10 Minutes of Torah: Delving into T’filah has been in development for several years as the Reform Movement prepared for the publication of Mishkan T’filah by the Central Conference of American Rabbis. When many congregations piloted Mishkan T’filah, they included discussions of liturgy and prayer in the process. Questions continue to be raised regarding the role of prayer, both communal and private, the meaning of specific prayers, the relationship between liturgy and modern theological concepts and the connection between the written liturgy and how it is articulated in communal worship. Delving into T’filah is designed to open the world of Jewish liturgy to the readers of 10 Minutes of Torah.

Throughout our history, Jewish liturgy has expanded and developed based upon the needs of the Jewish people. While the Temple was in existence the kohein, the priest, was the conduit of the people’s prayers through his performance of ritual sacrifice. After the destruction of the Second Temple, the rabbis of the rabbinic period began to develop the framework of our communal worship. This framework is what eventually became the siddur, the order in which the liturgy is recited or prayerbook. Since that time, the contents of Jewish prayerbooks have become codified so that, in theory, an individual can open any siddur and find the same basic prayers and prayer order. The least variation, from siddur to siddur, is found in the Hebrew texts. The greatest distinctions between various siddurim are found in the English translations and interpretative texts which reflect each movement’s history, philosophy and theology.

As Rabbis Elyse Frishman and Peter Knobel explain in the Introduction to Mishkan T’filah.

In any worship setting, people have diverse beliefs. The challenge of a single liturgy is to be not only multi-vocal, but poly-vocal—to invite full participation at once, without conflicting with the keva text. (First, the keva text must be one that is acceptable; hence, the ongoing adaptations of certain prayers, over time, such as the G’vurot). Jewish prayer invites interpretation; the left hand material was selected both for metaphor and theological diversity. The choices were informed by the themes of Reform Judaism and Life: Social justice, feminism, Zionism, distinctiveness, human challenges. The heritage of Reform brings gems from the Union Prayer Book and from Gates of Prayer, as well as from Reform’s great literary figures over the last century and more.

Theologically, the liturgy needs to include many perceptions of God: the transcendent, the naturalist, the mysterious, the partner, the evolving God. In any given module of prayer, e.g., the Sh’ma and Blessings, we should sense all of these ways. The distinction of an integrated theology is not that one looks to each page to find one’s particular voice, but that over the course of praying, many voices are heard, and ultimately come together as one. The ethic of inclusivity means awareness of and obligation to others rather than mere self-fulfillment.

An integrated theology communicates that the community is greater than the sum of its parts. While individuals matter deeply, particularly in the sense of our emotional and spiritual needs and in the certainty that we are not invisible, that security should be a stepping stone to the higher value of community, privilege and obligation. We join together in prayer because together, we are stronger and more apt to commit to the values of our heritage. Abraham knew that just ten people make a difference. In worship, all should be reminded of the social imperatives of community.

Week 1 An explanation of the historical and literal meaning of the Hebrew text written by Rabbi Richard Sarason

Week 2 A personal reflection on the same prayer but with a focus on the interpretative material on the left-hand page of Mishkan T’filah written by various Reform Jews..

Week 3 An understanding of the Hebrew prayer text through a specific musical setting chosen by the writer, written by members of the American Conference of Cantors.

The development of 10 Minutes of Torah: Delving into T’filah has brought together scholars, clergy and lay leaders from our Movement to explore the potential of prayer and its meaning for us today. This series is a combined project of the Joint Commission on Worship, Music and Religious Living, the Union’s Adult Learning Department and the American Conference of Cantors. The Central Conference of American Rabbis has granted permission for the links to Mishkan T’filah for which we are grateful.

Mah Tovu Part 1 by Rabbi Edwin Goldberg

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On the left side of the two-page spread in MishkanT'filah (p. 193 in the Shabbat Morning Service I), we are given an alternative reading. It is short enough to cite in full:

May the One whose spirit is with us in every righteous deed, be with all who work for the good of humanity and bear the burdens of others, and who give bread to the hungry, who clothe the naked, and take the friendless into their homes. May the work of their hands endure, and may the seed they sow bring abundant harvest.

How does this prayer differ than the traditional text? The traditional Mah Tovu presents the worshipper as humble supplicant, bowing low and hoping for God’s deliverance. The new reading reflects a perspective of strength rather than humility. Instead of beseeching God out of a place of relative worthlessness, we recognize that we have the potential to perform many Mitzvot and thereby improve the world. We ask for God’s help in efforts already begun. We are far from helpless supplicants. In these words, we are more like able partners of God.

