By Toby Klein Greenwald
Shira Lankin Sheps woke up on shvi’i shel Pesach, the seventh day of the holiday of Pesach (April 29 this year), with a vision, or in her words, “With a Divine download.” She saw a booklet of prayers, in English and Hebrew, written by women in the wake of October 7.
The next day, Isru Chag, she called Rachel Sharansky Danziger and Anne Gordon, who had been her writing partners once a week for five years and shared her vision with them. Her dream was to have the booklet ready for Rosh Hashanah. Each of them immediately said, “I’m in!”
“When I closed my eyes and saw the image of Miriam with her timbrels and the awestruck faces of the people, elated at their experience of redemption, what spoke to me most was the fact that Miriam and the women were ready for this triumphant moment.” Thus Lankin Sheps writes in the foreward to the book that materialized. “As I lay in bed thinking of Miriam…I realized that it was time to share this lifeline with other women.”
And so began the planning of a thin volume. At first, they thought about 100 pages. They thought to include their own prayers, and those of another few writers.
But creativity has a life of its own.
And so it was that about a week before Rosh Hashanah, a 505-page book (including introductions and bios), Az Nashir—We Will Sing Again: Women’s Prayers for our Time of Need, saw the light of day, with 116 prayers written by 55 women. Many of the authors are well known on the Israeli scene, as writers, poets, authors, educators, and creatives in a variety of areas. Some of them are newer to the public but were discovered and given a voice by the three editors.
Among the writers are Yael Unterman, Yael Shahar, Sherri Mandell, Nechama Goldman Barash, Yael Levine, Dr. Tanya White, Yael Ziegler, Sarah Tuttle-Singer, Jessica Levine Kupferberg, Ruti Eastman, and Sarah Sassoon. About two-thirds of the writers are “Anglos,” all of them women who were born here or who made aliyah to Israel, some recently, some many decades ago. The rest are native Hebrew speakers. It is the first book published by The Layers Press of The Shvilli Center, of which Shira is the executive director. Shira grew up on Long Island, and from the age of 9 lived in New Jersey—first Highland Park and then Fairlawn.
Every prayer appears on facing pages in both English and Hebrew, that have been diligently worked on by a dedicated team of translators, led by Juliana Brown and including Leah Reiner-Kornblit and Chana Shenderovich. The book includes 30 full-color pieces of exquisite artwork, also by women, of a number of nationalities (all of whom live in Israel today), including two by Avital Sharansky, Rachel’s mother. Other artists include Yael Harris Resnick, Inbal Singer, Sheva Chaya Shaiman, Leah Luria, Avigail Sapir, Yael Flatauer, Safira Lightstone, and Avigayil Wieder. The artwork on the glorious cover was designed by Malka Klein; the book cover graphics are by Yitzchak Woolf.
There are heartful prayers written by women who have sons or daughters, husbands, or grandchildren who are soldiers. There are prayers for the land, for the people, for children and for grandchildren (as was my own prayer). There are prayers for brotherhood and for faith, for safety and for mercy, for peace and for healing, for the hostages and for their families. There are prayers requesting, or demanding, responses from G-d, and there are prayers thanking G-d. There are prayers specific for women about pregnancy, mikvah, and challah; a prayer for agunot; and a prayer for finding a partner during wartime. There are prayers that are read like poetry, and those that draw from the well of mysticism. There are prayers for repentance, and prayers for redemption.
Sixteen of the 116 prayers were co-written by the three editors—in addition to their individual prayers—an unusual feat, as anyone who has ever co-written a creative work knows, and a testimony to their ability to think and create in sync with each other. One of those is called “A Prayer before Bed,” and they write (excerpt):
Heal my heart from today’s pains,
And may we have no more losses, tomorrow.
Grant me the gift of sleep,
To restore my soul from its grieving.
Bless me with more days,
Where I can continue to draw strength from Your revealed miracles,
And I may witness the final redemption,
Where all our days are lived,
In peace.
