It was a thin crowd that had showed up for the 2:00 Mincha that Sunday. A combination of a super-sized chasuna for the daughter of one of the shul's major gvirim, unseasonably warm temperatures, and a creditball playoff game left barely a minyan in the Beis Medrash.
First gabbai was absent. So was second, third, and fourth, all the way down to eighth, which was as deep as the shul's gabbai bench ran.
“What's in the bag?” asked Dave.
“Oh, it's shaimos,” replied Shloimie. “I forgot to drop it in the shaimos box out front.”
Dave detected a droop in his shoulder, undoubtedly from the weight of the bag. “That's a lot of shaimos you got there.”
“Yeah, well, H-shem's name has been receiving a lot more press coverage lately. Which is a good thing, in a way, but it sure does generate extra work for those of us who are conscientious about such things.”
All in all, Dave had pretty good kavanna through Shemonah Esrei Bracha #7 = S'lach Lanu. It was in #8 = Go'el Yisroel that the troubles started. Specifically, the troubles of Yanky, his son, who had failed his road test for the third time. It was a better performance overall, in that the distance between his car and the other car he almost sideswiped had nearly doubled from three inches in his last outing to five in this one. Still, it had unnerved the examiner enough to not give Yanky the benefit of the doubt when he ran the two stop signs.
The lights in the shul glowed brightly that morning. But unbeknownst to most of the kehilla, there was an energy crisis going on in that room, and it hit full swing during the Shemoneh Esrei.
Dave suspected something was happening, something bad. Combination of heavy overcast, market dropping 6% the day before, Cudgelwielders eliminated from the NCL playoffs in round 1 for the third year in a row. Whose mind was on davening? Even Dave was slogging through. Barely qualified for minimum kavanna in Magen Avraham.
All were invited to a shul breakfast sponsored by Avrumie Vizovic, in commemoration of the yahrzeit of yet another deceased person whom Avrumie recently discovered he was related to. A convivial buzz permeated the Gawlapur (Gertrude and Wilhelm Loghshmeer All Purpose Room). Avrumie himself was called away at the last second by a business deal not to be passed up, but he was thought of fondly by the other attendees as they dined on warm bagels and cold cereal.
The temperature of Dave Geiss's own bagel was swiftly cooling towards the melting point of butter. It was a time for action. “Hey, Rod, would you please pass me that container of whipped creamery butter, pronto?”
The Scene: The Barry Flass Coat Room, sometimes referred to as the Baflacor.
The Characters: Dave Geiss and his friend Feivel Murglewitz.
The Smell: Burnt waffles – Congregation Bnei Avos was recently presented with a waffle maker, and the kehilla was still climbing the learning curve.
Now this is davening, Dave Geiss was thinking, as he started Shemoneh Esrei bracha #10, M'Kabeitz Nidchei Amo Yisrael. My kavanna was really pretty good there in that last bracha, Bareich Aleinu, I must admit. Yes, pretty good indeed.
Then he was in bracha #11, Melech Oheiv Tzedakah u'Mishpat, thinking: Yes, Mevarech haShanim. Pleading for rain for the crops of Eretz Yisrael, but at the same time having in mind my own livelihood and the livelihoods of all the Jews in the community. I think I touched all the main points.
In v'Lamalshinim: And when I refer to the Jews in the community, I even include those people who are thinking I'm kind of strange, since I've been putting more focus on my davening. I'm growing used to it, but does it still bother me? I'd say so.
It had been a rough Shacharis for Dave. Short Pesukei D'Zimra, short Shemoneh Esrei, and despite this, people leaving early. Baal tefilla using one of those keys that left Dave with the choice in his responses of going high and risk his voice cracking at inopportune moments, or going low and possibly attracting elephants. It took him five minutes from after the last Kaddish to finish everything he had skipped.
The life of a davening guy sure isn't easy, thought Dave Geiss in the middle of Pesukei d'Zimra. Now I'm two kapitalech behind. I thought for sure that I'd be only one behind at this point. It must have been the baal tefilla's Ashrei, it must have been a lot faster than usual. Well, I can skip the next two Hallelukahs to pull even, right? But you know, I'm really thinking of skipping three, to give me a little slack which I could invest in Az Yashir. I could squeeze in Yishtabach at the right time that way, instead of after Borchu. Man, what a fast Ashrei! I don't see a choice. With that kind of Ashrei, who knows how quick his Az Yashir's going to be?
This is what was passing for Dave's Pesukei d'Zimra kavanna today, and it wasn't much different than on other days, despite his resolve to daven better. He simply had yet to develop the practiced mental discipline to daven slowly in a fast minyan. But there was no better choice; his job and his community offered no viable alternatives other than davening at home.
The Dave Geiss story all began with The Dream.
Well, not the whole story. There was the matter of his birth, into a nice yet somewhat secular Jewish family. Went to Hebrew school, became frum as a young adult but without any formal yeshiva education. He more or less picked up yiddishkeit by osmosis.
Dave’s davening education was more of the same. The people who happened to be standing nearby him in shul became his role models. It did not make much difference when they came in and when they went out, nor in which direction their faces were oriented during the time they were there. Dave watched and learned. If it was good enough for them, it was certainly good enough for him.