In The inclusion of this prayer on the “left side” of the two-page spread is no accident. Its words reflect a “non-traditional” theology. Instead of a straight hierarchy in which God is “on high” and we are “down low” -- so to speak – we get what might be called a “theology of human adequacy” (see p. ix of the Introduction to MishkanT'filah). In other words, we celebrate our “partnership” with God, albeit an unequal one, and focus on what we can achieve.

The great thing about MishkanT'filah is that such different theologies can exist literally on the same page. The careful reader/worshipper can find many ways to think about God and ourselves in the pages of our new siddur, even if the emphasis on ethical action and social justice is particularly strong, as it is in our alternative prayer for Mah Tovu.

In short, Mah Tovu reminds us that we have goodness inside of us. The theology of our alternative reading celebrates that goodness.

Rabbi Edwin Goldbergis the Rabbi of Temple Judea of Coral Gables and a member of the Commission on Worship, Music and Religious Living.

Mah Tovu Part 2 by Cantor David Margules

Mah Tovuohalecha yaakov mishk’notecha yisrael.

“How goodly are your tents of Jacob, your dwelling places O Israel.”

These words flow out of Balaam’s mouth at the summit of the height that overlooks the wasteland where the Hebrews are encamped. It is the third time that Balak has tried to get Balaam to curse the Israelites and yet out of Balaam’s mouth comes a blessing. Balak’s trepidation with the Hebrew clan is familiar to us from earlier Biblical narratives: fear that the Hebrews will rise up against him. Once again, the chosen people are delivered by the Eternal.

This dramatic scene from the book of Numbers 24:5, has long been a favorite text for synagogue composers to set to music and has become a mainstay of the morning liturgy as part of the introductory material in the Birchot Hashachar, Morning Blessings. (Mishkan T'filah, p. 192).

Simply reciting these words could never express the deeper emotional meaning they convey, nor the dramatic physical and spiritual moment during which Balaam first uttered them.

Let’s take a look at several musical settings and explore how the melody, instrumentation, harmony, tempo, rhythm, and dynamics bring this highly theatrical moment to life.

Danny Maseng included Mah Tovu as part of his larger work “Soul on Fire,” (circa 1999) and it has become a familiar musical setting across America in synagogues on Shabbat morning (Listen). Part of its allure is that the refrain is at once tuneful and singable by the congregation after just one verse. The setting calls for five vocal parts including, a solo voice, as well as soprano, alto, tenor, and bass accompanied by piano, guitar, bass, and drums. It is possible to perform the piece with just a melody line and piano or guitar. The verses build up the drama and the refrain keeps the excitement growing by modulating up a whole step after the third verse. The choral parts add some antiphonal touches as well as harmonic and rhythmic interest to the piece. Acquiring the sheet music or a compact disc of this setting is easily done at either urj.org or dannymaseng.com.

Louis Lewandowski’s setting of Mah Tovu was written some time before 1894 and was published by Metro Music in New York. This setting can also be found in the “Out of Print Classics” reissued by Sacred Music Press and later printed by Transcontinental Music in New York (Listen). It is considered one of our classic choral masterpieces demonstrating the height of Western Europe’s influence on synagogue music of that era. Lewandowski uses two techniques together to draw out the drama. First, he slows both the tempo and harmonic changes down through the last eight bars of the piece as if waiting for the Eternal to answer our plea for deliverance. In addition, each vocal line employs a number of chromatics (sharps and flats) that add color to the melody line.

William Sharlin arranged a Chabad folk setting of Mah Tovu for three voices, which can also be done as a solo. This piece begins as a niggun, easily learned by the congregation. The main melody line can accommodate all the verses, and the niggun may be sung as the refrain (Listen).

Jeffrey Klepper’s Mah Tovu setting became very popular throughout the Reform Jewish Camping Movement and is often used during religious school t’fillot services as well as regular Shabbat morning services (Listen). This work can easily be sung in two-part harmony. According to Jeff, Mah Tovu is the first song he wrote on his own while his writing partner Danny Freelander was at seminary in Israel. He wrote the piece in 1974 while he attended the Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion in New York and it became very popular and well known on a NFTY record album. The first interval of a minor third gives the song a modal and Eastern sound and feel. The move in the chorus to a major key sounds like the sun rising, making the song a great opener for Shabbat morning services. The sheet music may be found in The Complete Shireinu, p. 237. For more information on Jeff’s music check out jeffklepper.com.

