Prayers are not offered on either of those, they are specifically places where animals are burnt. If you want to say otherwise, bring a verse.
. . . Then you're not aware that within post-Temple practice, prayers have taken the place of animal sacrifice? -----The new altar/shine is the Jew himself, who wears the curtain with the shatnez rescinding techelet (the tzitzit) over his head, and who has, what no less than Rabbi Sampson HIrsch called the "ark of the covenant in miniature" (the shel rosh) on the most holy place of his body. The tefillin turns the Jewish body into a shrine, and the tallit tells us what kind of shrine we're talking about. Hint, the veil in the temple (like the tzitzit) was died [sic] with techelet.
If we're inclined to take a brilliant Jewish Professor like Michael Fishbane seriously, then the sacrifice the penitent prayer-offer brings could very well be himself:
The proper practice of the daily Shema is then as much a preparation for saintly death as it is a credo of living love of God. The ritual recitation is thus an interiorization of death, such that the true devotee is already in life a spiritual martyr in deed. . . This interpretation of the Shema recitation as a meditation on martyrological death recurs throughout the Middle Ages--- and beyond.
Kiss of Death, p. 102.
Perhaps the temple was always just a stony anthropomorphism all along? Perhaps that's what Jeremiah was talking about when he spoke of replacing the stony home of the Torah with a heart of flesh and blood? Perhaps you're that living home of the Torah, the true temple, the true shrine?
Why, how, could I suggest such things when a natural born Jew seems oblivious? As just a guess, it could well be because I may be the first person to wear techelet in nearly two thousand years. I may be the first person to have manufactured the true halachic dye used for over a thousand years prior to the destruction of the temple. Having techelet in one's presence is a true exegetical boon required to open up things closed for too long.
Even as the antagonistic protagonist of
Toledot Yeshu stole the Name to affect miraculous powers and insights, this, your interlocutor, has stolen the recipe for techelet, in order to follow in the first thief's footsteps. He (the first thief) is coming to a neighborhood near you soon. . . That's perhaps the foremost insight come from the possession of a royal elixir just recently reintroduced to the world. But to a world, like the antediluvians, drunk on their own pseudo-spirituality and banality: "We don't need your stinking techelet, I got my tzitzit from Walmart."
John