I Am My Prayer: A Memoir and Guide for Jews and Seekers

By Paul J. Citrin and Micah J. Citrin

I Am My Prayer is a memoir of the author's public and private prayer experience. It is also a guide and explanation of key elements of public Jewish Services. The book familiarizes readers with the use of prayer metaphors, questions about God, the importance of communal prayer, ethical values expressed in the liturgy, and consideration of creative liturgy. While the context of the book is Jewish, it has a universal message to anyone who struggles with prayer, and who seeks to be comfortable and fulfilled in a service. The discussions in these pages draw upon biblical and rabbinic texts, kabbalistic tradition, and upon modern philosophers and contemporary writers. This volume will be useful to individual seekers and for classes on prayer and liturgy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Resource Publications
• Release date: Mar 24, 2021
• ISBN: 9781725295865

Paul J. Citrin

Paul J. Citrin has served various congregations as a rabbi over forty years. He is retired from the pulpit, but teaches in synagogues and community centers. He is the coauthor of Gates of Repentance for Young People (2002) and Ten Sheaves: A Collection of Sermons and Articles (2014), and editor of Lights in the Forest: Rabbis Respond to Twelve Essential Jewish Questions (2014).

Book preview

Introduction

Do you have a prayer life? The question may seem too personal, embarrassing or just perplexing to yield a specific answer. As I think back over forty-seven years as a rabbi, I don’t recall anyone asking me that question. If you can’t ask it of your rabbi, who can you ask? If you asked it of a fellow Jew, you might be met with a brush off or an eye roll. I would bet if you asked a Christian neighbor about his/her prayer life, you would likely get a comfortable and enthusiastic response.

If someone were to ask me about my prayer life, this would be my response: Throughout my life from pre-adolescence to the present, I have attended weekly Sabbath Services. Even before I became a rabbi, I relished being at Services for the beauty of the prayers, the engaging music, the intellectual stimulation of the sermon, and, of course, the social time in community.

As a rabbi, I conducted Sabbath eve and Shabbat (Hebrew for Sabbath) morning Services. People used to ask me how I could pray while leading Services, and worrying about cues and pages. It never was a problem for me. I found I could pray and lead Services because I wanted very much to bring the congregation along with me. Since my retirement in 2011, I have limited my Shabbat Service attendance to Saturday morning. After four decades of rushing through Friday evening dinner to get to synagogue, it feels like a precious Shabbat time to remain home with children, grandchildren, and guests at our table. We welcome Shabbat with the blessings, with song, and with my wife, Susan’s, heavenly home-baked challah. Shabbat morning is time for synagogue participation, taking stock of my life, learning, and seeing friends.

A handful of my Reform colleagues don tefillin (phylacteries) and tallit (prayer shawl) every morning to recite the daily prayers. I do not do so. Just prior to my first trip to Israel as a seventeen year old, our Hebrew school principal taught me to put on tefillin because he was sure I would be needed for a minyan (prayer quorum) as our El Al jet would greet the dawn over the Atlantic ocean. He was correct. The Orthodox men drafted me into their Service, and I had my borrowed tefillin, but talk about feeling alien! Over the years, I have worn tefillin on a few occasions, but it was never particularly comfortable for me. It did not have the potential to become a part of my routine. I attribute my lack of enthusiasm to an absence of role models and to the infrequency of such an experience in a Reform setting.

At home, Susan and I give thanks for our meal as we offer the Motzi blessing. Sometimes, when special moments occur in our lives, we sing Shehecheyanu to express our gratitude. On occasion, I may say the blessing upon seeing a rainbow or some other natural wonder.

On a nightly basis, before sleep, I recite Sh’ma. I do not claim that God does my bidding. What I am certain of is that my prayer reminds me of my concerns, commitments, and blessings. I conclude by affirming my trust in the sustaining Divine power in the world and within me. I do so by reciting the last stanza of Adon Olam in Hebrew. Here is my translation:

In God’s hands I entrust my spirit

Both when I sleep and when I wake.

Within my spirit and my body

The Eternal One is there for me.

I shall not fear.