David Margules is the cantor of Congregation Rodef Sholom in San Rafael, CA.

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Remen reflects on this later in life, as she struggles with disease and pain, and finds meaning in it that struck me as I read the settings of Asher Yatzar. In response to the Jacob story she concludes, “It is a puzzling story, a story about the nature of blessings and the nature of enemies. How tempting to let the enemy go and flee. To put the struggle behind you as quickly as possible and get on with your life. Life might be easier then but far less genuine. Perhaps the wisdom lies in engaging the life you have been given as fully and courageously as possible and not letting go until you find the unknown blessing that is in everything.”

I have been fortunate to have been healthy and significantly pain free for most of my life. Yet I encounter theologians, mystics, physicians, congregants and friends who have struggled with illness, or with bodies that fail when the mind is strong, and have found such deep courage, strength, and meaningful connections to the Divine through this process. And I often find myself questioning my ability to have a similar deep relationship with God without having gone through such a struggle. I am particularly struck when I read the line, “were one of them to fail – how well we are aware!” we would lack the strength to stand before you.” As clergy, I am aware of this empirically, but not with first hand knowledge. Yet, why then, do I find myself reciting this daily blessing of real appreciation and gratitude – not only for my own continued health, but for the miracle that is the human body?

Some days – the second selection calls to me. I fear those moments of weakness; I know that failures of systems or health are inevitable in all our lives. So I find myself deeply responding to this idea, that though “I have asked for so much”, please God, don’t let me feel the pain and the defeat.

Years ago, I wrote a paper on the theologies of illness and healing for a class with Dr. Eugene Borowitz.Writing the paper reminded me of an old Judging Amy episode, in which Amy’s close friend is in remission from cancer, and tells Amy that she has found God. Amy is incredulous, seeing as her friend was the most “intelligent and rational” person she knows. Amy asks her friend, laughingly, “You don’t really think God cured you, do you?” The friend responded, “No. The medicine and hospital care cured me. But God was there.”

I’m challenged by this idea because the idea of “finding God” in a moment of distress sounds the alarm of “religion” and “fundamentalism”. However, when Amy says to another co-worker, “Can you believe it – my friend found God?” He replied, “I didn’t know He was lost.” I remember being caught off-guard by this. Maybe it’s less about finding God, as being able to take a look at your life in such a way that you notice that God was there all along. Like Jacob, as I have struggled with my faith, though I’ve doubted my ability to “find faith” if I am not ill, my search has led me to recognize the faith that might have been there, bamakom hazeh, in this place, all along.

Rosalie Boxt is the cantor of Temple Emanuel of Kensington, MD.

Asher Yatsar, Mishkan T’filah, p.195. Cantor David Berger

As you might suspect, I love to sing. I love to stretch my voice, feeling out the higher range and the lower range and everything in between. Singing is like working out: you warm up before you start, you work to increase skill and ability over time, and you develop a deeper connection with the workings of your body that make the whole thing possible. The foundation of both is breath. The same breath that helps pull you through one more sit-up can also get you through one more measure of music. In fact, whatever it is that we do depends on the intricate workings of our bodies, and we must express gratitude that any of this is even possible.

Debbie Friedman’s setting of Asher Yatzar is an opportunity to express that gratitude. It can, she told me, be performed as a stand alone piece, but it was meant to be sung in combination with her Elohai N’shamah. The two melodies are intertwined, giving thanks for both body and spirit. Debbie is also quick to point out that immediately following the singing should be the blessing for Torah study “La’asok b’divrei Torah,” including the mind and intellect in our morning ritual.

The melody itself extends over a large range, as if to test out the limits of the vocal instrument. Most people’s best vocal moments are not usually early in the morning – so in Birchot Hashachar (the morning blessings) this sort of testing takes on a special significance. We not only thank God in general for “n’kavim n’kavim chalulim chalulim;” (“systems of ducts and tubes”) but we also work to reestablish connections with parts of the body through the singing itself.

Our inner connections are so fragile. We work hard to stay healthy but there are no guarantees. In one moment, our lives can change completely. As the text of the prayer puts it: “She-im yipate’ach echad meihem...” “If one of these things [that should be closed] should open... ” it would be impossible to function as we did before. We get a strange pain in our foot and just walking around becomes a challenge or we raise our voices to sing and nothing comes out. Deep down we know that one small thing going wrong inside can make everything on the outside simply impossible.

