know, it really could be Shimon). He seems to be an affable fellow -- he comes to shul with a smile on his face and is well-liked by his fellow congregants. I've never seen him upset about anything. He sits in the back of the shul with a few friends.
This past Friday night, I was davening in that selfsame shul. Although I don't normally daven in that shul, I do find myself there on Friday nights sometimes - very often sitting near or next to Shimon.
This past Friday night, Shimon came in late -- and when I say late, I mean very late. He arrived at shul after Borchu. OK, so he came late -- we all do it from time to time. Perhaps he had some minor emergency that needed to be taken care of. Perhaps he was helping someone else with last-minute Shabbos preparations. Let's be dan l'kaf z'chus here.
After he arrives and grabs a siddur, he then proceeds to quickly daven Mincha, opens his siddur to Kabbolos Shabbos, davens a paragraph or two -- and then begin talking to three other people at the same table. And so it goes -- he quickly davens a paragraph or two and then goes back to the conversation. Through all this, in the time that the congregation davened Ma'ariv, he davened Mincha, Kabbolos Shabbos and Ma'ariv -- and spent about 50% of the time talking to his neighbors.
Finally, after davening, he gets ready to leave. He grabs his siddur and heads to the bookcases and doors. His friend reaches for the hand that holds his siddur. "Just leave it there for tomorrow morning," he says.
"No," replies Shimon. "It's a segulah for parnassah to put your siddur away after davening."
Now, I have no idea if this is a legitimate segulah or not -- but let's say, for the sake of argument, that is. Talk about missing the forest for the trees! He arrives late to davening, barely prays at all -- and when he does he interrupts it with unnecessary conversation -- and then thinks that putting his siddur back on the shelf is somehow going to grant him extra income. How about spending more time and attention and showing greater respect to the prayers and the One to whom you are praying? It's Him -- not the siddur on the shelf -- that provides your parnassah. I somehow find it hard to believe that God looks favorably on the act of putting the siddur back on the shelf after showing active disrespect for God, His prayers and services and the fellow congregants who are trying to daven undisturbed by unnecessary conversation. I'd be willing to bet dollars to doughnuts that God would be far more pleased if you arrived on time, didn't talk through davening and simply left your siddur on the table at the end of davening.
The Wolf
This past Friday night, I was davening in that selfsame shul. Although I don't normally daven in that shul, I do find myself there on Friday nights sometimes - very often sitting near or next to Shimon.
This past Friday night, Shimon came in late -- and when I say late, I mean very late. He arrived at shul after Borchu. OK, so he came late -- we all do it from time to time. Perhaps he had some minor emergency that needed to be taken care of. Perhaps he was helping someone else with last-minute Shabbos preparations. Let's be dan l'kaf z'chus here.
After he arrives and grabs a siddur, he then proceeds to quickly daven Mincha, opens his siddur to Kabbolos Shabbos, davens a paragraph or two -- and then begin talking to three other people at the same table. And so it goes -- he quickly davens a paragraph or two and then goes back to the conversation. Through all this, in the time that the congregation davened Ma'ariv, he davened Mincha, Kabbolos Shabbos and Ma'ariv -- and spent about 50% of the time talking to his neighbors.
Finally, after davening, he gets ready to leave. He grabs his siddur and heads to the bookcases and doors. His friend reaches for the hand that holds his siddur. "Just leave it there for tomorrow morning," he says.
"No," replies Shimon. "It's a segulah for parnassah to put your siddur away after davening."
Now, I have no idea if this is a legitimate segulah or not -- but let's say, for the sake of argument, that is. Talk about missing the forest for the trees! He arrives late to davening, barely prays at all -- and when he does he interrupts it with unnecessary conversation -- and then thinks that putting his siddur back on the shelf is somehow going to grant him extra income. How about spending more time and attention and showing greater respect to the prayers and the One to whom you are praying? It's Him -- not the siddur on the shelf -- that provides your parnassah. I somehow find it hard to believe that God looks favorably on the act of putting the siddur back on the shelf after showing active disrespect for God, His prayers and services and the fellow congregants who are trying to daven undisturbed by unnecessary conversation. I'd be willing to bet dollars to doughnuts that God would be far more pleased if you arrived on time, didn't talk through davening and simply left your siddur on the table at the end of davening.
The Wolf
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Davening: Which Is Preferable?
A few nights ago, I was davening Ma'ariv in my local shul. Most of the shul is of the black hat/jacket type. I am one of the few who don't fit that mold - but that's all right. No one at the shul has ever harrassed me or even looked askance at my lack of jacket and/or hat.
That being said, on this particular night, I was dressed in a button-down work shirt (blue, dress-casual), no hat or jacket. A friend of mine was dressed in a button-down white shirt, tie, jacket... and a baseball cap.
