I knew that when I became an avel, one subject to the Jewish laws of mourning, that it would alter my awareness of the passage of time. This was evident in the dvar Torah that I wrote for MIT Hillel a few months back:
We mourn someone whose days have reached their final number, and we count seven days, and thirty days, and eleven months, and a year.
What I hadn't anticipated was the way my time awareness would also change regarding hours, minutes, and seconds.
My life for the next year will revolve around attending synagogue services morning and evening. The morning services are all at roughly the same time on weekdays, but the afternoon services are scheduled to begin about 15 minutes before sunset (so that we can then take a brief pause and start the evening services a minute after sunset). So I will be watching the hours.
But what I really wanted to write about this week is my awareness of minutes and seconds. There's always a tension during services because everyone is able to daven at a different speed. Many of those who can daven faster don't want things to drag out longer than what they see as necessary; those who daven slower --- by need or by preference --- don't want to feel rushed. As shaliach tzibbur, the leader of the services, I have to strike the right balance.
The problem is that it's hard to tell what the right balance is. I'm standing in front of the room, with my back to everyone. I can pick out a few people's voices, and try to pace myself by them, but it's hard to judge whether I've picked the right people.
And while I've gotten quite proficient over the years, I still have some lingering "impostor syndrome". I didn't grow up davening daily. If I go too slowly, will they know the truth about me, that I'm not as knowledgeable as I appear? If I go too fast, will I trip over my tongue, and will people categorize me as someone who is merely going through the motions but completely lacking in kavanah, in devotional meaning?
So I've been doing this now for a little over a week at my home shul. And on Friday, I got called out on it. After davening, someone whose opinion I value highly took me aside and pointed out, quite kindly, that I'd been getting a little faster every day, and I was now going so fast that it was uncomfortable for him. Someone else pointed out that in a 30-minute service, if I end two minutes early, that's over six percent faster --- which is a disproportionate burden on those who don't want to rush, while getting out two minutes later is not a disproporionate burden on those who want to get home and have breakfast.
I was grateful to them for addressing the issue. This morning, I went at my natural pace, instead of worrying about each second on the clock. And what do you know? I ended at a reasonable time (within 40 seconds of our target end time, instead of 2 minutes early). More importantly, I made fewer mistakes, and the person who had approached me on Friday came over to tell me it was much better today.
The lesson is: I have to watch the seconds, and let the year take care of itself.
We mourn someone whose days have reached their final number, and we count seven days, and thirty days, and eleven months, and a year.
What I hadn't anticipated was the way my time awareness would also change regarding hours, minutes, and seconds.
My life for the next year will revolve around attending synagogue services morning and evening. The morning services are all at roughly the same time on weekdays, but the afternoon services are scheduled to begin about 15 minutes before sunset (so that we can then take a brief pause and start the evening services a minute after sunset). So I will be watching the hours.
But what I really wanted to write about this week is my awareness of minutes and seconds. There's always a tension during services because everyone is able to daven at a different speed. Many of those who can daven faster don't want things to drag out longer than what they see as necessary; those who daven slower --- by need or by preference --- don't want to feel rushed. As shaliach tzibbur, the leader of the services, I have to strike the right balance.
The problem is that it's hard to tell what the right balance is. I'm standing in front of the room, with my back to everyone. I can pick out a few people's voices, and try to pace myself by them, but it's hard to judge whether I've picked the right people.
And while I've gotten quite proficient over the years, I still have some lingering "impostor syndrome". I didn't grow up davening daily. If I go too slowly, will they know the truth about me, that I'm not as knowledgeable as I appear? If I go too fast, will I trip over my tongue, and will people categorize me as someone who is merely going through the motions but completely lacking in kavanah, in devotional meaning?
So I've been doing this now for a little over a week at my home shul. And on Friday, I got called out on it. After davening, someone whose opinion I value highly took me aside and pointed out, quite kindly, that I'd been getting a little faster every day, and I was now going so fast that it was uncomfortable for him. Someone else pointed out that in a 30-minute service, if I end two minutes early, that's over six percent faster --- which is a disproportionate burden on those who don't want to rush, while getting out two minutes later is not a disproporionate burden on those who want to get home and have breakfast.
I was grateful to them for addressing the issue. This morning, I went at my natural pace, instead of worrying about each second on the clock. And what do you know? I ended at a reasonable time (within 40 seconds of our target end time, instead of 2 minutes early). More importantly, I made fewer mistakes, and the person who had approached me on Friday came over to tell me it was much better today.
The lesson is: I have to watch the seconds, and let the year take care of itself.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-19 03:31 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-19 05:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-19 08:47 pm (UTC)I heard a story about a shul where someone complained to the Rabbi about X, who davened too slowly. The Rabbi replied: "does he daven slower than Moses, who prayed for 40 days for forgiveness after the golden calf?". Someone else complained about Y, who davened too quickly. "Does he daven faster than Moses, who when he prayed for Miriam's recovery finished in less than a minute?".
Bottom line: If your shul has guidelines, follow them. Otherwise, do what feels natural to you, knowing that no mater what speed you daven at, someone's going to be annoyed. But you can't please everyone.