I have spent a lot of time in hospital rooms visiting my congregants. Sometimes these places of physical healing can do just the opposite to the spirit. Lying in bed all day while people check your charts and work with machinery around you can be dehumanizing. It is sometimes all too easy to forget that what makes us human is not just a beating heart. What I love about Debbie Friedman’s setting of this asher yatzar prayer is that in pairing it with the Elohai n’shamah she has taught us an important lesson (Listen). No matter what our physical condition, our spirit is there and it is pure. You, God, created our physical bodies – and they are not always so perfect. At the same time, You, God, created a soul for each one of us that remains in its pure pristine state – unalterable. Whereas the body is subject to things that may open or close at random, the soul is newly cleansed every day. It is so important to remind ourselves of this fact, especially when the physical body is having trouble and we feel like we’ve lost track of our soul. It is still there – it is still pure. Where Debbie’s setting of this prayer is simultaneously a vocal, spiritual and musical work out, some days you just want to notice that your body works. The traditional nusach (Listen) for Shabbat morning makes simple recitation of the text the priority. There is a special Torah in this also. We can teach ourselves to be thankful for the amazing gifts of the ordinary and to find opportunities to just say a quick thank you..

Whether you are preparing for a workout, needing some serious spiritual affirmation, or just reminding yourself that things seem to be working, take a minute, breathe, and notice all those inside things that keep you moving through your day. Say (or sing) asher yatzar and say thank you.

Cantor David Berger was invested by the Hebrew Union College- Jewish Institute of Religion in 2007. He serves Congregation Beth Simchat Torah of NewYork, NY.

ELOHAI N’SHAMAH:FOR OUR SOULS,Mishkan T'filah,p.196-197 Richard Sarason

After praising God for the intricate workings of our bodies, we give thanks for the return of our souls— of our consciousness—each morning upon awakening. This blessing also derives from the Babylonian Talmud, B’rachot 60b, where it is prescribed as the very first thing to say every day upon waking up, while still in bed. The text reads as follows:

Upon awakening, one should say: O God, the soul which You have put in me is pure. You fashioned it within me; You breathed it into me, and You preserve it within me. You will remove it from me at some future time, and You will restore it to me in the future age. As long as the soul remains within me, I will give You thanks, Adonai my God and God of my fathers, Sovereign of all worlds, Master of all souls. Praised be You, Adonai, who restores souls to dead bodies.

Immediately before this text in the Talmud is a prayer to be recited before going to bed at night, that is, before letting go of consciousness. This prayer includes the requests that “bad dreams not trouble me . . .and lighten my eyes [in the morning], lest I sleep the sleep of death.”The blessing upon awakening thus responds directly to this last concern with gratitude that our consciousness, our soul, has returned to us.

Our rabbinic ancestors viewed sleep as an analogue to, and anticipation of, death (“Sleep is one- sixtieth of death;” B’rachot 57b), because it involves a loss of consciousness and mobility.In sleep, the soul was thought to detach itself from the body and have its own independent experiences (dreams). Awakening was experienced as the return of the soul to the body. The language of our blessing reflects these ideas: sleep anticipates death, and awakening anticipates (and provides a basis for belief in) the resurrection of the dead. Thus, the chatimah, or peroration, of this blessing—“who restores souls to dead bodies”—refers to both waking up in the morning and resurrection of the dead, the ultimate “waking up.”

Problems with this traditional understanding of death and resurrection led reformers to alter this blessing in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. German-language paraphrases of the (unaltered) Hebrew in many nineteenth-century prayer books omit all references to resurrection and deal only with the present experience of awakening each morning. The first (1895) Union Prayer Book and subsequent revisions give this blessing only in English. The first reference to resurrection is rephrased to refer instead to the soul’s immortality: “ . . .Thou hast preserved it in this body and, at the appointed time, Thou wilt take it from this earth that it may enter upon life everlasting.” The chatimah is changed to: “Praised be Thou, O God, in whose hands are the souls of all the living and the spirits of all flesh;” the language is drawn from Job 12:10—“In His hand is every living soul and the breath of all humankind.” Gates of Prayer (1975) restores the Hebrew text, but eliminates (in both Hebrew and English) the phrases referring to death and resurrection. The chatimah of the UPB is retained, now given in Hebrew as well. The wording of this blessing in Mishkan T’filah is identical with that in GOP.