The get-up led me to thinking... was wearing the baseball cap the right thing to do? If one applies the concept that one should daven as he would appear before a king, then I would think that the person should lose the cap. No one would go before a king with a jacket, tie and baseball cap*. Most people, I would think, would sooner go without the cap in just a jacket & tie. And even if you're going to argue that that's just a reflection of non-Jewish culture (which regards the removing of the hat as a sign of respect), you probably wouldn't go to the Gadol HaDor like that either. If you had to go and had no formal hat and the only choices were yarmulke only or yarmulke plus baseball cap, my guess would be that most would go without the baseball cap.
There is also the custom of having a double-head covering when davening. However, I wonder if this should be observed at the expense of making one look silly. What if the only "second cover" you could find was a jester cap (assuming, of course, it's not Purim), would you wear it for davening? Does the custom to have a second head covering really overrule common sense with regard to how one looks when davening in front of God?
What are your thoughts?
The Wolf
* Possible exception: if you were meeting the king at the ballpark and your cap was that of his favorite team.
That being said, on this particular night, I was dressed in a button-down work shirt (blue, dress-casual), no hat or jacket. A friend of mine was dressed in a button-down white shirt, tie, jacket... and a baseball cap.
The get-up led me to thinking... was wearing the baseball cap the right thing to do? If one applies the concept that one should daven as he would appear before a king, then I would think that the person should lose the cap. No one would go before a king with a jacket, tie and baseball cap*. Most people, I would think, would sooner go without the cap in just a jacket & tie. And even if you're going to argue that that's just a reflection of non-Jewish culture (which regards the removing of the hat as a sign of respect), you probably wouldn't go to the Gadol HaDor like that either. If you had to go and had no formal hat and the only choices were yarmulke only or yarmulke plus baseball cap, my guess would be that most would go without the baseball cap.
There is also the custom of having a double-head covering when davening. However, I wonder if this should be observed at the expense of making one look silly. What if the only "second cover" you could find was a jester cap (assuming, of course, it's not Purim), would you wear it for davening? Does the custom to have a second head covering really overrule common sense with regard to how one looks when davening in front of God?
What are your thoughts?
The Wolf
* Possible exception: if you were meeting the king at the ballpark and your cap was that of his favorite team.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Quick Question About Shabbos, Yom Kippur and Avinu Malkeinu
Normally, on Yom Kippur, we say Avinu Malkeinu (Our Father, Our King) after each of the services. This year, however, because Yom Kippur comes out on Shabbos, it will be omitted (as the prayer is always omitted on Shabbos). Nonetheless, it *will* be recited following the last service, Neilah, at the close of the day.
My question, very simply, is why?
I came up with two hypotheses:
1. Since it is after shkiah (sunset) and it is only a safek (doubt) as to whether it is really Shabbos or not (depending on whether the day begins at shkiah or tzais hakochavim [when the stars appear]), we say it.
2. Neilah, being the last prayer of the day, is meant to end on a spiritual and emotional high note, and so the prayer is recited anyway, *despite* the fact that it is Shabbos.
Of course, the real answer could be a combination of these, or neither of the above.
Anyone have any thoughts?
The Wolf
My question, very simply, is why?
I came up with two hypotheses:
1. Since it is after shkiah (sunset) and it is only a safek (doubt) as to whether it is really Shabbos or not (depending on whether the day begins at shkiah or tzais hakochavim [when the stars appear]), we say it.
2. Neilah, being the last prayer of the day, is meant to end on a spiritual and emotional high note, and so the prayer is recited anyway, *despite* the fact that it is Shabbos.
Of course, the real answer could be a combination of these, or neither of the above.
Anyone have any thoughts?
The Wolf
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
I Lost My Siddur
I seem to have misplaced my siddur. I'm fairly certain that it is somewhere in the house, I'm just not sure where.
Now, you may be wondering why I'm worried about a simple siddur. After all, we must have a dozen siddurim in our house, and when I go to shul, there is always an ample supply. But, you see, this siddur is special to me.
I bought it back around 1984. It was a small pocket-sized weekday Metsudah siddur. It was the type of siddur that you simply get into the habit of using -- there was nothing special about it (other than the fact that I liked the intra-linear setup) that caused me to value it over any other siddur.
That was until 1994. By 1994 I was considering replacing the siddur. The lettering and cover design had long since faded to the point where the cover is just a plain maroon cover. The pages were getting a bit worn (as one might expect after ten years) and the sides of the pages and the corners had long since gone from white to dark grey. It was getting to the point where it was time to move on to a new siddur.
That was when Walter got a hold of the siddur.
Walter was about a year old... maybe a year and a half. He somehow got a hold of my siddur (to this day I still don't know how) and a pen. Like a true artist, he used whatever canvas he had... in this case, the pages of my siddur.
