by the Siddur Project, 1991

 In February 1984, eight members of Havurat Shalom gathered for the first meeting of the “Siddur (prayerbook, from Hebrew for “order”)
Project.” The goal of the project was to create for our Havurah a siddur which would reflect our commitment to the traditional liturgy, as well as
our shared perceptions of God and the world which differ from those of traditional Judaism. This volume, Siddur Birkat Shalom, contains the fruits of the years of study, discussion, writing, inspiration and criticism. It includes the complete Shabbat morning service as it is recited at Havurat Shalom (some prayers that are traditionally recited have been omitted as
they are not recited at the Havurah).
 
Although the composition of the Siddur Project group has changed since we began working formally, we continue to find ourselves to be a
microcosm of the Havurah membership with our various reactions to the experience of davenning. We are women and men, lesbian, bisexual and
heterosexual, with a strong commitment to feminism, and these qualities influence our relationship to the traditional siddur. Some of us have received excellent Jewish educations; others have rediscovered our Judaism only since coming to the Havurah. Some have converted to
Judaism. The diversity of our group has been both an inspiration and a challenge: we have had to learn to trust each other and to work together
to create a document that each member of the group can use as a siddur. We also have had to establish a process that would help us to accomplish the many types of changes we needed to make. Accordingly, the initial
months of our work were dedicated to studying and analyzing the traditional Shabbat morning service. We then worked individually on
revisions, translations and meditations, coming together to edit and criticize the new material. Our work was shaped by group discussions
about a variety of topics including the nature of good and evil, our concepts of God, chosenness, feelings about gender, and the use and
power of language.

We have focused on changing the Hebrew text, since we felt that enduring changes to the liturgy should be made in the original language
of the prayers. We cling to a strong bond with the familiar Hebrew prayers, and a connection through time and space to the Jewish people.
Still, we also feel the need for a new English translation, compatible with the changes we have made to the Hebrew — reflecting the richness and strength of the original Hebrew — but at the same time, less archaic. Most of the major adaptations we made to the liturgy can be classified in the following areas:
 
Egalitarian language: The traditional Hebrew siddur uses masculine referential pronouns and specific nouns almost exclusively when
alluding both to God (e.g. “melekh” — King, “Barukh atah” — Blessed [masc.] are you [masc.]) and to humans (e.g. “tzadik katamar yifrah” — a
righteous [man] will flourish like the palm). Siddur Birkat Shalom contains masculine and feminine God-language and references to humans
balanced equally for frequency of occurrence and relative importance (from a rabbinic point of view) of the prayer. With few exceptions, a
single gender reference for God is maintained throughout each psalm or prayer; references to humans alternate wherever possible in order that
each prayer address both males and females. (Please see “Notes on Gender Language” below for additional information about treatment of
gender references in this siddur.)
 
Images of God: There are many traditional images of God which we found inspirational (e.g., God as creator and sustainer, giver of life and
Torah, God of compassion and loving-kindness). However, traditional references to God characterizing God as King, Judge, Father and
dispenser of bountiful reward and devastating punishment raised questions for us. Siddur Birkat Shalom has chosen to retain some occurrences of traditional God-names, while changing or emphasizing others to extend the choices we have in opening ourselves to God. Additional names for God used in the siddur include: Source of Life (“Mekor ha-Hִayim”), Our Mother (“Imenu”), and Life of the Worlds or Everlasting Life (“Hִei ha-Olamim”). We have also included phrases
portraying God as a nurturer, friend and teacher. Although the traditional word for God, “Adonai,” is masculine, we have chosen to treat this name as both masculine and feminine, using pronouns for both genders in order to maintain our connection to our Jewish tradition which commonly uses this name as the most Holy.
 
Jews and non-Jews: An important component of traditional Judaism is the concept of Jews as the “Chosen People.” An obvious corollary to this
concept is that non-Jews have not been — and cannot be — "chosen" as well. Consequently, the traditional siddur states both implicitly and
explicitly that the practices of non-Jews have less spiritual validity. Havurat Shalom has clearly articulated the belief that there are many
paths to God and that all peoples have been "chosen" by the Holy One in some way. Accordingly, Siddur Birkat Shalom affirms the chosenness of all people: “asher bahar banu im kol [instead of “mi-kol”] ha-amim” — who has chosen us with all other [instead of “from among all other”] nations. We have reframed prayers which traditionally portrayed non-Jews as simply witnessing the wonders that God performs for the Jews to portray non-Jews as having a more equal and participatory role (cf. Psalm 98).
 