By now, you may have an inkling that this volume is part personal prayer memoir. This book is not an academic or scholarly study. It is meant for the person I call the Jew in the pew, the average Jewish Service attender. It is even for the Jew who doesn’t find her or himself in the pew but on rare occasions. It may be helpful to any spiritual seeker as well. I hope, as I share some personal recollections and reflections, you will feel attracted to what I want to convey.

It is most likely beyond my ability to keep track of how often I have heard the following comments from congregants, friends, and family:

Services are boring.

I can’t relate to the prayers.

Services don’t touch me.

Some people sit in Services with their arms folded across their chest, and their books closed. Their body language conveys Ok, I’m here, now turn me on. I am quite sure that such a passive attitude cannot be overcome no matter how effective a rabbi is on the bimah (pulpit).

Because I am convinced about the crucial and enlivening value of studying the Jewish prayer idiom and aesthetic, I have given classes on prayer and the Siddur many times over the past twenty-five years. This book is inspired by my goal and desire to make Jewish prayer accessible and meaningful to contemporary Jews. The material I share with you in this book is based on class presentation, and students’ questions and ideas. It draws on topics and texts we have covered. I think you will find the contents herein to be a reliable guide to coming to terms with your own questions and feelings about Jewish prayer.

I must confess that there are two subjects which this book does not address beyond a couple of paragraphs: music and Hebrew. The first, music, is key to creating a moving and engaging Service. My precious friend, Murray Simon, with whom I shared the bimah for five years at Temple Israel of Boston, demonstrated through his loving nature and awesome tenor voice the epitome of a spiritual and inspiring cantor. He taught me there is welcome space for presentational music, and also ample opportunity for accessable melodies to bolster congregational participation. Rabbi Heschel was right when he said Prayer rises on wings of song (in an essay called The Vocation of the Cantor).

Reform synagogues have adopted the use of more Hebrew liturgy over the past two generations. For those who don’t know Hebrew or can’t read it, music is an ideal way to learn words, and to feel included. This is necessary because many of us understand that Hebrew has been the significant glue which binds our people here and now, and to past generations. Most congregations offer prayer book Hebrew in their adult education program. Rather than condemn the use of Hebrew, our precious linguistic heritage, it is a worthy effort to overcome illiteracy through study. It is an achievable goal, good for your heart and brain, and good for the Jewish people.

The title of this book is I Am My Prayer. I present to you now the source of the title and its meaning. The phrase comes and from Ma Tovu, more a poetic meditation than a prayer. Since the eleventh or twelfth century, Ma Tovu has been recited by worshippers upon entering the synagogue for a morning Service. Together with some other poems, it is intended to be a bridge from the thoughts of our daily life toward finding a prayerful mood. Its popularity is attested to by the numerous melodies by which it is sung in synagogues around the world. This is the text of Ma Tovu, which is a quilt of Biblical verses:

I

How lovely are your tents, O Jacob,

Your dwelling places, O Israel! (Numbers

24

:

5

)

In Your abundant lovingkindness, O God, (Psalm

5

:

8

)

Let me enter Your house reverently to worship

In Your holy temple.

II

Eternal One, I love Your house, (Psalm

26

:

8

)

The place where Your glory dwells.

Thus I worship, bend the knee and bow

Before the Eternal One, my Maker.

III

So, my prayer goes out to You, Eternal One (Psalm

69

:

14

)

May it be a time of favor.

O God, in Your lovingkindness

Answer me with Your saving truth.

Part I quotes Balaam, a pagan enemy of Israel. He sets out to curse Israel in its encampment on the border of the Promised Land. But God puts words of praise in Balaam’s mouth. Though a midrash¹ exclaims, better are the chastisements of one who loves Israel (i.e. Moses) than the praise of one’s enemy (Balaam), we celebrate the ideal beauty of Jewish community expressed by our detractor. In this section, we praise God for the divine kindness of being in God’s presence.

Part II continues the theme of joy in being in the synagogue. There, in seeking God, one finds blessing. One celebrates being a creature in the Creator’s presence.

Part three begins with the words va-ani tefilati, which I have translated as, my prayer goes out to You. Va-ani tefilati could well be translated as for me, this is my prayer. However, the words va-ani tefilati are really an idiom, not literal. The literal translation of va-ani tefilati is I am my prayer.. I am captivated by this rendering. It seems to suggest to me the very essence