By Rabbi Carl M. Perkins:

Parashat Pinchas
July 19, 2003

Chapter 28 of the book of B’midbar (Numbers) presents the array of sacrifices offered in ancient Israel. First described are the tmidim offerings (vv 3-8).

These are offered twice each day, at dawn and at dusk. Then, the Shabbat offering is described. It is made clear that this is to be in addition to the regular (tamid) daily offerings (vv 9-10). Then the new moon (Rosh Hodesh) offering is described (vv 11-15). Finally, the holiday offerings, beginning with Pesach in the springtime (vv 16-25), and continuing through to Sukkot in the fall (29: 12-38), are described.

While the Temple still stood, these offerings were made in their proper time each and every day of the year. Note how concerned the text seems to be with offerings being made at the proper time: “Be punctilious in presenting to Me at stated times the offerings of food due Me, as gifts of pleasing odor to Me.” (28:2).

But once the Temple had been destroyed, this was no longer possible. The period immediately following the destruction of the Second Temple was critically important for the subsequent history of Judaism. Decisions made at that time would have millennial consequences. The sages of the Jewish people could have decided that what was, was. And that, in the absence of a Temple, one simply could not continue to do what was done there. But instead, they decided to try to incorporate into the daily life of the average Jew as much as they could of Temple rite and ritual.

A beautiful example of this is the way in which they dealt with the loss of the opportunity to offer sacrifices—perhaps the most obvious public and critical function of the Temple. Rather than simply bemoaning that fact—which they were certainly willing to do—they also insisted that every Jew had the opportunity—indeed, the duty—to serve God in a comparable, if not equivalent, manner, namely by offering up “words rather than oxen.”

Henceforth, they decreed, Jews would recite a collection of blessings (known generally as “the prayer” or “the amidah”) at the times when, previously, priests would have offered sacrifices in the Temple. Thus, each and every morning, and each and every evening, Jews would recite an amidah. These came to be referred to as the Shaharit and the Minhah prayers. Later, an evening recitation became obligatory as well; this was understood to correspond with the burning of the fat and of the limbs of the sacrificial animals, which took place every night during the days of the Temple. In addition, on every Shabbat, Rosh Hodesh and festival, an additional amidah would be recited (just as an additional offering would be made on those days during the time that the Temple still stood).

The rabbis thus carried out a remarkable revolution: in place of a hereditary caste of experts (i.e., priests) carrying out an elaborate set of rituals in one particular place on the face of the earth, each and every Jew would be reciting words that had the same effect of fulfilling God’s command to present offerings or gifts at propitious times. Thus, the system of Jewish worship, the liturgy of Jewish prayer became fixed approximately 2,000 years ago; and it has remained remarkably fixed ever since then.

There is, though, one serious problem with this system that all of us probably are, and if we are not, we should be, aware of. And that is that “reciting prayers”—as we’re supposed to do three times a day, with additional recitations on Shabbat and holidays—out of a sense of duty or obligation, is not the same thing—it can’t be the same thing—as reciting the “words of our mouths and the meditations of our hearts” out of the natural desire of the human being to express his or her innermost concerns, fears, desires and ideals.

In other words, holding regular worship services has preserved the Jewish conception that each and every time the day begins or ends is a worthy time to praise God, but it hasn’t necessarily furthered the use of these opportunities for pouring out our hearts to God—not out of a sense of duty, but out of a sense of desire.

As some of you know, I recently came back from a two-week stay in Israel. During that time, I participated in the Shalom Hartman Rabbinic Study Program, in which fifty or so rabbis from North America came to Jerusalem to study and learn together. One of the participants is my colleague Rabbi Alan Iser, who’s here with us today. Our theme was Prayer, and my remarks this morning are inspired by those wonderful study sessions in which we explored the many problems that are associated with prayer. These problems are not new; they are as old as prayer itself. I came to see that only by discussing them could we even hope to address them.

The issue I would like us to explore this morning is a simple one. It’s a terrific one to address those who’ve come to shul on a lovely summer Shabbat morning. We are here because, on some level, we realize that we are supposed to be here. This is prayer: to gather together to worship on Shabbat morning. We may not all of us pray each day—much less three times a day—but we recognize that Shabbat is different. And, partly out of a sense of obligation, partly out of desire, we are here.

We are here, according to the rabbis, to serve God. And yet what about those inner yearnings, those inner thoughts, dreams or prayers? Are they being expressed here? If so, when and how? If not, do they ever get expressed? If so, when and how? Do our prayer services better enable us to express ourselves? Or do they hinder our expression? To that extent does our tradition’s focus on regular daily and holiday worship stifle rather than unlock what is within our souls? And what can we do about it?

[Discussion—see the study guide for this portion]

I’d like to conclude with the reading of a selection from Maimonides’ Code of Jewish Law, the Mishneh Torah. We can see from this selection that, as important as it eventually came to be for us to pray three times a day, Rambam is urging us not to stop there, but to make every moment the opportunity for prayer. And he does so by mentioning and reminding us of a verse in our Torah reading that, in the midst of the lengthy passages describing the obligatory sacrificial offerings we might be inclined to forget, namely 29:39:

“All these you shall offer to the LORD at the stated times, in addition

to your votive and free will offerings, libations, or offerings of well being.”

As much as I urge all of us to pray as often as our tradition requires, namely, three times a day, and on Shabbat, Rosh Hodesh and festivals, additionally, I also urge all of us to take this verse to heart, and to look at the world, as often as we can, as pregnant with the miraculous. Let’s try to appreciate each and every moment, and let’s try to invest each and every moment with the beauty and sanctity of prayer.

Shabbat Shalom.