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I recently had the pleasure of reading
Brenda Shoshanna's book "A Guide to the
Practice of Judaism And Zen-Jewish Dharma." She writes,
Observant Jews gather together to pray
twice day, morning and early evening, in
minyan, a group of at least ten men. The
community is essential not only in lifting
the prayers and strengthening them but in
reminding us that we are not alone. Being
present for others in the minyan and helping them in times of need is a form
of
prayer as well...The time prayers are offered
is also important because these prayers
combine with and affect the different
physical, emotional, and spiritual energies
that arise throughout the day and night.
For example, morning prayers set the tone
of the day, opening the heart and mind to
a new vista; evening prayers create a
protective shield against the depression
and darkness that arise at night."
Dr. Shoshanna continues, "When a minyan
is not present, the kaddish, the traditional
Jewish prayer for the dead, cannot be said.
This prayer requires the strength of ten to
lift the prayer and lift the spirit of the
departed."
Speaking about a "minyan mensch," brings
to mind a touching--and true--story found
in Yitta Halberstam Mendlebaum and Judith Leventhal's
book titled, "Small Miracles for the Jewish
Heart." The story is titled, "Waiting for the
Tenth Man." (I thank them for allowing me to share the story.)
In a small, makeshift synagogue not far from the Twin Towers, Orthodox Jewish
professionals regularly meet early each
morning for daily prayer services. Usually
there is no problem rounding up a minyan
(quorum of ten men required to pray) and
the cramped quarters often overflow with
worshippers. But on the morning of
September 11th, there was an uncommon
dearth of available men. Perhaps they had
decided to remain that morning at their
resident shuls for the important selichos
services that precede the High Holidays. Or,
perhaps they were participating in the
shloshim (one month anniversary) memorial services for the Jews who had been
killed in the Grand Canyon helicopter
crash. Two hundred men who worked in
the World Trade Center, were, in fact, late
to work that morning because of their
participation in the shlashim service. But
whatever the reason, the congregants were
faced with a problem: only nine men were
present, and time was marching on. These
were serious men, professionals, and all
had to be at their desks at the World Trade
Center well before 9 a.m. "What should we
do?" they asked each other, impatiently
tapping their wrist watches, as they paced
the floors. "This situation hasn't happened
in ages! Where is everybody?"
"I'm sure a tenth man will come along soon," someone else soothed. "We
have to
be patient."
The men waited, restless and tense. Some
of them were already running late. Finally,
when they had all but given up and were
going to resort to individual prayer (instead
of the preferred communal one), an old man whom nobody had ever seen before
shuffled in the door.
"Did you daven (pray) yet?" he asked,
looking at the group.
"No, sir!" one shouted jubilantly. "We've
been waiting for you!"
"Wonderful," the elderly man responded,
"I have to say kaddish (a special prayer
recited on the yarzeit, the anniversary of a
close family member's death) for my father
and I have to daven before the omed (lead
the prayer services). I'm so glad that you
didn't start yet."
Under normal circumsances, the men would
have asked the gentleman polite questions:
what was his name, where was he from,
how did he come to their obscure shul? By
now, however, they were frantic to start and decided to bypass protocol. They
hastily handed the man a siddur (prayer
book), hoping he would prove himself to be
the Speedy Gonzales of daveners (prayers).
The old man proved to be anything but.
"Oy!" someone smacked his forehead in
frustration, "Are we going to be late!"
That's when they heard the first explosion:
the horrible blast that would forever shake
their souls. They ran outside and saw the
smoke, the chaos, the screaming crowds,
the apocalypse that lay before them.
It should have been us. After the initial
shock and horror, consciousness dawned on
them quickly. They realized they had been
rescued from the jaws of death. Each and
every one of them worked in the Twin
Towers. Each and every one of them was
supposed to be there before nine. Had it
not been for the elderly man and his slow-
motion schacharis (morning service), they
probably would have been killed.
They turned to thank him, this mystery
man who had saved their lives. They wanted to hug him in effusive gratitude
and find out his name and where he had
come from on that fateful morning.
But they'll never know the answers to these
questions that nag at them to this day--
when they turned around to embrace him,
the man was gone, his identity forever a
mystery.
Copyright (c) by YItta Halberstam Mendelbaum and Judith Leventhal
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