Heart Work

Project coordinated by Elana Moskowitz

During these days, we turn to Hashem in prayer — some from the polished wooden benches in shul and others from the corner of our living room. But wherever we find ourselves, davening can be incredibly challenging — and entirely transformative. Here, a collection of essays, tips, and halachos to enhance your tefillah

Heart Work

Bashie Lisker

We’ve gathered here to talk about our davening — what it is, what it isn’t, and what we want it to be. “I keep coming back to that image of the Yiddishe mamma who tzinds licht with tears streaming down her face,” Brachi says. “Her child grows up to be the gadol hador. That woman haunts me every week. Some weeks I do cry. Some I don’t. Some, I’m so tired that I’m counting the seconds until I can sit down.” Her kids aren’t standing in silent awe — they’re scrambling for missing shoes or fighting or already in shul.

Reena is even more hesitant. “Every siddur play, I listen to the song they’re singing and just look at those little girls and wonder, ‘Does each one of them think that they’re the only one whose mother doesn’t always cry when she bentshes licht?’”

Are we selling an unrealistic image of tefillah to girls and women that makes us feel deficient?

My mornings are a rush of buses and carpools and ponytails and missing shoes. More often than not, my davening is at the bus stop, interrupted by a neighbor who hasn’t noticed what I’m doing or a toddler who doesn’t care. It feels like a personal thing, to turn to other women and say how do you manage? So I don’t. Sometimes, I think it’s because I’m afraid to broach the topic and get an I don’t. More often, I’m afraid that the answer will be how can you not?