A Short Reflection on the Evolution of My Prayer Life in Jerusalem
(Picture note: I like to walk along this face of the city walls towards Mt. Zion and enter the Old City through the Zion Gate. This is the view. I am having a good year.) Something rather magical has been happening during my time here Israel , and it happens every time I open a siddur and every time I open my lips that I might declare G-d’s glory, as it were— I understand the language. Now maybe this is a silly statement. I mean, after all, our sages warn us of the dangers of praying words that have no meaning to us. Some of the most pious among us meditate seven seconds on every word in the Amidah —so my statement bears a little concern. Up until this time, I have escaped most concern by understanding that I was in a process of learning the language. Certainly none of us pop out of Mother’s womb fully intact as fluent comprehenders of the Holy Language. Surely I must be allotted some time to catch up for the thirty-some years I spent reading King James English as t...