by Shifra Lilith Freewoman
Take a trip with me down Memory Lane of history/herstory of my years at the Havurah, always a safe, open, freeing sacred place to be myself in a Jewish community. So many of us who did not feel included or welcome elsewhere, like women, LGBTQ people or interfaith couples were and are welcome here.
I first heard of Havurat Shalom from Sharon Strassfeld, in 1978. She was one of the very early and important members. She and her husband at the time, Michael, along with Danny Seigel, wrote the 3 volume Jewish Catalogue featuring the picture of our macrame Torah cover that is still at the Havurah to this day. Sharon taught at my day school, the New England Hebrew Academy, a Lubavitch Yeshiva, and mentioned the Havurah. At that time, though I was nominally Orthodox, I chafed at the restrictions on women. I hated the mehitzah, wanted to be called up to the Torah and be a part of the minyan. I wanted to be a Rabbi. And when I said women should be counted in a minyan, I got ridicule, disgust and shaming; it was quite scary to speak up. I also was gay and there was ZERO acceptance.
So, when I heard about Havurat Shalom, I came and stayed over for Shabbes in the back room, the same guest room I sleep in when I come to Havurah now. I spent many happy Shabbats at the Hav. I was hooked. It was my safe space, because I was not safe at home. There was acceptance, and it was a thrill to lift the Torah and be a part of the minyan. I loved the kavanah, the singing. There was the same devout spirit of the Orthodox community, but with equality for women and acceptance of gay people. Since I was used to Hebrew, I liked the services. I could have Yiddishkeit without exclusion and intolerance. Had it not been for the Havurah, I might just have abandoned Judaism. That was true for many of us. In the 1970s the only other shul that accepted gay people was Am Tikvah, the Boston area gay synagogue.
Younger people may not understand how difficult it was to be gay in the Jewish community at that time. The Havurah and Am Tikva, for a long time, were the only places with full acceptance. Now it is very different and most non-Orthodox shuls are pretty accepting. The movement succeeded, but back in the day the Hav was one of the only spaces that welcomed us whole heartedly.
There was an openness to non-Jews and interfaith couples. I have never been one to like insularity. I often felt that I could not breathe in the Orthodox community, because of so many rules and walls between men and women and Jews and non-Jews. At the Hav I could relax, breathe free, feel accepted and see others accepted and extend this acceptance. I loved being part of the davening, not apart from it. It's very different to pray from behind a mehitzah/divider than to pray with a group of people. I was no longer an outsider. I liked seeing women lead, be called to the Torah and be part of the minyan. I could sing and be a part of the community, not seen as a distraction for men.
At Havurat Shalom, it was wonderful to be with women and men, welcomed, to be with powerful women and men who liked having women included. Now that I have been at the Havurah for decades, and now that so many shuls include women and welcome gay people, it has become a part of my normal rhythm. But then it was extraordinary. It is easy 46 years later to take equality for granted, but at the time, it was pathbreaking, quite radical. I remember when group of women who were not bat mitzvahed as youngsters, got Bat Mitzvahed as grown women at the Havurah. It was very moving.
Earlier, people lived at the Havurah. The house was often full with as many as 7 people. I lived at the Havurah many times. When we prayed Shivtee Bi Bayt Hashem, I dwell in the house of God, it had a special meaning, because I literally was dwelling in the House of God.
A highlight of my time at the Havurah was when we decided to become a sanctuary synagogue in the 1980s. New Jewish Agenda became involved in the larger Sanctuary Movement, where churches took in refugees from El Salvador and Guatemala. Thousands of Salvadorans and Guatemalans were jailed and murdered for asking for basic services. Liberation Theology was espousing a gospel of justice for the poor, with many churches, some with no priests, standing up for the campesinos/peasants and building a just society. Hundreds of thousands fled, and it was very hard for these refugees to get asylum, because the US supported their oppressive governments.
The impetus for Jewish involvement in Sanctuary was that Jews were angry that during the holocaust so relatively few non-Jews saved Jews. Therefore, we felt it important that we Jews were willing to do what we wanted Christians to do, save lives of people of a different background. So we did.
After many meetings and much planning, the Havurah took in a young man who had fled El Salvador and was in detention in San Francisco. We bailed him out and he came to live at the Havurah. I lived there at the time, along with Sarah Lisniansky, a key worker for Sanctuary. The Havurah got him work, and speaking engagements. He spoke of how he fled when some of his family were murdered for asking for electricity and running water, and how he had to go through Honduras, Nicaragua, and Mexico before getting into the States.