In recent years, this blessing has become a favorite for musical settings, perhaps because of the renewed interest in spirituality, with its emphasis on the non-material aspects of our lives. In any case, this blessing—like the ones before and after it in the prayer book—requires us to focus on those things that we too often take for granted until we lose them: the miracle of waking up each morning and our return to consciousness, the intricate workings of our bodies. Proper attention to these daily miracles should elicit from us constant feelings of gratitude. And this is authentic Jewish piety.

For further reading

Dalia Sara Marx, “The Morning Ritual (Birkhot Hashahar) in the Talmud: The Reconstitution of One’s Body and Personal Identity through the Blessings,” Hebrew Union College Annual 77 (2006), forthcoming.

Jakob J. Petuchowski, “Modern Misunderstandings of an Ancient Benediction,” in Petuchowski, Studies in Modern Theology and Prayer (Philadelphia, 1998), 183-191

David H. Ellenson, “Modern Liturgies,” in My People’s Prayer Book: Traditional Prayers, Modern Commentaries (ed. Lawrence A. Hoffman), vol. 5: Birkhot Hashahar (Morning Blessings) (Woodstock, VT, 2001), 134

Elohai N’shamah, Mishkan T’filah, p.196-197 Cantor David E. Reinwald

The prayer Elohai N'shamah is written with a unique element that has always been a favorite of mine. A rare dageish (dot within the letter) appears at the end of each of the words “v’ratah,” “y’tzartah,” “n’fachtah,” and “m’shamrah” notably in the Heh, a letter not generally prone to receiving this diacritical mark. Linguistically, this changes the Heh from a silent letter at the end of the word to one that is vocalized by an exhaling breath. In a prayer that is essentially about the breath given to and within us all, this daghesh makes the prayer practically interpret itself. There is nothing more calming than taking and releasing a deep breath, and here that breathing is built right into the text. The idea of release and rejuvenation is the essential idea for all of us stemming from Elohai N'shamah and the mood its musical settings create for us.

Elohai Neshamah happens to be one of my favorite prayers among those that comprise the morning blessings. There is something incredibly refreshing about this prayer, and this freshness is well represented in many of its musical settings. There are three settings that I use quite often. They are by Cantor Eliyahu Schleifer, Debbie Friedman, and Rabbi Shefa Gold..

Cantor Schleifer, my esteemed teacher and teacher to generations of cantors, wrote his setting in 1988. This setting of the prayer sets the entire text of the prayer through its chatimah. The setting opens with a cantorial solo, which upon reaching the text “atah v’ratah, atah y’tzartah, atah n’fachtah bi” builds to greater intensity on each “atah” phrase. We hear the notes get higher and we too are lifted in sensibility as the text speaks of God’s nurturing of our souls: “You created it. You shaped it, You breathed it into me...” The melody then concludes itself modestly in the final phrase, “V’atah m’sham’rah b’kirbi,”—“and You protect it within me.” Cantor Schleifer’s setting of the text invites the congregation to join in a rhythmic response on “Modeh/Modah ani l’faneicha . . .” as all who are present proclaim together their thanks for this divine gift. The setting then returns to the cantorial solo to conclude the piece, containing an equal balance of artistic and dramatic rendering of the text alongside congregational participation (Listen).

Noted singer and songwriter Debbie Friedman has set this text beautifully as well. Her melody, also composed in 1988, is incredibly relaxing, clearly deriving its inspiration directly from this remarkable prayer. While her setting only includes the text through “m’sham’rah b’kirbi,” Friedman has similarly set the “atah” phrases, so that each one builds on the next. Where she differs from Schleifer is that the final phrase receives the highest notes in the line, and concludes as the pinnacle point before returning to the opening chorus. The melody really draws one in tojoin in singing, as it calmly captivates (Listen).

Rabbi Shefa Gold, a rabbi in the Renewal movement, has composed many modern chants for prayers, and it is with her chant for Elohai N'shamah that I end. Of the three melodies I have discussed, hers uses the most simplified selection of text—only the very first line. The two part chant is simple, and yet sounds incredibly intricate when the parts are sung against each other. The parts complement each other melodically and harmonically. The simple ability to sing a melody for a chant like this allows one’s mind to quickly use the music to arrive at a place of focused meditation on the text (Listen).

Through these three different settings of the same prayer, we can clearly see that it is possible to arrive at a meditative and prayerful place through singing something simply as an entire congregation, or by being shown the way as we listen intently to the artistry of the cantor.

Cantor David E. Reinwald served Congregation Beth Israel in Austin, TX, and now servse Temple Anshe Sholom in Olympia Fields, IL.