How many of us have ever bargained with G-d? While it might seem audacious, we come from ancestors who did precisely that. This past week we read the parsha, portion that includes Abraham arguing with G-d. This argument, bargaining, is how we know that Abraham is a righteous man, for all time, not like Noah who was a righteous man in his generation. What is Abraham arguing about? He is trying to save Sodom and Gemorrah. “Surely you won’t destroy those cities if there are at least 50 righteous people?,” he demands of G-d. Surely not, G-d responds. But there are not even 50 righteous. Abraham bargains all the way down to 10. From this we learn that to have a community you need 10 people. In order to have a minyan you need 10 people.
In our quest to understand prayer this month, this is a very relevant question. Traditionally you need 10 adult Jewish men for a full, complete service. You need 10 for a minyan. You need 10 for Barchu (the formal call to worship), for the Torah service, and for the Reader’s Recitation of the Amidah, You need 10 people to say Kaddish. You need 10 people for Mourner’s Kaddish. Many have argued with me this week: that it is about intention.
- “I can say Kaddish at home and remember my father. I don’t need 10.”
- “We used to say Kaddish if there were 9 by counting a child or the Torah as the 10th.”
- “We would count a minyan if there were 8 plus two non-Jews, two kids or a kid and the Torah.”
And while this is a tradition, maybe we don’t need a minyan. It is acceptable to pray alone. Many do just that. When we go to sleep we might say the Sh’ma. When we wake up we might say Modeh/Modah Ani. We may live somewhere where there is not a daily minyan. We may like meditating or praying on our own.
Pirke Avot, the Wisdom of the Fathers, part of the Mishneh teaches us:
Rabbi Hananiah ben Teradion says: When two sit together without any words of Torah between them it is just a setting for frivolous people, as it says (Psalms 1:1), that a person [who only desires God’s Torah] does not sit among frivolous people. But when two people sit together and there are words of Torah between them, the Shekhinah – Divine Presence – is between them, as it says (Malachi 3:16): ‘Then those who fear God engaged each other in conversation, each with their friend, and God listened and heard. Then it was written as a book of remembrance before Him, for those who revere God and who contemplate His Name.’ (Pirke Avot 3:2)
When there are just three people gathered, a full Birkat Hamazon, grace after meals is recited.
For two weeks now we have held an experimental, experiential, alternative service. The question has come up whether it is a minyan if there are not 10 in the room. My thought was that if there were at least 10 in the main sanctuary and some in the library, we were covered. Halachically that may not be quite accurate. Even if the door is open. However, I think that goes to intention, kavanah. It is our intention to have a service. The conversation has sparkled in there. Words of Torah have been exchanged. There has been deep learning. Deeper prayer. It has provided an opportunity to explore prayer and Judaism. The Shekhinah was clearly present—with or without a formal minyan. And isn’t that what prayer is about?
I am often my own rabbi, and make up my own halacha. For example, I keep kosher. I asked one rabbi how to handle my dishwasher. He said to run the dishwasher empty three times between milk dishes and meat dishes. I live in a desert. A second rabbi (2 rabbis, three opinions) told me not to worry – the water in there is 180 degrees. But that didn’t please me either because I rarely eat meat, and while I was waiting for enough meat dishes to do a full load (and meat needs the 180 degrees of the dishwasher to kill germs), my sink was filling up with milk dishes that I ended up washing by hand. Eventually I took a laundry marker and made a line down the middle of my dishwasher. Milk to the left, meat to the right – the kavana of separation. It’s been that way ever since.