Recognition

Sometimes I wonder what I'm doing up there at the bima leading prayers. I do that fairly frequently as I, as a mourner, have a chiuv (obligation) to serve as the Shaliach Tzibur (prayer leader). That obligation will last about nine more months, until I am done saying kaddish.

One of my central questions raised in my previous blog, written during the year I was saying kaddish for my mother, Hilda Kessler, z'l, was exploring the nature of the obligation to lead prayers. (see shunted-aside and why-i-am-leading-prayers) Now this issue occupies my thoughts less often. Perhaps I worked through that issue during my previous round of mourning or perhaps I am simply more focused on other issues now, or some some combination of both.

I do, however, appreciate when my "work" as prayer leader is recognized. It's not easy job. There are issues of timing, pacing, pronunciation, nusach (form of prayer), making sure you skip prayers that are not recited on certain days, making sure you don't go too fast but don't go too slow. It's a skill. See growing up as a Jew).

A couple of days ago, I was asked to take over the prayer service after the preliminary prayers. There was a bris (circumcision) taking place after the service, made obvious by the presence of the Elijah's Chair, the change in location of the service to a larger space, as well as the double the number of people who usually show up for a Sunday 8:30 a.m. prayer service. As I began the repetition of the amidah prayer, the mohel, the man who performs the circumcision, came up to the bimah and started setting up. First he washed his hands with hand sanitizer. Its smell wafted over me as and as I mouthed the words of the prayer. He moved the chair around. Then he began laying out the tools of his trade, various metal objects whose function I could not exactly determine.

To say this was a distraction is an understatement. A part of me wanted to stop and tell him to get out of my space, for the bima feels like my personal when I'm up there leading prayers. But my more rational side, fortunately, got the best of me. I figured it if the rabbis had any problem with what was going on, they would intervene, and they seemed more preoccupied with the upcoming bris than with my repetition of the amidah. In fact, most of the people there were there just to witness the bris and probably wanted me to get done with the prayers as soon as possible. I, however, took the repetition slow, with the baby in mind, figuring I would prolong his repose before the moment of truth.

After I had finished, the mohel wasted no time resuming his place at the bimah. The show was about to begin. Everyone seemed happy to see me descend from the bimah to the extent they paid any attention to me. I returned to my seat and removed my tallit (prayer shawl) and tephilin. The brit was in full swing. Before I could leave the sanctuary the baby was complaining vociferously about his foreskin having just been removed.

This evening I led prayers again at the evening service. That's a much easier job. When I was done folding the tallit that the shul requires me to wear (that's unusual since most shuls you only have to wear a tallit for the morning and afternoon services) I was about to leave and go home when a man, a stranger to me, came up to the bima to shake my hand and say "yishar koach" (good job). I was very touched. These little gestures mean a lot to me. They make me feel appreciated. They are also a recognition that the reason I am leading prayers is to give honor to my father. I felt honored and that honor is owed to my father in whose memory I am leading prayers.