A Word on Prayers

A Word on Prayers

Last night, the festival of Chanukah came to a close. In its way, Chanukah is unique among Jewish holidays. While many of the faith's observances last for several nights, none but Chanukah have an active ritual repeated on each of the nights. For those who diligently keep the customs of Chanukah this means lighting the Menorah eight times, a powerful sensory ritual. The sight of the flames, the smell of the smoke, even the motion of guiding the Shamas to each branch can evoke memories of childhood and of other Chanukahs past. We do these rituals not just because they are customs but because physical acts require enough concentration to focus us on the prayers and the feelings associated with the holiday. So, when we repeat the same prayers for eight successive nights, lent focus by the act of lighting the Menorah, it is natural for us to question what those prayers actually mean. We are a people who often pray in an ancient language that most of us can't speak. We frequently don't even know the literal translations, let alone the layers of meaning underneath. On Chanukah we say two prayers every time we light the Menorah and a third prayer on the first night only. On the first night, in addition to the two others, we say the Shehechianu, a prayer said at all occasions of firsts or of new things. The other two prayers are: Blessed are you, Adonai our God, King of the Universe Who makes us holy with the Mitzvah we do When we light the lights of Chanukah (amen) And Blessed are you, Adonai our God, King of the Universe Who did miracles for our fathers on this day at this time (amen) So, why are our prayers structured like this? Why do almost all Jewish prayers begin with the same line? Is there a purpose to the repetition of placing all the honor on God? There are several layers of answers to these questions. First, the structure of Hebrew prayers is essentially standardized. It is a result of the Rabbinic Age in which we live. When Jerusalem was sacked by the Roman Empire the Temple was destroyed and the Jews were forced to scatter across the world. In order for the Jewish faith to survive and Jews to stay connected to one another regardless of where they lived, the prayers of our ancient heritage were standardized. As for why the majority of Hebrew prayers open with the same line, it is part of one of the faith's central tenets. In the Torah and in all liturgy afterward, Judaism has attempted to avoid placing too much honor or power on individual people. The responsibility and the glory almost always goes either to God or to the entire community as a whole. When we light the Chanukah candles, we do not honor Judah Maccabee or any other individual because the holiday isn't supposed to be a time of ancestor worship. By placing the honor on God we allow hope and power to exist in the present day and out of the hands of anyone who could possibly be corrupted by such power. We also place so much focus on community not just to keep others from becoming arrogant, but also to keep us focused on what really matters. These holidays are nothing if we don't share them with others because these holidays don't exist in a vacuum, cut off from the rest of our lives. However ornate or archaic the wording, these two prayers above say simple things. They can be easily translated into more concise language. "It is a good and happy thing to light Chanukah candles" and "A wonderful thing happened a long time ago. We're so happy we can celebrate it together today." In order to make an ancient religion relevant to our modern lives, we must come to a colloquial understanding of what our prayers mean. By keeping the text of those prayers the same across the ages, we allow each generation to come to its own understanding of their meaning. It is a Mitzvah, a good and holy thing, to contemplate prayers and what they mean. If it sounds old, stuffy or irrelevant, chances are you just aren't modernizing your interpretation.