The Times and The Siddur

Sometimes, G-d isn't so interesting.

Especially when the New York Times Magazine, in all its colorful and glossy once-a-week appeal, is stark competition for a small blue Siddur filled with a foreign language meant to be directed Above.

I was excited to have been able to snatch the magazine from a family friend. They had read it already, and happily gave it up.

So it was, before going to bed the other night, I decided to indulge in it's catchy headlines, artistic appeal, and overall ingenuity.

The magazine articles had everything to do with me. One stretch of pages painted a picture of how the internet is keeping musicians, artists, and writers in close contact with their increasingly demanding fans. I laughed my way through it, and creased my eyebrows in interest. The other article was by a Jewish writer, and his piece delicately described what it's like to write in times of war and conflict. I related to his sentiments about writing being an arduous task, but a responsibility, and ultimately a healing adventure.

My fingers left indents on both sides of the magazine. Reading it was a personal journey.

But personal journeys still require sleep, and my eyelids were starting to get heavy.

It was time to pick up my Siddur to say the nighttime Shema.

So down went the magazine, and with it all my enthusiasm, personal interest, and zest.

I placed the Siddur on my lap. Lifeless, as was I.

Intrigue had left out the fire escape. I was cold inside. Habit and it's dirty hands had me in hostage.

You know...sometimes, G-d is so uninteresting.

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It was strange making the transition from engaging magazine articles to the Hebrew words of constantly said prayers.

Scary, actually. I went from being an enchanted New York resident to G-d's robotic servant.

You see, G-d doesn't always feel so personal. And he certainly doesn't have screaming headlines to make him interesting. The pages of the New York Times Magazine will call you in with a rush. It casts a spell on us that gives us no choice but to submit. And it's an experience.

Meanwhile, G-d is asking for too much. He wants us to open a Siddur and have our hearts beat like we're watching a baseball game.

With a magazine, all I have to do is sit back and be dazzled. But while the New York Times presents me with information, pictures, and enlightenment, it is not like that with G-d. With G-d, I must be the prime player, the one who personalizes the prayers, exposes my heart, and demands a response. I must do my part to make this relationship work, without expecting his booming voice at every turn of the page.

So G-d holds back on the spark-and-dazzle effect because he wants my choice, he wants my efforts.

And yet, here he is watching me deflate upon opening the Siddur. It's pathetic.

Fortunately, with Shavuos, G-d gives us a chance to stand again at the mountain and hear his voice. When things get rote, G-d enlivens us, with the opportunity for serious introspection and rejuvenation. G-d comes to us and we respond. From that, we are meant to take inspiration to give us new strength in approaching Him everyday, to open His pages and actually see the personalized headlines. To bring ourselves to him at every moment, and experience an intriguing relationship based on our efforts, our searching.

A Siddur will never be the New York Times. But that's okay. When it comes to G-d, I am a partner - not a consumer. And when it comes to a relationship like that, it may take more energy, but there's nothing more interesting. This Shavuos, I find strength in a G-d that wants more than to amaze me - but for me to amaze Him.