Good and Evil / Reward and Punishment: Traditional liturgy views the interplay of good and evil in a way that seems simplistic in our time.
God is portrayed as entirely good, the rewarder of the righteous (i.e., the Jews and the downtrodden) and the destroyer of the wicked (i.e., nations
who oppress Jews, the rich and haughty). The liturgy largely fails to address the many difficult questions about good and evil which have
confronted people throughout history: What is the role of God in evil? Why do righteous people appear to suffer in this world while evil people
appear to prosper? Why must God destroy evil people instead of merely destroying the evil within them? We have begun to address these issues by changing the focus in some prayers from evil people to the evil within all of us, and we have eliminated references to evil altogether in other prayers. Siddur Birkat Shalom attempts to retain some references to divine retribution in the recognition that there are times when an individual needs to express feelings of anger and revenge. Resolutions to these quandaries continue to be a source of challenge.
 
Hierarchy: We were troubled by the concept of hierarchy as it relates to humans, God, and its expression in the traditional siddur. Some members found the pervasive concept of God as an authority figure troubling. Others felt a strong distaste for humans’ uses and abuses of power, and the often oppressive hierarchies built into human social institutions. They rejected the extension of these systems into the God-human
relationship (e.g. God as Master and humans as slaves), since this model, sanctioned as “divine,” has been used to reinforce oppressive systems.
Group members also perceived the traditional siddur to be emphasizing a view of God as transcendent at the expense of an additional notion of God as a more immanent, intimate Being.
 
Siddur Birkat Shalom expands the traditional notions of a transcendent God and an authoritarian God. It adapts some prayers to convey a sense of partnership and intimacy between God and people, a sense that is also
present in Jewish tradition, but has been less emphasized in the psalms. Images of God which are analogous to oppressive human power
relationships have been changed or omitted wherever possible. A particular concern emerged regarding the characterization of God as
King/Queen and of people as servants. In addition to the discomfort with this hierarchical structure of God and people, some members of the
group found it difficult to relate to the concept of royalty. Accordingly, many of these references were omitted or modified, while others
(particularly in the case of King/Queen) were retained to accommodate those davenners who feel a connection with these concepts. Along with
these concerns about hierarchy, the group certainly acknowledges and treasures metaphors that express the sense that God is unimaginably greater than human beings, and beyond any finite work of creation. Nearly all the prayers (both Hebrew and English) in Siddur Birkat Shalom
have been changed from the traditional to some degree. Though in some cases, only the gender of God and/or humans has been changed, some
prayers have been changed more extensively according to the criteria described above. Adaptations may include omission of some words or verses of a prayer, inclusion of other biblical verses within a prayer, or substitution of words in a prayer. In the case of substitutions, care has
been taken to use Hebrew words appropriate for the language of the original. As a result, most prayers include the words "adapted" or “mutkan” (Hebrew) in their titles. A few prayers which have undergone major revisions are described as “meditations” rather than “adaptations.” The word “meditation” is also used to denote selections
in English which are loosely based on a Hebrew prayer, but which are not faithful translations.
 
An important assumption which underlies all the efforts of the Siddur Project is that the Havurat Shalom siddur cannot be made to order by a
committee but, rather, has to evolve. We see our role as generating material to be used by the Havurah community while encouraging the
community to determine which adaptations best meet their needs. The members of the Siddur Project are eager to hear and consider all
comments and reactions to the various editions of Siddur Birkat Shalom as our community grows and changes.
 
During our work on the siddur, we were delighted to discover how the prayers changed us even as we revised the prayers. For some of us, this
meant broadening our ideas about what kind of changes were acceptable. Others, who had originally been strong advocates of major
changes to the liturgy, found more depth and feeling in the traditional prayers. These changes in ourselves allowed us to be more daring about
what we were willing to try, knowing that nothing was irrevocable, that unimagined growth could result from our experiments. We hope that the
excitement of this discovery will be felt by all those who use Siddur Birkat Shalom, and that all of us will continue to be enriched by the work we
have begun, even as we add to our beautiful and profound liturgical tradition.
 
Notes on Gender Language (updated 2006)
(Section 3 of the following notes is of a more technical nature than the rest of the introduction and is intended for those with a particular
interest in some of the linguistic decisions made by the Siddur Project.)
 
