by Larry Rosenwald

One of the important, challenging, quietly revolutionary aspects of Havurat Shalom's liturgy is its feminism, by which I mean chiefly the fact that both God and human beings are referred to sometimes in the feminine and sometimes in the masculine. This is true in the English and still more frequently and more strikingly true in the Hebrew, where so much is gendered, not just pronouns, but nouns, verbs, and adjectives as well.  All of this may well be disorienting to people not familiar with it, as it was to me when I began coming to Havurat Shalom in 2003 – I kept expecting one word and getting another, and I felt as if I were riding some especially unpredictable roller-coaster.
           
I’ve been to services at other congregations, some of them politically progressive ones and self-declaredly feminist ones (those being the ones I like to attend), and in my experience the Havurah's liturgy is unique.  Other congregations add the matriarchs to the patriarchs, other congregations have women leading services and leyning the torah portion.  Some other congregations have English translations of their liturgy that diminish the degree of masculine domination in the traditional Hebrew text – e.g., the Purple Valley Siddur produced by students at Williams College.  But even there, if you turn from the English to the Hebrew, you find God referred to exclusively in the masculine, and human beings almost exclusively so.
           
I’ve thought a lot about this gulf, this asymmetry, I’ve talked about our liturgy recently with friends both sympathetic and critical.  I’m no less supportive of it than I was before those conversations, no less inspired by it, no less in need of it.  But I have a better sense of what’s radical about it.
 
Theologically, it seems to me, we’re on firmer ground than supporters of an exclusively masculine God-language can be.  G-d transcends gender, that seems axiomatic.  It follows that it cannot be just, cannot be adequately capacious, to speak of God exclusively in the masculine, because doing so constrains God within a single human gender category. Speaking of God sometimes in the feminine and sometimes in the masculine does better justice, however imperfect, to the ein sof, the one without end or limit.
           
We are also on firmer ground than those who argue (the focus here being on the language used to describe people rather than the language used to describe God) that of course “he” means “he and she,” “man” means “man and woman,” ish means “ish and ishah.” I was taught such ideas when I was a grammar school student. I was taught the notion of the generic he; I’m familiar with the notion.  But that was a long time ago, and if it was ever true – and I’m not sure that it was – it’s surely not true now (nor do I teach it now to my students).  One fruitful consequence of feminism has been to challenge what used to be taught, even at the level of grammar, to change the ways in which we actually speak and write.  If someone today were writing a Declaration of Independence, would that person write “we hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal”?  (Angelica Schuyler’s response in Hamilton is on the mark: “And when I meet Thomas Jefferson/ I’m ‘a compel him to include women in the sequel!”)  And no translator today, I think, would render the title of Viktor Frankl’s concentration camp memoir as Man’s Search for Meaning;  too much is excluded, too much is distorted.  (And it’s a fanciful translation, which a strict literalist of my sort has to reject on other grounds as well, the original title being, in strict translation, “Saying Yes to Life in Spite of Everything:  A Psychologist Experiences the Concentration Camp.’)  And the English of the prayerbook needs to be our English, the English of this moment.  Not, to be sure, the slang or perishable colloquial idiom of this moment – nothing goes out of fashion more quickly - but the English we write at this moment to formulate prayer. 
           
All of this seems straightforward enough, to me at any rate, and justifies the Havurah's liturgy on grounds both of theology and of feminism-inspired living English usage in the 21st century.  I would make that argument anywhere, to anyone.
 
But then we come back to the fact that these commonsensical arguments seem to persuade only us, or almost only us, that elsewhere than at Havurat Shalom the Hebrew liturgy remains, with the very moderate exception of the addition of the matriarchs, a masculinist one.  (This is true even in siddurim and machzorim where other aspects of the liturgy are changed for what one might call political reasons, e.g., in the Reconstructionist siddur Kol Haneshama, which alters the Hebrew of the aleynu prayer to eliminate its invidious comparisons between Jews and non-Jews but leaves G-d and the worshipper in the masculine.)
           
Why?
           
For two reasons, I think.  (I exclude sexism as a reason, not because it plays no role, but because, as noted, even self-declared feminist congregations retain a masculinist liturgy.)  First, because of the desire, the principled desire, to be in accord with tradition.  Al tifrosh min ha-tzibbur, “do not separate from the community,” that is a real desire and a real principle, and I respect it. It is wonderful to think that the words one is saying or singing in prayer on Friday night or Saturday morning are the words being said or sung all over the Jewish world.  Changes are made when necessary – few congregations I have visited retain the blessing thanking God “for not making me a woman” – but these are minimal, the goal being not to separate, to have all of us together saying or singing sh’ma yisra’el.
           
