Thoughts on the Amidah in a Pandemic

by Edward Hamburg

Like so many congregations around the world during the coronavirus pandemic, mine on the Southside of Chicago has maintained the responsibilities, disciplines, and gifts of a daily morning minyan. 

The format is, of course, quite different. Video-conferencing platforms designed for business meetings imperfectly replicate the context of regular minyanim. Parts soulfully sung in unison are rendered painful as software sound delays combine with variations in microphone and voice quality, kavanah is elusive as participants fiddle with their computer cameras, and rhythms are interrupted by barking dogs, crying children, and task-oriented spouses unloading dishwashers.

But the positives clearly outweigh the negatives. These electronic gatherings enabled Hallel to be recited on Rosh Chodesh and Passover, Kaddish to be said by mourners and for yahrzeits, Torah portions to be read each Monday and Thursday, and communities to have a sense of normalcy and solidarity during a time of fear and isolation. 

As I’ve settled in as a regular electronic minyan participant, my reading of the Amidah portion of the daily morning liturgy has changed with each passing week of the pandemic. Not with all of its 19 blessings. I’m still good with recalling our ancestors, anticipating the resuscitation of the dead (although it’s a little creepy), and thanking God for granting us intelligence, welcoming repentance, forgiving our sins, redeeming the people Israel, sustaining righteous scholars, sending (at some point) the Messiah, and bestowing the gift of peace. I still delight in affirming my appreciation of the daily miracles around us and how they attest to God’s goodness. A few years ago, when davening on my own, I started skipping the requests for the restoration of the Temple and the return of God’s presence to Zion. Past, present, and future circumstances in Israel only reenforce my decision to continue these exclusions. 

Since being sequestered, however, my connections to six other Amidah blessings have deepened considerably. These connections have little to do with their underlying rabbinic explanations, but reflect instead how the words of the liturgy resonate with me at this point in my life.  

The first of these six is an obvious one: 

Heal us, God, and we will be healed. Help us and save us, for You are our glory. Grant perfect healing for all our afflictions, for You are the faithful and merciful God of healing. Praised are you God, healer of your people Israel. 

All of the Amidah blessings are expressed in the plural, but in this one for healing we are invited to insert personal entreaties for people we personally hope will benefit from our supportive thoughts. I usually try to remember as many names as I can, and have recently focused on a wonderful cousin going through another round of chemotherapy.  

The pandemic has broadened the scope of this blessing for me. While asking many times for God’s help in healing particular people or groups, I can’t recall ever requesting such assistance for everyone on the entire planet. I do now. Everyday. 

God, make this a blessed year. May its varied produce bring us happiness. Grant dew and rain for blessing upon the earth, satisfy us with its abundance, and bless our year as the best of years. Praised are you, God, who blesses the years.

Every reading of this second blessing makes me think about the terrible imbalance with which the “varied produce that brings happiness” is actually distributed, and that too many persist through years that have never been blessed. The prevailing levels of economic inequality in this country should distress every one of us. That it doesn’t — even when the odds of dying in this pandemic are so much determined by one’s economic status — testifies to how such injustice is tacitly accepted and embedded in our lives.

The pandemic has heightened my already profound appreciation for the share of abundance I’ve received throughout my life. With this Amidah blessing, my appreciation is now expressed with renewed and deeper meaning, along with a renewed and even deeper sorrow for those whose daily struggles have become living nightmares.   

Sound the great shofar to herald our freedom; raise high the banner to gather all exiles. Gather the dispersed from the ends of the earth. Praised are you, God, who gathers the dispersed of the people Israel.

For me, this third blessing has always been about my own Jewish community. Situated on the south side of the city, worlds away from the kosher markets, large synagogues, and gleaming JCC’s to the north, we work very hard to sustain what was, until recently, a very fragile congregational entity. Divine assistance has been required to keep us together over the years, and this blessing enables me to regularly appreciate my community as a gift that should never be taken for granted. 

How we and other Jewish communities have responded to the pandemic is nothing short of remarkable. Extensive efforts providing care, comfort, and support are only matched by innovations in how we worship, celebrate, and educate ourselves and our children. It’s exciting to think about how these experiences might be integrated into our future un-sequestered Jewish lives. This blessing to gather the people Israel now provides regular moments for me to contemplate such opportunities and possibilities.  

Restore our judges as in the days of old; restore our counselors as in former times. Remove sorrow and anguish from our lives. Reign over us, God, You alone, with lovingkindness and mercy; with justice sustain our cause. Praised are You, God, Sovereign who loves justice with compassion.

Even before the pandemic, this fourth Amidah blessing consistently made me think about the dark political times we’ve faced as Americans over the past few years. I can’t recall a time when so many of our judges, counselors, leaders, and advisors were so dedicated to serving the interests of established powers, and doing so in the most efficient, harsh, and destructive ways imaginable. 

What makes their efforts so efficient is a conservative political ideology that minimizes (if not delegitimizes) the role of government, and prioritizes, above all else, the preservation of traditional social hierarchies, the protection of private wealth, and the defense of individual rights to pursue the ends they desire through the means they deem necessary. The harsh destructiveness that results is evident in the racism, misogyny, pollution, education inequality, inadequate heath care, urban and rural blight, and economic despondency that is so prevalent, for so long, in American society.

This pandemic is only further revealing the harsh consequences of the political agenda conservatives have relentlessly worked to establish. With this Amidah blessing, I’m invariably reminded that political conservatives are not just reasonable people with whom I disagree; they are opponents to defeat in a struggle over fundamental values and beliefs. The blessing’s call for the restoration of judges and counselors committed to removing the anguish in our lives will only happen when we elect and appoint leaders guided by the principles of lovingkindness and mercy — and who, like God, love justice with compassion.

Frustrate the hopes of all those who malign us. