The title of the conference session seemed innocent enough: Not All Jews Say Kaddish.

We received two lovely booklets of alternative memorial prayers written by Rabbi Robert Barr and Congregation Beth Adam.

But the presenter was Rabbi Barr, and the conference was Rabbis Without Borders. “Lovely” is too bland an adjective for either.

During the session, traditionalists defended the Kaddish. “We offer it because it provides meaning in a time of rupture.”

“But,” said Rabbi Barr, “most of the Siddur (prayerbook) is meaningless to contemporary Jews. How does sharing a meaningless prayer provide meaning?”

This was not a rhetorical question, and the traditionalists wrestled with it – until Rabbi Barr invited them to examine their own experience.

“How do you succeed in finding the Siddur meaningful? You interpret and re-interpret.”

In a flash, I saw it.

Much of the Siddur is outdated — including some of my favorite parts. In those cases, I don’t actually love what the Siddur says; I love my interpretation of it.

For example, I love the reward and punishment section of the Shema, the one that says:

If you worship other Gods, and God’s anger flares up at you, and stops up the sky so there won’t be rain or dew, you will quickly perish from the good land.

I don’t believe that God will have a tantrum and mess up the weather if I use a Christian, Hindu or Muslim prayer. In fact, I don’t believe that God programs the weather day by day. Theologically speaking, I don’t understand God to be like an interventionist person at all.

So why do I love this section? Because I interpret it to mean, “If you make money your god, you will destroy your society.” Theologically, I do believe that God looms at the edge of our consciousness, drawing us away from materialism and towards compassion, wisdom, and non-attachment.

“Imagine,” said Rabbi Barr, “someone new comes into your synagogue, and opens the Siddur in search of a statement of what this group believes. Do they find it?”

We had no choice but to answer, “No.”

And I realized: the Siddur, along with the Tanakh, is considered a staple of Jewish literacy. But it is by no means entry-level reading. To understand the Siddur, even in translation, requires background in Jewish history, literary studies, and evolving world theologies.

What shall I do with this insight?

Let it illuminate borders that can block a seeker’s path. Remember the borders I know how to open, through teaching, poetry and music. Reflect on the borders I don’t know how to open at all.

And appreciate Or Shalom Synagogue. At Or Shalom, opening the borders of the Siddur is not so difficult. Our mission statement names us as a “Jewish spiritual community.” We are not afraid to think about God, spirit, psyche or inner growth. The Siddur’s inconsistent teachings about God fascinate us. We accept them as a gateway to personal questions and answers.

But not everyone has our confidence. Not everyone knows how to find themselves within our tradition. How best to welcome these timid seekers, I don’t yet know.

It’s a border I’ve yet to cross.

Image: www.alephtechnology.com