A second reason:  because it seems so khutspedik, so insolent, so whipper-snapperish, in oneself or in others, to alter a liturgy established so long ago, by people of great authority and wisdom, who created beautiful and meaningful poems and prayers.  We should be hesitant, the argument might run, to put ourselves forward as empowered to alter what others of greater authority have constituted.  Who are we, anyway?
           
I feel the force of both these reasons;  but they are in my judgment not so much reasons to refrain from altering the liturgy as reasons to alter it in some ways and not in others.
           
Regarding the first reason, I would quote Joel Rosenberg’s colloquial and wise extension of it:  “al tifrosh min ha-tzibbur except when you have to.”  Necessity, that is, should be our guide, not caprice.  We should change the liturgy not when we casually dislike it, when we have a problem with, when it’s not to our taste;  we should change it when we must, when the language makes the prayer an obstacle to praying, a diminishing of ourselves, of the persons and energies we bring to davening, when the prayer as written sticks in our throat, and I mean that almost literally, when we cannot breathe it out.  And for me, and for the long train, di goldene keyt, the golden chain, of our liturgy-makers, the exclusively masculine characterization of God and the worshipper has exactly those effects.  We change the liturgy so that we can breathe it.  Nishmat kol chay tevarech et shemech we sing, the breath of every living thing will praise your (feminine) name, and for that to be true, we too have to be able to breathe.
           
Regarding the second reason, I would say that it should stimulate us to think about our relation to the authority of the past.  I might not go as far as Emerson does, lover of Emerson as I am:  “meek young persons grow up in libraries, believing it their duty to accept the views which Cicero . . . Locke . . . Bacon have given, forgetful that Cicero, Locke, and Bacon were only young persons in libraries when they wrote these books.”[1]  I would go as far as Mordecai Kaplan did, who said often and in various forms, “the past has a vote, but not a veto.” I would also go so far as to say that it is intellectually and emotionally unhealthy to think that all wisdom is in the past, is in those who happened to come first, is in those men who happened to come first. Mayn neshome iz nit keyn rozhinke, my soul is also no raisin – or, more colloquially, and shifting the metaphor from fruit to meat, “what am I, chopped liver?” 
           
We should in remaking the liturgy certainly hold ourselves to a high standard, philologically and literarily.  We should not presume that replacing old formulations with new ones is easy, that Hebrew can be easily made to say with authenticity what we wish to say.  We should look with humility as well as pride on the new liturgy we have made, and change it when we need to.
           
​But if those are the criteria - acting from necessity not from caprice, rewriting with a judicious mixture of philological humility and human self-reliance – then the liturgy we make new, our mutkan liturgy, fixed and healed and restored, will be an essential element in the fruitful multiplicity of Judaisms, the seventy faces of Torah. Or rather it already is.
 
[1] http://digitalemerson.wsulibs.wsu.edu/exhibits/show/text/the-american-scholar, accessed September 26th, 2017.

by Aliza Arzt

by Bev Schwartz

by Ruth Abrams

I can make an eight-strand braid and an eighteen-strand Jewish star. I’ve learned to make sourdough challah, challah with no eggs, and challah with no salt. But so far I haven’t tried making gluten-free challah. There is a good gluten-free recipe that another havnik, Josh Shalem Schreiber, adapted, and he gave it to me to share with people. (But he can share it with you himself!) I’m not an expert in challah dough sculpture and I usually don’t add exciting fillings, but I have done those things a little. Once I dyed the dough with gel food coloring to make rainbow challah for the week we read the story of Noah. 

I could just buy loaves of nice bread instead of baking Ashkenazi-style braided loaves. I have done that. My kid is in college. I don’t eat tons of bread during the week. Slices of challah fill my freezer. Why do I keep baking?

On days when I feel a little blue, it’s hard to say. It’s difficult to want to bake when I can’t have guests or potlucks. I got super excited that we were going to be able to have guests in the month or so after vaccinations were available to everyone, and then we got slammed with the viral variants. It felt even worse after that. 