1. Generic: In nearly every language devised by humans, the masculine is used to denote the generic (e.g., “every man” is presumed to be equal
to “everyone”). The siddur Project has chosen to use both masculine and feminine nouns to denote the generic.
 
2. Historical note on masculine and feminine usage at Havurat Shalom:
For most of its history, prayers at the Havurah have used masculine gender referents almost exclusively. The notable exceptions to this
practice were the use of “horenu” (our parents), or “avotenu v'imotenu” (our fathers and mothers) in place of the traditional “avotenu,” and the
inclusion of Sara, Rebecca, Leah and Rachel where traditionally only Abraham, Isaac and Jacob are mentioned.
 
Although there were many informal discussions about including more feminine language in davenning, and a few experiments along these
lines were tried sporadically, the first concerted effort in this direction took place during the spring retreat in May 1984, when the Shabbat
morning service was conducted entirely in the feminine. Reactions to the service were generally positive, although some participants felt that use
of the feminine-only was as exclusionary as a service conducted entirely in the masculine. Subsequent davenning at the Havurah (at the
discretion of the service leader) relied on the traditional (masculine) siddur with some prayers entirely in the feminine on photocopied pages.
Beginning in 1986, a small portion of the High Holiday services was adapted and made available in the Havurat Shalom Rosh Hashanah/Yom Kippur Anthology. These prayers had been revised according to the criteria set out in the introduction above. Many leaders of Shabbat
davenning chose to use some or all of those revised prayers at appropriate intervals in the service. With the introduction of the first edition of Siddur Birkat Shalom, the number of times it was necessary to switch back and forth between two siddurim was significantly reduced.
 
3. Feminine future plural verb: In classical Hebrew (the language in which the siddur is written), a unique verb form is used in the future
tense for the feminine plural second and third person, (e.g. “t’daberna” — they [fem.] will speak, you [fem.] will speak). This form is now rarely
used in modern Israeli Hebrew. Instead the corresponding masculine forms are used for the feminine as well (e.g., “t’dab’ru”— you [masc. or
fem.] will speak; “y’dab’ru”— they [masc. or fem.] will speak). In its, fourth printing, the Siddur 
​Project chose to return to the classic Hebrew
feminine plural verb form. The few instances where this form was not preserved have been footnoted.

Preface written by Reena Kling ז’ל
​and Miriam Bronstein.

The siddur has been part of the consciousness and soul of the Jewish people for hundreds of years. Our prayers have challenged us, comforted us, served as a vessel for our longings and bound us together as a community. These prayers express a view of spiritual reality and reveal the community’s deeply held beliefs. The liturgy is also a spiritual tool to help us with our lives. In davenning with the siddur we strive to find a center of meaning; we strive to move ourselves along a path of holiness.
 
The traditional siddur is precious to us. We are profoundly attached to its words, its structure and its wisdom. In praying these words we move
beyond ordinary time; we participate in eternity. We connect with our ancient past and with our extending future. Yet some aspects of the
traditional liturgy present a barrier rather than serve as a vehicle in our religious explorations. We have found that we need to adapt the liturgy,
to give voice to areas of our experience which have been silenced, and to revise aspects of the tradition which trouble us. The issue which has
most engaged us in this process is the inclusion of women and women's experience. Other central issues we have begun to address include: ways
of understanding God, good and evil, the relationship between Jews and non-Jews, and views of human nature. We view these concerns not only as central to our particular community, but also as core ethical and spiritual issues for our people.
 
In taking a close look at the liturgy, we are addressing some of the most basic questions about ourselves, God and the world. We recognize that the language of the siddur has the potential to express not only our concept of how the world is, but our vision of how it ought to be.
Through the repetition of the prayers, we inspire and replenish ourselves with impressionistic, yet powerful, answers to our questions; we form
and reinforce a world view. How mindful we must be, then, as we choose words for regular, set prayer. As feminist Jews, we are committed to working for a world in which oppression is ever being undermined and transformed into justice.
Religion can be a powerful force in helping or hindering this process of transformation. It is important to us to be conscious of the values which are promoted in our davenning. If, in our davenning, we retain and create life-affirming images and practices, and move away from
damaging ones, we believe we can enhance our lives. The words and teachings we turn to and rely on in our times of need and openness have
great impact on us. As we examined the language of traditional prayer, we arrived at the same insight that has been evolving in many
communities: language that is politically inadequate is spiritually inadequate. We feel a need to integrate our political and spiritual beliefs, so that we can bring our whole beings to davenning, and not separate certain parts of our morality from our spirituality. Language affects
consciousness, even though we are often not aware of this fact. The changing of pronouns, for example, not only points to institutional
change for women (leading and participating equally in ritual), but also points to theological change, expanding our concepts of God in enriching and liberating ways. Our siddur, its words, its message, even its grammar, should affirm and strengthen our vision of a world which is moving towards redemption.
 
