The other day I wrote a post entitled "Five Monkeys..." and it's point was that we tend to do things the same way that they've always been done, whether we understand the reason, or not. This applies to many things... our personal lives, education, child-rearing, and of course business.
Here is another story that illustrates that same issue.
In a very small town in Poland, there stood a very old, very small, nondescript synagogue. Somehow it had survived the pogroms and the wars, and stood unnoticed on one of the cities narrow side-streets calling very little attention to itself.
The members of this synagogue were stalwarts in the community and had been members of this little synagogue for generations... at least the generations that still existed. An American Jew was visiting his friend in the city, and they decided to stop by the synagogue to join their Friday night services to experience a traditional Polish service. Since most synagogues, world-wide, use many of the same prayers in Hebrew, he figured he might not understand spoken instructions, but he would be able to participate in the prayers. The melodies might be slightly different, but certainly the words would be the same.
The sanctuary was run down, the plaster was clearly in disrepair, the ceiling needed work, the pews were word, the prayer books in tatters. The synagogue was clearly in need of a major renovation.
The service progressed nicely and he was able to join in on most of the prayers, although a few of the melodies were unknown to him, many were very familiar, and he was settling in nicely. When they came to the Mourner's Kaddish, a prayer to honour the dead, a prayer chanted while standing, rather than sung, round the world, he felt very comfortable speaking the words, but noticed suddenly that the entire congregation, while chanting this mono-tone prayer, were standing and turning around as they chanted.
Spinning slowly counterclockwise, he was the only one not spinning as he chanted, and eventually joined in the spinning, though he didn't understand why. After the services were over, he approached several of the congregants and asked as to "why" they were spinning. Was it along the lines of the Turkish Whirling-Dervishes?? Did it add to the religious experience? Were they facing all the directions of the compass to include the whole world in this prayer?
Nobody had an answer, other than to say "this is the way we've always done it." His question went unanswered, and he eventually returned home.
Many years later, his friend wrote him a letter. He said that the synagogue during a major remodelling, had removed much of the plaster, and under the plaster they'd discovered painted on all four walls, in very large Hebrew lettering, was the wording for the Mourner's Kaddish, starting at the front of the hall, and wrapping around the walls, counterclockwise (Hebrew is written right-to-left), North, then West, then South, and East... back to North... and round and round and round throughout the whole prayer.
The writing dated back to a time, when the congregations couldn't supply prayer books for everyone, so the prayer had been painted in large letters on the walls, and the only way to read it was to follow the lettering around and around, which caused everyone to look like they were spinning. While the prayer had long-ago been covered with plaster and paint, the tradition of spinning while chanting that prayer remained.
And they'd been doing it for so long, that nobody remembered why, other than "that's the way it's always been done."
(251 -33)
I feel like a spinning top, or a dreidel.
Spinning don't stop when you leave the cradle,
you just slow down.
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