For me, Judaism means doing the same things all the time, as well as I can. Sometimes my voice is too rough for singing or I’m too tired for Talmud or Torah study. I want to do my best and pay attention, but I sometimes have to do the action whether I am ready to do my best or not. Even if I’m the only one who will eat the bread, I try to bake it anyway. 

As with prayer or study or any other part of Jewish religious life, baking challah involves repetition. You get to know the ingredients and the finer points of the process. This obviously applies also to Torah study, to prayer, to everything we do. There is always something new to notice, something important to do, something essential to contribute. I do the same things all the time, but I am never the same and the conditions are never the same. Every mitzvah is a fractal, through which we see ourselves very large and very small, again and again, shaping Jewish life. ​

by Heidi Friedman

One of the many things that I love about Havurat Shalom is that it makes it easy to combine my favorite things. Right now, we’re in the midst of our 2nd annual crafts project / winterwear drive, where we both knit hats and scarves and also collect donated ones to give to people in need. I’m knitting my hats out of donated yarn – knitting and upcycling ‘trash’ being two of my favorite things. Maida and Aliza, who had never knit before last year’s drive, are using knitting looms – in the Havurah spirit of learning new skills and DIY, more of my favorite things. And several of us attend the Somerville Public Library’s weekly crafts Zoom to work on our hats and scarves – combining the library – everyone’s favorite thing! – as well as the Havurah’s emphasis on social connection. At the end of January, we’ll donate all the winterwear we’ve made and collected to local organizations that support unhoused people.

Some years ago, Havurah member Todd built a Little Free Library for his front yard. The moment I saw it, I knew the Havurah should also get one. I got the LFL built as a time trade – one of my most favorite things! – out of scrap lumber (upcycling trash!). And voila, the Havurah is helping to circulate free books – everyone’s favorite things – in the neighborhood. When we were inundated with donated books,  Merit started curating the LFL, slowly putting books of different types and topics out in it for passersby to peruse. More recently, Meryl read about a project to diversify the books in LFLs so that they better represent all of us. Now the Havurah is purchasing some new and some used diverse children’s books, and slowly stocking them in our LFL. We’re funding the diverse books project with money that was donated in memory of Reena Kling, z”l, always a staunch proponent of tzedakah and tikkun olam.
​
Finally, when a Little Free Pantry appeared in my neighborhood, I again thought that was something that would be in the Havurah’s sweet spot. I had no idea how it would take off! I wasn’t able to get it built as a time trade, but a former Havurah community member, Nathan Rome, built it as a volunteer. That people who came to the Havurah even decades ago continue to love it is one of my favorite things. Meanwhile, Todd had gotten active in supporting Somerville’s community refrigerators, and Monica had reached out to Saint Clement Church in Medford as part of a Sukkot ushpizin program, to invite guests into the Havurah sukkah. These two streams have combined so that the Saint Clement congregation is donating LOTS of food to the Havurah to distribute through the LFP and the community refrigerators.

I love these projects that the Havurah has undertaken, and the processes through which we work on them, the people who nurture them and the results of the Havurah being a good citizen in the neighborhood, knitting the local community together a little bit more snugly. I love that they combine so many of my favorite things, and of course, as you can see, the Havurah itself is one of my very favorite things.

Heidi Friedman is a long-time member of Havurat Shalom and on the board of one of the local time banks, the Time Trade Circle.

by Todd Kaplan

by Larry Rosenwald

In recent years, I’ve often led the musaf service on the second day of Rosh Hashanah, and whenever I do that, and come to the shofarot service, I recite Kadye Molodowsky’s poem der bal-tekie, The Shofar Blower. It’s heartbreaking, and might seem at odds with the joy we often feel hearing the shofar, and especially at the end of Yom Kippur, when the tekiah gedolah calls us back out of the fast to our amended lives. For me, though, the poem’s melancholy and the joyousness of the sound are in counterpoint, each reinforcing the other.

​Which is enough from me.  Here’s the poem, transliterated Yiddish and my translation side by side.

(Translation by Lawrence Rosenwald, with admiring acknowledgment of Kathryn Hellerstein’s beautiful earlier translation, from which he learned much.)

​Let the Shofar Sound
 
Let the shofar sound
Calling birds from their nests,
soldiers from their tanks,
music from flutes lying discarded.
 
Let the shofar sound
waking those who live in nightmares,
piercing the fog of confusion,
dispersing the myth of apathy.
 
