As your cantor, I like to think of my unofficial role as one who gets sweet, Jewish melodies stuck in your head. Nothing makes me happier than hearing people singing along with me (like I have heard so many of you do this summer during our beautiful outdoor services) or hearing that a melody has remained with someone for days or weeks or months after listening to it. More officially, however, I see my role and my rabbinical partners’ roles as being both teachers and facilitators of worship—humble, friendly guides along that ever-difficult, often quiet, mystical, and sometimes lonely road to discovering prayer and approaching God.
There is a great Talmudic teaching from our tradition, one that says that the pious ones of old used to wait at least an hour before praying, so that they could take extra time to concentrate their minds on their prayers (Mishnah Berachot 5). I love knowing that the ancient rabbis themselves understood how challenging prayer can be, how a sweet melody can sweeten our day but might not always be everything we need to help us unlock the innermost yearnings of our hearts. I deeply believe that music can create the space for us to dive into prayer, but we, each of us, must do the work and commit the time to figuring out what it is that we most deeply want to share with God, with others, with ourselves.
Today, we may not have the luxury of time that our ancient rabbis did to take that extra hour to prepare to pray—now that our world is opening up more, we are faced with so many options and choices and some days it feels like our time is stretched so thin. But there is such merit in making time and creating space in our lives for the sounds and feelings of prayer where all the other noises of our lives are quiet. It can be as simple as setting a few minutes aside from our phones for deep breaths, or it could look like tuning into or joining for a 45-minute Shabbat service, or perhaps you are able to set aside a whole hour just for reflection, stretching, meditation, music, worship, just space for to tap into the prayers mulling inside you. Perhaps prayer might even begin with a question: Are there ways in which I would like to grow or get more involved in the community? Are there relationships to tend or mend, something that needs to be revisited or finished?
The great rebbe of Tsanz was asked by a student once: what does the rabbi do before praying? I pray, he replied, that I may be able to pray with my whole heart.
Wishing you a week of good health, of peace, and hopefully, at the very least, a few moments of sweet music and a chance to focus your heart towards prayer, however that might look for you.
Shavua tov.
— Cantor Emma Lutz