The Most Beautiful Siddur I Have Ever Seen

I bought a new siddur. It’s not that I don’t have enough, but this one is very, very special. My dear colleague, Rabbi Adam Zagoria Moffet – together with Isaac Treuherz, has just published Siddur Masorti – the first-ever Hebrew-English, egalitarian, fully-transliterated, Sephardi (phew!) Siddur. Looking at it feels like looking at the future, or rather it makes every other Siddur on my groaning shelves look distinctly passé.

The first thing that strikes is the beauty. It’s a labour of love executed with tremendous graphic style. The Hebrew layout is driven by meaning and the dynamic of prayer; central terms dominate, poetry breathes as it cascades down the page. You can feel rhythms and watch rhymes. Colour becomes a hypertext, the main text is black, but the appearance of orange on the page, in both the Hebrew and English, links to a commentary – and the commentaries are precise, insightful and steeped in learning.

Hebrew appears on the left of the page, English on the right – it’s a shift from the Siddurim of my youth, but a much better way to appreciate the relationship between the two languages with the eyes able to move from the centre of a spread to the outside with more ease. (I think Reb Zalman – who would have loved this Siddur – pioneered that idea). The rubrics (bowing, standing and the like) are displayed on the page with a style so classy, it’s almost witty. It’s really very impressive.

Alongside the Hebrew and the English is a full transliteration, following a formal academic convention. That’s befitting for a Sephardi project (the Sephardim are known for their passion for grammar). I’ve never seriously engaged with these conventions before, but I have a whole new appreciation for how these technical elements allow similar-sounding Hebrew letters and vowels (including the Shva) to be so clearly differentiated – it’s a transliteration that honours Hebrew, and, I think, will draw non-Hebrew readers into a closer relationship with the language of our faith.

Then there is the translation; in particular the translation of God. The Tetragrammaton is … simply not translated, rather the Hebrew letters appear in the midst of the English, beggaring our ability to express the inexpressible. It’s a decision that makes the androcentric ‘LORD’ used in the 2006 Sacks Siddur feel very clunky. And when it comes to pronouns for God, Rabbi Adam uses ‘They, Their, Them etc.’ In an introductory note, he acknowledges that that decision will appear ‘odd or even potentially heretical,’ but argues persuasively (to me at least) that God is beyond the assumption of masculinity that the English pronoun ‘he’ demands, but the Hebrew pronoun ‘Hu’ does not. Then he shares this, “Hebrew has already introduced to us a plural noun for a singular subject (and singular verbs) with the common divine appellation Elohim.” It takes a while for someone steeped in Hebrew prayer to realise what this siddur makes so explicit. The Hebrew word Elohim comes in the plural form, but – when referring to the One God – is twinned with singular verbs. Hebrew has been using a plural term to refer to the Singularity for centuries. The oddity of referring to God in a phrase such as ‘They creates’ matches perfectly the oddity of the Hebrew words that open the entire Torah, ‘Bara Elohim’ with its plural noun and singular verb.

There’s more to say; about the appearance of Miriam and the matriarchs, about call-up options for men, women and those who identify as non-binary, the Ladino, the beautiful line drawings …. It really is very, very special. At present Siddur Masorti only exists in a weekday edition. I know a Shabbat version is, at the very least, under consideration. I’ll have a copy with me in services in the coming weeks, and you can also read more, see sample pages and order copies at http://siddurmasorti.com/. 

Bravo Adam, proud to have you as a colleague.

What is Midrash?

A Midrash is a short text usually appearing in a classic Rabbinic work from the first six centuries of the common era (Bereishit Rabba, Mekhilta, Sifra etc).

The word itself is a conjugation of the Hebrew root D-R-SH, to seek. It is the paradigmatic way Rabbis engage with earlier canonical texts (usually but not exclusively Biblical verses) to … well to do all kinds of things.

There is a vast school of Midrash – known as Midrash Halacha - dedicated to explaining how every aspect of Rabbinic law can be derived from (often microscopically close and highly creative) reading of Biblical verses. But my great love is for Midrash Agada – folkloric, or narrative based, Midrash.

The Biblical verse relays that Cain said something to Abel before murdering him, but no words are reported. Most translators use ellipses, as if Cain has been rendered speechless but Midrash suggests the brothers argued as to who would inherit the world, or win the location of the Temple in their territory, or …. The point isn’t to solve a ‘gap,’ in the way a palaeontologist solves gaps in a fossil record, but rather to exploit openings to be creative; harnessing a love and staggering command of the Biblical canon to render one verse capable of bearing additional or new meaning, often by juxtaposing it with another.

The Holy Blessed One, said to Abraham, “You said, "Let a little water be brought [for the angels who came to visit you]" (Gen. 18:4). By your life, I [God] shall repay your descendants [by providing water for them]; in the wilderness as it is said, "Then Israel sang this song:  Spring up, O well" (Num. 21:17), in the land [of Israel]?  "A land with streams" (Deut. 8:7) and in the time to come, "In that day, fresh water shall flow" (Zech. 14:8).

Bereishit Rabba 48:10

This passage, one of six(!) correlating reward in the wilderness, the land and the future to hospitable actions Abraham performed for his visitors) is about more than an expression of Biblical command. It inspires, in its readers, acts of kindness performed for strangers, after all such actions motivate far off re-actions. And it serves as a gentle reminder that the world has a destiny, it is going to be OK; just as Israel survived the wilderness and entered the land, so too we can have hope for the time to come. But don’t imagine Midrash tends towards the pious, Midrash is impish and fearless, poking fun at Rabbis and Romans with equal panache, and even taking on God who can emerge as forgetful, priggish, even abusive, often through the Midrashic technique of parable or Mashal.

In the Biblical account, God calls Abraham to, go before me and be pure. “Mashal – what is this like? Like a King stumbling in the darkness who calls on someone to light up their way.” (Bereishit Rabba 30:10). Abraham is called, so are we all. Heschel, surely, was thinking of this Midrash when he chose the title of his greatest work, God in Search of Man. Bakers knead dough, and painters sketch. Rabbinic Jews Drosh. In doing so we seek God, but often find God in search of us.

I teach, and stream, a weekly class in Bereishit Rabba, Tuesdays 12:30. Contact rabbi@newlondon.org.uk for more information.