Our prayer is part of our pursuit of tikkun olam (the kabbalistic notion of repairing or transforming the world). The title of our siddur, Siddur Birkat Shalom, reflects our spiritual and ethical mandate. “Birkat Shalom” has a double meaning. It means: “the blessing or prayer of the (Havurat) Shalom community,” and it also means “the blessing of/for peace.” We hope our davenning with Siddur Birkat Shalom will instill within us a sense of wholeness (shlaimut), and will inspire us to seek shalom wherever we are.
 
Another term we use frequently in our siddur, “mutkan”, Hebrew for “adapted”, contains the same Hebrew root as does the word tikkun. We
use this word to indicate modifications we have made in the traditional text of a psalm or prayer. We selected this word to express our hope that
in our process of adapting the liturgy, we perform an act of tikkun. When we render a prayer or psalm “mutkan” we intend a reparation of what is
troubling in our prayers and in our consciousness, what is in need of transformation in our spiritual lives.
 
In preparing this siddur, we were also committed to freeing our spirituality from the “idolatry” of imaging God as exclusively male and
hierarchical. Our religious experience is diminished when we worship only a part of God as if it were the whole. As we include additional
names for the Holy One, we are expanding our understandings of God. We know that all human language is limited in its ability to convey
ultimacy. No one image is God; there are innumerable images or notions that could potentially express the various aspects of God. We have been influenced by midrashic (1) and kabbalistic teachings which present multiple images and experiences of God within an overarching framework of the unity of God. This pluralistic, yet monotheistic view of God is even reflected in two of our traditional names for God, Adonai and Elohim, which are both in the plural. (Adonai means “my Lords” and Elohim means “Gods”). As the poet has written, “Countless visions we have named You, through all visions, You are One.” (2) As the siddur continues to evolve, we hope that our explorations of God’s multiplicity and oneness will strengthen our sense of the unifying spirit and the harmony that is inherent within each of us and in the world.
We are responding to a changing world view. The sacred task we have undertaken is to integrate traditional and feminist Judaism in making the liturgy reflective of our highest values. We draw from the wisdom and spiritual power of the past and the present. We are seeking to find fresh meanings in the traditional liturgy, and to add new insights from the experiences of our lives and the wisdom of our time. We consider Siddur Birkat Shalom be a continuation of the tradition of
interpreting Torah. Though we were very reluctant to change the words of Tanakh (the Bible), especially Torah (the first five books), we needed to acknowledge our disagreements with the sacred text however painful it may have been. When we daven, we are not studying or quoting, we are making the words our own. Thus, we have maintained traditional teachings and forms as much as possible, in a creative balance and
tension with the evolving beliefs and values that we also hold sacred.

Throughout the generations Jews have davenned, yearning for closeness with the Holy One. We have sought to praise and thank the Creator, and to open ourselves anew to the wonders of creation. We have expressed our joy, our pain and fear, and our hopes for a messianic era of
justice and peace. Through prayer, we strive to perceive the sparks of the holy in every aspect of life, and to sense our connection with the
universe around us and with the deepest parts of ourselves. We want to be inspired to fill our lives with good deeds.
 
We are grateful to the Holy One for giving us life and the capacity to reach out through our prayer and song. We join with the ancient psalmists, with our ancestors and our living communities in singing to God a new song. May davenning with Siddur Birkat Shalom draw us close to the One in whose presence we live; may it be a gateway to holiness for all who enter.
​
1. For example, see Pesikta Rabati, chapter 21.
2. Rabbi Yehudah Ha-Hasid, “Hymn of Glory”
 

by Todd Kaplan

Gleaning is a Jewish value, rooted in our texts. It appears in the Humash in several places and in each place, it is clear that no matter the famer’s yield in the field, there is enough for those in need too.

