dadwok

THE ATHEIST'S PRAYER BOOK

This five minute interview is best opened by clicking at this icon

All that needs to be introduced and commented upon with regard to THE ATHEIST'S PRAYER BOOK is apparaently removed from the BOOMP3 site, I have updated this blog by pasting it below the double-line*. The pasting includes the text of a story published in jcTimes.com

The interview itself does provide an opportunity to revisit our religious beliefs to check if they are in need of some interpretive expansion, refurbishment and inclusion, so others don't have to go through this anguished journey to reach a point where they have to pray and yet hold on to their conviction that there is no God.

I am reminded of an Aldous Huxley line: God manifests himself in his absence.

This. of course, is no news for smart Hindoos who are familiar with the Rope Trick.
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* This interview is worth listening.

Tzemah Yoreh, a Jewish Biblical scholar, the author of a prayer book for atheists describes his journey from orthodox Jewism to atheism, and now, finally to a point where he realizes the compelling need for secularized prayers.

BBC Reporting Religion's presenter, Alison Hilliard talks to this honest and reflective person about some very wonderful prayers, two which you can listen to on this clip.

Ms. Hilliard has come back to this program after a long hiatus.

Below the line is a report from the jc.com
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My prayerbook for atheists
15/06/2007
By Alex Stein

In Israel today, you will find secular rabbis, a secular yeshivah and even an attempt to develop a secular halachah. But Jewish alternatives do not come more alternative than Tzemah Yoreh’s project. The 29-year-old Israeli Bible scholar has created an atheist-feminist siddur.

An atheist’s prayerbook seems an oxymoron. Why would an atheist want to pray?

“The desire to seek things beyond our power is a universal one, and it’s not restricted to theists or atheists,” Tzemah answers. “One mode of expression is prayer, which is an expression of our deepest desires. Prayer is a way of voicing our will, something which only a community can do.”

Yoreh grew up in a traditional Jewish household. Religiously observant throughout his youth, he went to an Orthodox school followed by yeshivah and army service. But he had long harboured doubts and gradually stopped davening. “Atheism was a natural place to gravitate towards, because I was never really a believer, not even as a child.”

Unlike many others in his situation, he tried his best to form a relationship with the traditional liturgy. “In my teenage years I made sincere attempts to connect with the words,” he says, “but then there was a process of disassociation.” After taking a PhD in biblical scholarship at the Hebrew University, Yoreh joined the kollel (senior section) at Jerusalem’s Conservative Yeshivah. This forced him to confront the changes he had been going through over the previous years.

But he found it increasingly difficult to be the halachic role model that he was expected to be as a senior member of the community.

“I have a problem with the Conservative movement in general,” he says. “They feel that by giving women equality they have solved all the problems, but this is putting a plaster on a gaping wound, which is the discrepancy between modern liberal values and traditional prayer, which are two very different things. And this isn’t being addressed anywhere in the movement, even in the yeshivah, which is one of the best things out there.”

He began to scrutinise the content of the siddur, and found much of it wanting. He took his dilemma to the head of the yeshivah, who advised him to start composing his own prayers for the middle third of the Amidah. Although this approach was comforting, he felt that it did not go far enough.

“This was only a small portion of the liturgy. It felt like a token change. How much does it really mean if you’re saying everything else? I felt I had to take things to their natural conclusion.” And so, in late 2005, the atheist-feminist siddur was born.

The structure of his siddur follows the structure of traditional siddurim. All the parts are there — morning, afternoon and evening prayers. Biblical passages are left intact, with commentary alongside to provide context.

For example, the Shema is preceded with the following: “May favour be found in the recitation of these verses — a respectful echo of the belief of my ancestresses and ancestors, who devotedly worshipped Adonai. For although I cannot sing odes to a patriarchally imagined deity, as it says in the Torah (Deuteronomy 4:16): ‘Do not act corruptly by making an idol for yourselves, in the form of any figure — the likeness of male or female’, the tradition of my parents is carved in my heart in immutable letters.”

Every section (excluding the biblical passages) of the siddur is reworked to represent the author’s sensibilities. In traditional siddurim, the section before Yishtabach reads as follows: “For the Kingship is God’s and He rules over nations. Redeemers shall come from Mount Zion to rule over/judge (the inhabitants of) Mount Esau, and the Kingship shall be God’s. And God shall rule over the land, on that day God shall be one and His name shall be one.”

Yoreh’s version reads: “For human beings were meant to be kings, governors of their environment. Redeemers shall arise, saviours shall come. From Mount Zion and from among all peoples, they shall beat their swords into plowshares. They shall eradicate despotic government. On that day harmonious coexistence shall be realised.”

This is a truly comprehensive modern siddur, in contrast to other alternative siddurim, which are often inconsistent, for example by including the imahot (the four matriarchs), but leaving God in the masculine. “Even the most liberal movements have failed. I wanted a siddur in a rich Hebrew that was also comprehensive,” he says.

Yoreh argues that it is absurd for a siddur to suddenly stop developing. “A siddur should be anti-canonical. It should encourage people to experiment. It defeats the purpose of prayer to use it as a canon.” He uses his own siddur regularly, in a variety of contexts, and is assessing the comfort level of praying alongside people who are using more traditional siddurim. His re-working of Kiddush Levanah (the Blessing on the Moon) has received an airing in front of an egalitarian study-group. “The reactions have been overwhelmingly positive,” he says.

The first draft of the siddur was finished in September 2006; the dream is to get it published and to start an atheist-traditionalist minyan. Asked if he thinks it might be difficult to find takers, he replies: “Prayer is an expression of hope.” Even if you do not believe you are commanded to pray, he thinks it is valuable for everyone to articulate their values through ritual.

To be a traditionalist, even for an atheist, is to “value the cultural heritage I was raised upon”. This is why he still keeps Shabbat — not to do so “would tear a part out of myself”. Judaism does not have to be all or nothing. “It’s a negative dynamic to cut yourself off,” he says. In this sense, however radically, Tzemah Yoreh is truly following the path of his ancestresses and ancestors.