Let the shofar sound
enticing us to dance,
forcing us to witness,
wringing tears from eyes tired of weeping.
 
Let the shofar sound
heralding our march to freedom,
ushering in an age of peace,
purging oil slicks from our souls.
 
Let the shofar sound
in mourning for the lost and the wasted,
in celebration of effervescent hopes,
in acknowledgment that we are here.

- by Cindy Blank-Edelman

by Monica Holland

Do you wrack your brain, wondering what more you can do to slow global warming and respond to the extreme weather we’re already experiencing, like the crazy heat waves we’ve had this summer? Or think about what you can do about urban heat islands, which the EPA says “occur when cities replace natural land cover with dense concentrations of pavement, buildings, and other surfaces that absorb and retain heat”? (https://www.epa.gov/green-infrastructure/reduce-urban-heat-island-effect) One of the best ways to forestall, or even reverse, the effects of urban heat islands is to enrich the tree canopy! With this in mind, and in conjunction with Communities Responding to Extreme Weather (CREW), the head the City of Somerville Urban Forestry Division spoke with us July 27 about how we can contribute to the vitality of young trees in Somerville.
 
Vanessa Boukili, the inaugural urban forester of Somerville (now Senior Urban Forestry & Landscape Planner in the Public Space and Urban Forestry Division), has for five years been leading a concerted effort to plant and care for street and park trees. Tasked with planting about 350 trees each year, Vanessa works closely with contractors and the Department of Public Works to select trees appropriate to the sites, carefully prepare the sites, and after planting, monitor the watering, mulching and pruning of these trees in their first years.
 
In addition to showing us some lovely oaks recently planted in Nathan Tufts Park, Vanessa gave us quite a bit of useful information about how we can help.

• Adopt a tree close to where you live or work. Each young tree has a green tag you can scan for information about it, and an explanation of what it means to “adopt” it.
• Water your adopted tree on a regular basis, weekly during dry periods in the summer months. Ideally, fill up its gator bag with a garden hose. (Here are filling instructions.) The gator bag allows water to slowly seep down to the roots and prevents runoff. If you can’t reach it with a hose, give the tree some water when you can. The city hires contractors to water trees in dry summer weeks for two years. After that, it’s up to us to give them water if it’s dry. Keep watering 3-5 years out.
• Zip the gator bag around one of the tree’s stakes, not around the trunk. All that moisture around the trunk can promote disease and rot. If it’s around the trunk, move it to a stake, preferably the uphill stake so the water can slowly flow downhill to the rootball.
• Keep weeds out of the tree well so the tree isn’t competing with the weeds for water and nutrients. Also, remove trash which can adversely affect the soil.
• Place 2”- 4” of mulch around the tree (though not within 6” of the trunk!) if the city’s contractor has not. This will help the soil retain moisture and nutrients.
• Remove suckers growing at the base of the tree if you are very careful not to injure the trunk. If the trunk is engulfed in suckers, call 311 and DPW will get on the case.
• Refrain from applying fertilizer around the tree.
• Refrain from pruning the tree. This is done by professionals three years after it’s planted, both to remove dead wood and to shape the canopy for optimal structure.
• Refrain from locking bicycles to trees. If you see a bike chained to a tree, call 311. A call to 311 is also a good way to: request a tree be planted by your house; ask that a dead tree be taken down; ask that a tree to be pruned; or register concern about the health or condition of a particular tree.
• Refrain from putting posters on trees, either with staples or nails. These can harm the tree.
• Try to encourage dog owners to steer their dogs away from peeing on young trees. Because dogs are carnivores, their urine is acidic and can burn plants and their root systems.

 
If you’re really into trees:

• Consider joining Somerville’s Urban Forestry Committee next time there’s an opening.
• Check out Somerville’s first-ever Urban Forestry Management Plan

•  If you’re interested in identifying the species of trees in Somerville, see the inventory map. Also, if you want to know what the City’s planted recently and what they’re planning on planting this fall, see https://www.somervillema.gov/departments/ospcd/psuf/urban-forestry.
• Join with friends and family to fund a memorial tree. The cost is $1,000, and trees come with ten years of care and a commemorative plaque.

By the way, have you noticed those large gaps in the newly poured sidewalks along College Avenue, adjacent to the Havurah? The City will be planted a number of trees on our block this fall! Perhaps we can adopt one or more of them.

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”