The editors say that the book is meant to be a companion to the Siddur. In their introduction they mention that the prayer of the childless Chana was “history-altering,” and note that, through the centuries, women wrote prayers, from Babylonia to Spain to the techines, starting in the Middle Ages, and Yiddish prayers, many of which were written by women, in their “mama-loshen.”
Indeed, many women posted on Facebook or in private messages that the book accompanied them during Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur. I received my own copy at a pre-holiday fair at the Oz VeGaon nature preserve in Gush Etzion and found myself reading some of the prayers before Rosh Hashanah and others after “Kol Nidrei” on Yom Kippur night.
To celebrate the creation of Az Nashir, a moving, exquisitely executed launch was held on October 9 at the Nefesh B’Nefesh campus in Jerusalem, in between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Almost 400 women filled the hall, where books sold like hotcakes, and where the artworks featured in the book were exhibited.
We heard the three co-editors describe their journey to this day, followed by songs appropriate for the Ten Days of Repentance—both haunting and uplifting, some even joyous—headlined by Nina Tokayer, who is one half of the husband and wife singing team, “Yonina.” (Her husband’s name is Yoni.) She was accompanied by the female musicians Roni Parnas on percussion and Daniel Arbely on the keyboard. One of the songs Nina played was her own contribution to the book, put to music, called “G-d of the Children.”
We smiled, we cried, we were inspired.
Interspersed between Nina’s songs, five women were called up, representing different perspectives, to read their prayers out loud—Rachel Weinstein, Briana Roven Grogin, Adina Kopinsky, this writer, and Miriam Ciner Friedman, who wrote one of the most heart-wrenching, “A Prayer for the Release of the Hostages” (excerpts):
Dear G-d, full of mercy
I lay my broken, yellow-ribboned heart at Your feet…
Have we ever needed a miracle more than at this moment?
With my tiny and insignificant voice
I make my own decree:
It’s time
For You to come out of hiding.
Give us a miracle
You can split the sea?
Then You can split those tunnels…
Bring them home
With a strong hand and an outstretched arm,
Carry them on the wings of eagles
To the embrace of their families,
To the embrace of their nation,
To the embrace of their land.
I want to hug each one,
Kiss their heads,
As I bow mine,
Entering a time of true freedom together.
The editors included two additional writer-musicians in the evening. Rabbanit Batya Hefter, who has a prayer in the book, and who had been a teacher of Anne Gordon’s, sang her recently recorded evocative song (that had been written many years ago) to the opening words of Psalm 27, that we read throughout the month of Elul, and until Hoshanah Rabbah, that begins with the words “L’David Hashem Ori” (“[A Psalm] of David, The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom should I fear?”) Nina harmonized with her. At the end of the evening, violinist Ariella Zeitlin Hoffman performed, and one of the songs she played, like Nina’s, had been her contribution to the book.
In the words of Shira at the launch: “We know the geulah (redemption) from Egypt came through righteous women. What if we are those righteous women to bring the final redemption? So I asked myself, What can we do to prepare for geulah right now? We knew that women would have the language for this moment in time…We need to sing. We need tefillah. We need to be together.”
Rachel said at the launch, “We are tying ourselves to each other…we’re tying ourselves to our foremothers who wrote techines, we are tying ourselves to Chana, mother of Shmuel, who said, ‘I’m not accepting reality…’” She noted that at the end of the tefillah “U’netana Tokef” we say that tefillah is one of the three things that can change reality.
Anne Gordon said that the fifty-five writers represent fifty-five different voices, across a whole range of society. “The project is to bring tefillah into the hearts and homes of everybody in different ways…We hope that whatever tears are spilled, whatever hearts are reached…connects us more to HaKadosh Baruch Hu…”
On October 13 an additional launch was held, at Yad Ben Zvi, this one in Hebrew, to a mixed-gender audience, that included a panel moderated by co-editor Rachel and remarks by her father, Natan Sharansky. Additional speakers were award-winning author Emuna Elon, former MK Tehila Friedman, and Rabbanit Dr. Tamar Meir, who are also contributors to the book.
