Summer services at Temple Israel are among my favorite experiences of the year. On Shabbat evenings, we gather for Kabbalat Shabbat prayers, weather permitting, in the courtyard. And on Shabbat mornings, we forsake the sanctuary for the less formal, more relaxed setting of the Social Hall. Most weeks, members of the congregation give the D’var Torah, sharing their Torah and their life experience with the community.

Regardless of the physical setting, I marvel at the complexity of what is happening as we pray. You might think that a common Siddur keeps us all pretty much on the same page, as it were. However, there are multiple experiences, quite different one from another, happening simultaneously. I don’t just mean that Cohen comes to talk to God, while Schwartz comes to talk to Cohen. As important as the shmooze element is for many of us, coming to synagogue to be a part of a community of friends, there are moments when even Schwartz is reaching towards a different kind of experience, a more inward-directed, religious one.

Let me tell you what I see.There are those who proficiently daven every word, whether or not they understand the Hebrew. For some of them, the familiar flow of the language serves as a mantra, helping to clear the mind of extraneous thoughts and enter an inner sanctuary of sacred space. The meaning of the words takes second place to the process, as they gently “shuckle” (Yiddish for swaying back and forth in prayer).They have learned through regular practice to use words as one who meditates uses his breath.

There are also those who try to daven every word in a more urgent way. They move quickly through the prayer in a manner that may not appear to the outsider to be spiritual at all. However, for these daveners, fulfilling the requirement of prayer provides a deep religious satisfaction of having fulfilled Jewish law, and having done God’s will.

Others focus on the literal meaning of the prayer, reading each English paragraph closely for content.The Amida becomes an opportunity to explore their theology, examining how each Rabbinic statement stacks up against their own experience of the world. For them, the experience is both personal and intellectual.

Still others have come to understand that liturgy is essentially poetry, and that the words of prayer are meant to evoke feelings and emotions that speak their own kind of truth. They feel no conflict between what they know to be scientifically true, and the very different kind of truth within the pages of the Siddur. They hold them both comfortably, each adding its richness to the experience of life. There are those who never worry about reading it all, but who give themselves the luxury to linger over a phrase that speaks to them in the moment. Others close the book altogether, and allow themselves to be carried by the melody and the prayers of others. Of course, there are those who pray by standing next to their children, holding them, turning pages for them or feeding them. For these daveners, the presence of their children speaks more about the mystery of continuity and of life’s meaning than any written prayer. Still other people bide their time patiently or otherwise until theTorah service.For it is within the process of Torah study that they hear an intimation of the divine. And then of course, there is Schwartz, who is here because he likes to talk to Cohen. Who would we be without Schwartz, or without any of these uncommon companions in prayer?

Rabbi Daniel Liben