Is Calling Something an “Empty Ritual” Merely Being Redundant?

Doing Rites Right

Nowadays, the phrase “empty ritual” seems redundant as if every ritual is by definition devoid of meaning. The Wicked Son’s question at the seder seems to imply as much, for embedded in his challenge “What’s this service mean to you?” is a broader, more devastating one: “Why should this service matter to anybody?”

In Zieglitz’s Blessing, young Ricky has similar feelings at his family’s seders. They’re led by his Grandpa Irv, who can read Hebrew faster than anybody else at the table. Grandpa Irv never stops for any English, not even for a “Blessed art Thou, O Lord,” the Haggadah’s rendering of its most recurrent Hebrew phrase, “Baruch atah Adonai.” The way Grandpa Irv whizzes through those words, Ricky thinks they sound like “Broke Otto Adenoid.”

Ricky is similarly bored most of the time at the Saturday morning synagogue services he goes to, which, like Grandpa Irv’s seders, are conducted in Hebrew. Once, though, he experiences something entirely different as the Torah is carried through the congregation. As people break out in song, Ricky unexpectedly finds himself caught up with them; the singing is no longer alien, outside him, but in him. With his own voice buoyed by the rest, Ricky, for the first time in his life, feels part of something bigger than himself. He doesn’t feel all alone anymore.

Many of us have likewise been lifted by the music during a religious service. But to put all the emphasis on our emotional response to a ritual shortchanges its other key elements. For example, context matters. If getting an emotional high from a piece of music is all that counts, Ricky could just as easily be attending a rock concert or singing the national anthem at a sold-out ballgame. Instead, his sense of euphoria comes during the Torah service, a highpoint of many Jewish liturgies.

And yet, while participating in the Torah service is moving to Ricky, it’s still mumbo-jumbo to him, because, like the Wicked Son, no one’s explained to him its meaning. Bringing the Torah down from the bimah (the stage) and carrying it through the congregation re-enacts Moses’ bringing the covenant down from Sinai to present to the Israelites waiting below. Ricky and the rest of the congregation move in to touch the scroll with their prayer shawls or prayerbooks and subsequently bring those fringes or books up to their lips. Ricky mistakenly thinks that since the Torah has God’s name in it, people are trying to get a taste of His power. Jostling past clusters of grown-ups, he brushes his siddur against the scroll as soon as it gets close. Then he kisses the prayer book as hard as he can, imitating the love scenes he’s seen in movies.

But Ricky’s got the meaning all wrong. In ancient Babylonia, touching a written agreement and then bringing your hand to your lips signified your accepting its terms. Consequently, in a synagogue service, reaching out to touch the scroll and then bringing your tallit, siddur, or hand up to your mouth symbolizes your acceptance of the covenant anew in which you’re once again drawing close to God. In short, you’re declaring, “I’m in!” Crucial, of course, to this or any ritual is performing the right steps in the right order. If Ricky had touched his prayerbook to his lips and then touched the scroll, he wouldn’t have gotten the rite right, regardless of how it made him feel.

Nevertheless, even a ritual done with the right steps in the right order, within the right context, and with the right meaning, doesn’t necessarily guarantee the right outcome of experiencing it as meaningful. Suppose it’s your birthday, and your family takes you to a restaurant to celebrate it. Having “Happy Birthday” sung to you by waitstaff as they carry out a cake – which they’ve already done for several other diners that evening – may embarrass you as much as please you.

One thing’s certain, though — without performing such rituals, feeling joy on a birthday, let alone God’s presence in a service, are much less likely to happen. So when those rituals are mimicked or mouthed without proper regard for performance, context, or meaning, how can they help be anything but empty?