I felt grateful and proud to be part of a community that helped save someone's life and worked for justice for a country facing much oppression. The Havurah's early stance as a Sanctuary Synagogue set the stage for larger, more mainstream Jewish communities to join and become sanctuaries as well.
During the 1980s the Havurah decided to write an adapted version of the prayer book, Birkat Shalom, Blessings of Peace. It was important to have a Siddur that saw God as female as well as male. Because Hebrew is gendered, this takes work. We were never just interested in changing grammar. This was a soul project, not a mechanical one; some people wrote their own beautiful prayers and new translations. We changed to language to be respectful to other religions, and took the focus off of hierarchy. Rather than calling for the destruction of wicked people, we called for wickedness to be destroyed and for evil doers to change.
More recently, the Siddur included adaptations to be inclusive of transgender, intersex and non-binary people, so that trans and non-binary people feel included and welcome. It is challenging to use non gendered language in Hebrew because almost all of Hebrew words have a gender, so we do what we can.
The Havurah has been and continues to be involved in social justice on many fronts, from feeding the neighborhood with our little free pantry, to providing free books to people through our little free library - thus feeding both body and soul - to helping with the local community fridges, to working with local churches to help Haitians coming into Somerville, to standing up for immigrants and with many members standing up to ICE, to working to stop unscrupulous developers, to supporting the Black community, to providing space for local groups working to end the killing and the blockade in Gaza, to help hostages get their freedom and to stop the violence in the West Bank, to standing up for the rights of LGBTQ people, to working for a sustainable environment and other issues. The Havurah has always stood for peace, justice and love.
Recently, I derive great naches-pleasure from helping Merit with filling the little free food pantry, especially when I get to interact with the people who come for food. I am proud to know that we are feeding people who otherwise would go hungry or not be able to eat enough. I feel a great love for the Havurah, to still be able to come and stay in my old safe space that welcomed me as a very young woman 47 years ago.
From the sixties, when men were trying to find a meaningful Judaism that was not about the car you drove or your clothes, to their commitment to civil rights and ending the Vietnam war, to efforts to get out of the draft and start an alternative rabbinical school, to the 70s and the burgeoning women's and lgbt movements, to the days of the Havurah being a literal sanctuary in addition to being a sanctuary for me and others, to our work for inclusion of trans people and non-binary people, to our efforts to be a welcoming, inclusive community of peace during these heartbreaking times, we hope you join us and continue to live the vision of justice, mercy and peace in this new century. Welcome to Havurat Shalom, Welcome Home.
I first heard of Havurat Shalom from Sharon Strassfeld, in 1978. She was one of the very early and important members. She and her husband at the time, Michael, along with Danny Seigel, wrote the 3 volume Jewish Catalogue featuring the picture of our macrame Torah cover that is still at the Havurah to this day. Sharon taught at my day school, the New England Hebrew Academy, a Lubavitch Yeshiva, and mentioned the Havurah. At that time, though I was nominally Orthodox, I chafed at the restrictions on women. I hated the mehitzah, wanted to be called up to the Torah and be a part of the minyan. I wanted to be a Rabbi. And when I said women should be counted in a minyan, I got ridicule, disgust and shaming; it was quite scary to speak up. I also was gay and there was ZERO acceptance.
So, when I heard about Havurat Shalom, I came and stayed over for Shabbes in the back room, the same guest room I sleep in when I come to Havurah now. I spent many happy Shabbats at the Hav. I was hooked. It was my safe space, because I was not safe at home. There was acceptance, and it was a thrill to lift the Torah and be a part of the minyan. I loved the kavanah, the singing. There was the same devout spirit of the Orthodox community, but with equality for women and acceptance of gay people. Since I was used to Hebrew, I liked the services. I could have Yiddishkeit without exclusion and intolerance. Had it not been for the Havurah, I might just have abandoned Judaism. That was true for many of us. In the 1970s the only other shul that accepted gay people was Am Tikvah, the Boston area gay synagogue.
Younger people may not understand how difficult it was to be gay in the Jewish community at that time. The Havurah and Am Tikva, for a long time, were the only places with full acceptance. Now it is very different and most non-Orthodox shuls are pretty accepting. The movement succeeded, but back in the day the Hav was one of the only spaces that welcomed us whole heartedly.
There was an openness to non-Jews and interfaith couples. I have never been one to like insularity. I often felt that I could not breathe in the Orthodox community, because of so many rules and walls between men and women and Jews and non-Jews. At the Hav I could relax, breathe free, feel accepted and see others accepted and extend this acceptance. I loved being part of the davening, not apart from it. It's very different to pray from behind a mehitzah/divider than to pray with a group of people. I was no longer an outsider. I liked seeing women lead, be called to the Torah and be part of the minyan. I could sing and be a part of the community, not seen as a distraction for men.