Rachel said in her welcome that the editors realized how many women—and men—had expressed the feeling that they were “stuck” during this year. “We realized,” she said, “that tefillah does not just build a bridge between ourselves and G-d, but also between ourselves and each other…Everyone who writes a prayer frees something within someone else…and we are also building bridges with those women who wrote prayers before us…”
Natan Sharansky described how he also wrote prayers while he was in prison, “Because it was important to me that we don’t give in to them.” At that time, he said he was skeptical about G-d’s existence. His captors tried all kinds of threats and temptations to try to get him to expose other dissidents. He wanted his wife and Am Yisrael to also be strong. And how could he speak to his wife and with Am Yisrael, he thought. Only through prayer. He had only about a thousand words he knew in Hebrew, and didn’t really know prayers, other than some blessings, so he would say each time, as he was walking all the way to the interrogation room, “Blessed art thou G-d, Lord and King of the universe, Give me strength and courage and intelligence and luck and patience to get out of this prison and get to Eretz Yisrael in a straight and proper way. Afterwards,” he said, to the audience’s laughter, “someone corrected something in my grammar of the prayer but I think G-d understood me.” And when he did that several times a week, he felt that he was speaking to his wife and to Am Yisrael, and was building those bridges, as his daughter Rachel had described them.
Talia Haber, who grew up in Teaneck, NJ, read a heart-wrenching prayer she had written after her husband, Zechariah, z’l, fell in battle (excerpts):
You have to listen, Father of orphans and judge of widows, I am angry, hurt, and lonely.
Please help me raise my children to Torah, the wedding canopy, and good deeds…
Please give me the focus to be calm, the courage to laugh, and the humility to pray…
My husband didn’t come home. Please bring the rest of them home: hostages, soldiers, families – bring them back …
I am sorry I did not pray sooner.
Emuna Elon noted that the Hebrew word “l’hitpallel” means “to make yourself into someone who hopes. When I pray, I draw a line between myself and the One Above, between myself and the future, and to everyone who is with me in that first person plural of Am Yisrael.” She also said that her grandson, Hanoch, who had fought together with Zechariah Haber, was so heartbroken after Zechariah’s death, that he planted a vineyard in the memory of three friends who died in battle, including Zechariah. “The vines are already blooming,” she said.
Shira had also said at the English launch that after reading each prayer, she had a sense of hope. She shared some of her thoughts on October 9 and repeated them on Facebook the next day: “About ten years ago, when I was very sick from chronic illness, I desperately missed singing with others. Music has always been a way that I channeled into my sense of spirituality—the way I connected with G-d. My parents clearly had nevuah (prophecy) when they named me, as ‘Shira’ means song.
“I missed being with other women in a community, the connection, and the feeling of being a part of something larger than myself. In those painful times, I would sing to myself. Even if it hurt, I just needed to sing.
“What I prayed for, was a night like last night. When I could be returned to myself, to my community, to sing together in prayer. Thank you, Hashem, for bringing me to this day. Hodu la’Hashem ki tov.”
She concluded the October 9 launch by reading from the last prayer in the book, her own, called “A Prayer for Mashiach,” in which she writes (first and last verses brought here):
In the early weeks of the darkest month,
When the moon was blocked by fear,
And our blood was still soaking into the ground,
There were whispers that Your face was hidden…
Please –
Show us Your secret messianic vision
We are ready with our timbrels by the door,
Eager to rush into the streets of Your holy city,
Songs of praise freed from our throats,
Feet flying with dance,
As we usher in a new era.
Those of us who had the privilege of contributing, the joy of attending one of the launches, or the experience of now having the book to read and to pray from, are witnesses to a deeply meaningful landmark project that will be on our bookshelves and held in our hands for many years to come.
May the new era come speedily, in our days. n
The author is an award-winning journalist and theater director and editor-in-chief of WholeFamily.com.
