Thursday, September 20, 2012

Why I Don't Like Prayer

This year, I didn't go to synagogue over Rosh Hashanah. Does that mean I'm a terrible person? I hope not. It just means that I've finally and truly given in and admitted that prayer simply doesn't do it for me. I don't like it. I never have.

Of course, I couldn't keep this epiphany to myself so I wrote a piece that is up over at Jewcy called, "Shul's Out For Rosh Hashanah."

Here's a snippet:


At times, however, I took a grim satisfaction in surviving the service as though I had run some sort of liturgical marathon. Back at school after the holidays, we’d boast to one another about how long our davening lasted. The winners (and losers) were the ones who didn’t get to eat lunch until it was practically time for seniors in Florida to get their early bird specials. (This same sort of competition was applied to Passover seders. Eating dinner before midnight was a sign of impiety.) In Orthodox Judaism, as in my beloved sport of gymnastics, your grit is measured by how much suffering you can endure.

You can read the rest (which includes a quote from Buffy) over here.

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