At Havurat Shalom, it was wonderful to be with women and men, welcomed, to be with powerful women and men who liked having women included. Now that I have been at the Havurah for decades, and now that so many shuls include women and welcome gay people, it has become a part of my normal rhythm. But then it was extraordinary. It is easy 46 years later to take equality for granted, but at the time, it was pathbreaking, quite radical. I remember when group of women who were not bat mitzvahed as youngsters, got Bat Mitzvahed as grown women at the Havurah. It was very moving.
Earlier, people lived at the Havurah. The house was often full with as many as 7 people. I lived at the Havurah many times. When we prayed Shivtee Bi Bayt Hashem, I dwell in the house of God, it had a special meaning, because I literally was dwelling in the House of God.
A highlight of my time at the Havurah was when we decided to become a sanctuary synagogue in the 1980s. New Jewish Agenda became involved in the larger Sanctuary Movement, where churches took in refugees from El Salvador and Guatemala. Thousands of Salvadorans and Guatemalans were jailed and murdered for asking for basic services. Liberation Theology was espousing a gospel of justice for the poor, with many churches, some with no priests, standing up for the campesinos/peasants and building a just society. Hundreds of thousands fled, and it was very hard for these refugees to get asylum, because the US supported their oppressive governments.
The impetus for Jewish involvement in Sanctuary was that Jews were angry that during the holocaust so relatively few non-Jews saved Jews. Therefore, we felt it important that we Jews were willing to do what we wanted Christians to do, save lives of people of a different background. So we did.
After many meetings and much planning, the Havurah took in a young man who had fled El Salvador and was in detention in San Francisco. We bailed him out and he came to live at the Havurah. I lived there at the time, along with Sarah Lisniansky, a key worker for Sanctuary. The Havurah got him work, and speaking engagements. He spoke of how he fled when some of his family were murdered for asking for electricity and running water, and how he had to go through Honduras, Nicaragua, and Mexico before getting into the States.
I felt grateful and proud to be part of a community that helped save someone's life and worked for justice for a country facing much oppression. The Havurah's early stance as a Sanctuary Synagogue set the stage for larger, more mainstream Jewish communities to join and become sanctuaries as well.
During the 1980s the Havurah decided to write an adapted version of the prayer book, Birkat Shalom, Blessings of Peace. It was important to have a Siddur that saw God as female as well as male. Because Hebrew is gendered, this takes work. We were never just interested in changing grammar. This was a soul project, not a mechanical one; some people wrote their own beautiful prayers and new translations. We changed to language to be respectful to other religions, and took the focus off of hierarchy. Rather than calling for the destruction of wicked people, we called for wickedness to be destroyed and for evil doers to change.
More recently, the Siddur included adaptations to be inclusive of transgender, intersex and non-binary people, so that trans and non-binary people feel included and welcome. It is challenging to use non gendered language in Hebrew because almost all of Hebrew words have a gender, so we do what we can.
The Havurah has been and continues to be involved in social justice on many fronts, from feeding the neighborhood with our little free pantry, to providing free books to people through our little free library - thus feeding both body and soul - to helping with the local community fridges, to working with local churches to help Haitians coming into Somerville, to standing up for immigrants and with many members standing up to ICE, to working to stop unscrupulous developers, to supporting the Black community, to providing space for local groups working to end the killing and the blockade in Gaza, to help hostages get their freedom and to stop the violence in the West Bank, to standing up for the rights of LGBTQ people, to working for a sustainable environment and other issues. The Havurah has always stood for peace, justice and love.
Recently, I derive great naches-pleasure from helping Merit with filling the little free food pantry, especially when I get to interact with the people who come for food. I am proud to know that we are feeding people who otherwise would go hungry or not be able to eat enough. I feel a great love for the Havurah, to still be able to come and stay in my old safe space that welcomed me as a very young woman 47 years ago.
From the sixties, when men were trying to find a meaningful Judaism that was not about the car you drove or your clothes, to their commitment to civil rights and ending the Vietnam war, to efforts to get out of the draft and start an alternative rabbinical school, to the 70s and the burgeoning women's and lgbt movements, to the days of the Havurah being a literal sanctuary in addition to being a sanctuary for me and others, to our work for inclusion of trans people and non-binary people, to our efforts to be a welcoming, inclusive community of peace during these heartbreaking times, we hope you join us and continue to live the vision of justice, mercy and peace in this new century. Welcome to Havurat Shalom, Welcome Home.
Shifra Lilith Freewoman is a long-time member of Havurat Shalom.
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