Dvar Tefillah for Shacharit: Kedusha, Ahava Rabba, and Shema

Kedusha

I understand the liturgy of the Kedusha (specifically the short Kedusha that appears in Shacharit between yotzer or and or chadash) to be invoking three main aspects.

First, responsibility -- obviously, accepting the yoke of heaven is a huge responsibility.

Second, inevitability -- it is my experience that the yoke of heaven lands on us whether we want it or not. In my interpretation, the angels aren't DECIDING whether or not to take on the yoke. They're going to receive it no matter how they feel about it. But the burden is easier because they're together, and they're receiving it from each other.

And third, abundance. The yoke of heaven is a very bright light. This light is so bright that it is dangerous, scary, and painful -- but it's dangerous, scary, and painful because it is so incredibly, terrifyingly beautiful and miraculous. This is why the very next thing the angels do is give each other permission to bless. They're saying, "Hey, it's OK. You are allowed to have this. You are allowed to be in the presence of this light. You might not feel like you deserve it, you might not feel like you merit it, you might not feel like you are worth enough to experience this unfathomable blessing. But this is really happening to you. You are here and this is real. So open up your eyes, open up your heart and let yourself feel it, let yourself be amazed. Let yourself be grateful. Let yourself have this. Let yourself admit it. Let yourself name it for what it is. You are allowed to see G!d, and you are allowed to praise G!d."

Ahava Rabba

I've been thinking about Ahavat Hashem and Yirat Hashem, love of G!d and fear of G!d. Both love and fear can be terrifying, and to me, this entire section of the liturgy is about the extremely bright, extremely overwhelming, extremely demanding experience of G!d's love -- both our love for G!d and G!d's love for us. I'm thinking about Aesop's fable about the sun and the wind. The sun and the wind decide to have a contest to see who is stronger. There is a man wearing a cloak. The wind blows and blows at him, trying to get him to take his cloak off, but without success. The sun smiles down on the man and warms him up, until he gladly removes his cloak. This is what G!d's love is doing here. It is shining down upon us until we are warm enough to shed our outer layer, and open ourselves up so that our raw inner skin is open to the air, so that we're vulnerable. And there is a lot of responsibility attached to that vulnerability. What makes us feel more capable, more powerful, more responsible for our actions -- is it when our parents or our teachers or our partners get mad at us, or is it when they make it clear that they believe in us, that they have high expectations for us?

Shema

The importance of the Shema is not in the details of the text of the Shema. The Shema is not about the people Israel, it's not about monotheism, it's not about the name of G!d. The Shema is about taking responsibility. In the Kedusha, we talked about the yoke of heaven. When we say the shema, we're saying, "OK. Here I am. I'm taking it on." And our liturgy is very smart. Sort of like Yom Kippur, or like death, the Shema comes along in the service, whether or not we're ready for it. I understand this as a kind of "fake it 'til you make it" moment. Maybe you don't feel ready to take on the yoke of heaven. But saying that you're ready gets you just a little bit closer to ACTUALLY being ready.