In the Book of Ruth, we read how Boaz instructs his workers to leave behind some crops in the field for Ruth.  Ruth 2:2–2:2.

In Deuteronomy, we learn that these crops are for “the alien, the orphan, and the widow,” and we leave some of the olives behind (Deut. 24:20-22, trans. Everett Fox) Elsewhere in the Torah, we learn that we must leave the crops that were accidentally not harvested (Deuteronomy 24:19) and to leave the corners of edges of the field behind as well (Leviticus 19:9) and finally, to not strip the field bare and leave some behind for this in need. (Leviticus 19:10).

What we “glean” from these writings is that indeed there is enough food in our world for all, but it is not an accident how it gets into the hands of those in need.  We have to make it happen.  That is why for over a decade, I have volunteered with a local crop rescue program called Boston Area Gleaners (BAG).  This small group has, on a shoe string budget, harvested an incredible amount of local produce and distributed it to families in need in the Boston area.  In 2019, the total amount harvested was almost 1,000,000 pounds! Nearly all of these crops would have been plowed back into the ground, mostly because it was not cost effective for the farmer to harvest these crops peak season.

When the pandemic hit, volunteer opportunities dried up and BAG’s staff pivoted to distributing produce to food pantries under a USDA contract. I saw that no matter how much BAG was able to accomplish, the need was even greater. I started to volunteer stocking the Somerville Community Fridge, located in Union Square at 35 Prospect St.  The fridge is similar to a traditional food pantry in that it offers food to community members in need. Rather than being open for short periods each week, it is open 24/7. The fridge is run by an ad-hoc group of volunteers and it is also completely and informally reliant on community members to stock it. This system trusts that those who use the fridge will take what they need and the anonymity and absence of bureaucracy help ensure the dignity of those using it. The fridge has been tremendously successful.

Boston Area Gleaners is fundraising for a permanent home for their operations, to help out, for more information or to sign up to glean with go to: http://www.bostonareagleaners.org/

For more information about Boston area community fridges go to:
https://www.thebostoncalendar.com/events/community-fridges-in-and-around-boston 

Editor's note: you can see that the Havurah and the community fridge groups both value a non-hierarchical power structure, volunteerism and doing-it-yourself.

Reflections of a Screen Sharer
​by Jacob Lipton

Aside from the year saying kaddish for my father, I have not, as an adult, managed to achieve a sense of personal obligation to attend Shabbat services every week. My attendance has waxed and waned, and I have been happiest at its most frequent, but I have never felt the internal (let alone divine) compulsion to be a weekly attendee. That changed in March 2020 when Havurat Shalom’s services moved online, and I became the community screen sharer.

Since that moment, with few exceptions, I have felt obliged to be at every minute of every service, and to be engaged throughout, sharing via Zoom the pdf siddur from which others read. The result has been that in this year of virtual services, I have felt more connected to my community and my Jewish practice than in any other.

It feels odd to turn the pages of an entire community’s siddur. Turning one’s own pages is usually so personal, especially in the crucial parts of the service in which everyone dovens at their own pace. I feel a real responsibility to get my screen sharing right, despite unavoidable tradeoffs.

For example, I try to minimize the number of scrolling movements: it’s difficult to read a text that someone else is moving. That means sacrificing some scrolling as we go, even when it would display more transliteration on the screen – important for those who rely on it. And when I know that the service leader is reading from the screen and not their own siddur, I prioritize their position over my own sense of the room’s.

Screen sharing has also taught me service leading styles that I would normally miss. Ruth likes to dive into the next pages when she takes over leading, while Cindy defers to the screen sharer about when to move on. Larry exits full screen mode on his zoom app to see more people, which can cut off the page’s margins: adjustments must be made.

An increasing challenge has been maintaining focus. My mind wanders, especially when computer notifications pop up: not a concern in physical services. Sometimes I can’t resist checking a sports score or responding to a text message during the service, and suddenly realize that everyone is waiting for me to continue scrolling. And often it’s all I can do to keep us in the right place, and my own engagement with the prayers takes a back seat.