The damage wasn't too bad. Some scribbles on the pages with Adom Olam, Yigdal and Brachos at the beginning and some more by Ashrei-U'va L'tziyon at the end of Shacharis. Overall, the siddur was still quite usable. But now, I found that it had a new purpose. Now I found that when I opened up the siddur at the beginning of the day to the start of davening, I found that I had a tangible reminder of some of the reasons that I need to daven. I found that by having these scribbles on the pages, I was reminded of my son (and since then, the rest of my kids as well) and it helped to give a new focus to my davening.
Sadly, the siddur has been misplaced. I'm fairly certain it's in the house. If you're in my house and you see an old pocket-sized softcover maroon siddur, with no markings on the cover, my name in the front, and scribbles on some of the pages, please make sure to let me know. I miss it.
The Wolf
Now, you may be wondering why I'm worried about a simple siddur. After all, we must have a dozen siddurim in our house, and when I go to shul, there is always an ample supply. But, you see, this siddur is special to me.
I bought it back around 1984. It was a small pocket-sized weekday Metsudah siddur. It was the type of siddur that you simply get into the habit of using -- there was nothing special about it (other than the fact that I liked the intra-linear setup) that caused me to value it over any other siddur.
That was until 1994. By 1994 I was considering replacing the siddur. The lettering and cover design had long since faded to the point where the cover is just a plain maroon cover. The pages were getting a bit worn (as one might expect after ten years) and the sides of the pages and the corners had long since gone from white to dark grey. It was getting to the point where it was time to move on to a new siddur.
That was when Walter got a hold of the siddur.
Walter was about a year old... maybe a year and a half. He somehow got a hold of my siddur (to this day I still don't know how) and a pen. Like a true artist, he used whatever canvas he had... in this case, the pages of my siddur.
The damage wasn't too bad. Some scribbles on the pages with Adom Olam, Yigdal and Brachos at the beginning and some more by Ashrei-U'va L'tziyon at the end of Shacharis. Overall, the siddur was still quite usable. But now, I found that it had a new purpose. Now I found that when I opened up the siddur at the beginning of the day to the start of davening, I found that I had a tangible reminder of some of the reasons that I need to daven. I found that by having these scribbles on the pages, I was reminded of my son (and since then, the rest of my kids as well) and it helped to give a new focus to my davening.
Sadly, the siddur has been misplaced. I'm fairly certain it's in the house. If you're in my house and you see an old pocket-sized softcover maroon siddur, with no markings on the cover, my name in the front, and scribbles on some of the pages, please make sure to let me know. I miss it.
The Wolf
Sunday, June 17, 2007
No, I won't forget Ya'aleh V'Yavoh
Two years ago, I posted about people who overemphasize the /z/ in tizk'ru in Sh'ma. Over Shabbos I was reminded of equally annoying behavior.
On Rosh Chodesh, we all the paragraph of Ya'aleh V'Yavoh to our Amidah. It is important to remind the congregation to say it since (at least in the case of Shacharis and Mincha) failure to add the paragraph means that you have to repeat the entire Amidah. So, I certainly understand the gabbai making an announcement to say it before the Amidah. I can even understand the *first* person in shul who gets to Ya'aleh V'Yavoh saying the words aloud since someone might have forgotten since the announcement. However, I don't understand why the next person has to say it out loud only thirty seconds later. It's not like most of us are going to forget it after the last person *just* reminded us. And then it is repeated again by the next person, and the next, and the next. By Ma'ariv on Friday night, I heard the words "Ya'aleh V'Yavoh" out loud during the Amidah at least a dozen times. What's the point? So that the person can "prove" to everyone in the shul that he said it?
The Amidah is a silent prayer; let's keep it that way.
(Just to be fair: In the shul that I davened in on Saturday, *no one* said it aloud -- but that seems to be the exception rather than the rule.)
The Wolf
On Rosh Chodesh, we all the paragraph of Ya'aleh V'Yavoh to our Amidah. It is important to remind the congregation to say it since (at least in the case of Shacharis and Mincha) failure to add the paragraph means that you have to repeat the entire Amidah. So, I certainly understand the gabbai making an announcement to say it before the Amidah. I can even understand the *first* person in shul who gets to Ya'aleh V'Yavoh saying the words aloud since someone might have forgotten since the announcement. However, I don't understand why the next person has to say it out loud only thirty seconds later. It's not like most of us are going to forget it after the last person *just* reminded us. And then it is repeated again by the next person, and the next, and the next. By Ma'ariv on Friday night, I heard the words "Ya'aleh V'Yavoh" out loud during the Amidah at least a dozen times. What's the point? So that the person can "prove" to everyone in the shul that he said it?
The Amidah is a silent prayer; let's keep it that way.
(Just to be fair: In the shul that I davened in on Saturday, *no one* said it aloud -- but that seems to be the exception rather than the rule.)
The Wolf
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