This issue of the JOFA Journal is devoted to the subject of prayer. Maimonides believed that prayer once a day, every day, is a Torah based obligation, and one that is required of men and women alike. Prayer is a topic that we, as Orthodox Jews, often find difficult to discuss. Many of our halakhic practices are so ingrained in our lifestyle that we carry them out without giving much thought to what we are doing—and with prayer, to what we are saying. We must, however, overcome our discomfort and confront an issue that is very important to the Orthodox community.
A major challenge we face is how to make our prayers meaningful—to pray with sincerity—when our siddur is set and unchanging. This is a dilemma we all face, men and women. For women, however, the problem of prayer is even more poignant. Most often, the text ignores the fact that women are also praying. I can think of only one siddur in which the morning blessings include the grammatical forms for both men and women. The prayers evoke the patriarchs, almost never the matriarchs. I am moved at the blowing of the shofar but when we say the prayer that follows which asks God to treat us with mercy “as a father is merciful to his children (sons)”, I feel excluded. I am often troubled that the language of God is all male. When tachanun (the group of penitential prayers said on Mondays and Thursdays in the morning service) speaks of being despised like the blood of a menstruant, I am saddened. And on Friday nights, when I read ba’meh madlikin, and I reach the passage about women dying in childbirth as a punishment for neglecting to be careful with three commandments: lighting candles, mikvah and challah, I am pained.
I do not have a solution. For now I can only present the problem and hopefully open up a dialogue. Many synagogues, sensitive to these issues, have included the matriarchs in certain prayers. Many have ceased saying out loud the blessing thanking God for not creating one a woman. Many have stopped saying tachanun on Mondays and Thursdays when a bride is present or a baby girl is born, just as they do for a groom and a baby boy’s birth. I applaud the courageous rabbis who have made these changes.
I have been conducting an informal survey over the last month. I have asked many women if they find that the language of the siddur hinders their prayer. The first friend I asked immediately responded that what bothered her was Tefillat Geshem (the prayer for rain that is said on Shemini Atzeret). Surprised, I asked her why. Because, she said, the composers of the prayer obviously worked so hard at trying to find males that had something to do with water when we have Miriam, who we are told was responsible for providing water during forty years in the desert, and she is not mentioned! The next friend I asked about God always being referred to as king and father also told me that it did not bother her—but what did make her furious was the prayer Hu Ya’anenu (He Will Answer Us) in Selichot and in Ma’ariv after Kol Nidrei. All this text about men whom God has answered and nowhere is there mention of Rivkah or Hannah and so many other women that God also answered. Many of the women I spoke to still feel upset when they hear the blessing “shelo asani isha” (who has not made me a woman) And many told me that in their heads they add the matriarchs when they pray. I also spoke to a woman who told me that she is, as I am, bothered by shirat ha’yam (the song at the crossing of the Red Sea) that is recited every morning. It ends so abruptly and leaves out the two beautiful sentences about Miriam and the women singing and dancing with joy. These two sentences would have acknowledged the women as part of the miracle.
My brother and I were discussing prayer the other day. He pointed out to me that the word for prayer in Hebrew—l’hitpallel—is reflexive. He sees it as meaning that prayer gives us the opportunity to turn inward—to focus on our lives and our relationships. This made me think of all the positive aspects of tefillah. I love the end of the Amidah where we say “ntzor leshoni merah”—guard my mouth against speaking evil. And I am always moved when I get to the section in Modim that thanks God for the everyday miracles— and I stop to think of my family, my friends, my good fortune.
On Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur before the beginning of the musaf service, the hazan says a special prayer asking that he be worthy to lead the congregation. It is extremely moving and towards the end he says:
V’al y’hi shum michshol b’tefillati And let there be no stumbling block before my prayers.
These words resonate for me. It is my wish that we can all find a way to make our prayers meaningful so that we can pray b’lev maleh simcha—with hearts full of gladness.