But, on balance, screen sharing has aided me tremendously, which is why I’ve been eager to do almost all of it. The reason is obligation. Lacking personal obligation, I don’t know how much I would have attended virtual services this year, absent my screen sharing role. But that role has replaced my generally weak feeling of obligation to attend Shabbat services with a stronger, more specific obligation to the community to help keep services running. It’s really doubled, because my obligation to the community rests on our shared commitment in this time of social distance to not only maintain weekly services, but to increase them with a weekly Kabbalat Shabbat. This inspiring communal commitment to keeping the (virtual) show on the road, for all of our benefit, lets me embrace a commitment to my own particular role, to my own great benefit.

A few weeks ago, we had an engaging d’var discussion about na’aseh v’nishma: (roughly) we will do and we will obey. I’ve often thought about doing begetting obeying; build a habit of weekly shul attendance, and you start feeling obliged to continue. On a personal level, I haven’t quite managed that. But this year I have instead achieved a sense of obligation to a community which, even when encountered only in pixels, is a far more tangible conduit.

I don’t know how I’ll maintain that purpose when we meet again in person and my screen sharing services are joyfully redundant. But I do know where to look: the obligation I desire is to a community, and anything else can flow from there.

Havurah member Jacob Lipton is Associate Director at Justice Catalyst, where he works to push the legal profession and system towards justice. He lives in Somerville with his partner Emily and their cat Lulu. 

by Larry Rosenwald

As we got closer to Purim 2021, it was impossible not to remember Purim a year ago – the last time we were together as a community, urging one another to wash hands of course (I added a verse to the purimshpil prologue: “ the usual opening now expands/by urging you to wash your hands!”), not hugging, minimizing contact – but we were there in our space, our house, we were reading from our megillah scroll, we could sing and shout and jeer and hiss together.  Then at the end, with Haman’s plots foiled and the Jews triumphant, we went home.  That was the last time we were together as a community in that wonderful, storied space, with the aron on the wall and the sifrei torah within it, singing together, hearing together, seeing together.

What we have done in the last year, in the world we went home to that night, the world of the pandemic, has been extraordinary – an astonishing up-springing of creativity, loyalty, supportiveness, sacrifice, commitment.  What we could do within the constraints we are subject to we have done, and maybe more even than we imagined we could do.  We made our observance of the High Holidays radiant.  We found on the second day of Rosh Hashanah a way of multiplying and diversifying our non-liturgical musaf service, and the outdoor blasts of the shofar were heard across much of Somerville.  We developed our technical skills to allow us a hybrid ne’ilah service on Yom Kippur, with Ruth Abrams leading from the back porch for those in the back yard and also for those at home.   We developed new forms, new activities:  anti-racism discussions, women’s midrash discussions, Talmud study, even an evening for studying Yiddish poems about fruit, with a learned poet Zooming in from Baltimore.  Our business meetings have never been better attended.  We have new leyners and new davening leaders, new givers of divrei torah, with people stepping up as need and inward prompting called.  Our services draw in members, associate members and alums from across the country, and curious visitors from across the Atlantic.  (I list only what I have experienced or been told about, and no doubt have forgotten some manifestations of our persistence and creativity, for which I ask forgiveness.)  It has been – I’ll end where I began – extraordinary.
           
But it has also been, for me at any rate, a privation.  Zoom allows us to speak together, to see one another (and not to be seen if we so choose), to deliberate together, to study together.  What it does not allow us to do is to sing together.  In another congregation, where singing together mattered less, that might be a smaller privation. In ours, where singing together is der iker, as they say in Yiddish, the heart of the matter, it is a larger one.  We can sing as individuals, we can harmonize with the leader if we choose, we can say the sh’ma together in all its wonderful non-simultaneity, but we cannot sing together, and that is – for me - a constantly felt, never diminishing privation. 

The voices that we hear through the speakers are not quite the voices we hear face-to-face, ponem-el-ponem, some of their resonances and complexities cut off by the admittedly amazing technology.  We cannot leyn from the scroll, we are not in physical contact with the Torah, we are neither face-to-face nor shoulder-to-shoulder, we cannot bless one another with our hands on the shoulders of our neighbors, we cannot feel, or at any rate I cannot feel, the real presence of others as forcefully as we did, as I did, that night of Purim last year.
           
The pandemic has brought out the best in us, and all honor to all who’ve contributed to what we’ve accomplished.  But the pandemic has also been a privation, a set of privations. “My soul waits for God more than they that watch for the morning,” says psalm 130.  I hope it won’t seem impious if I say that my own waiting for our return to our house, and for a diminishing of our privations, has some of that intensity.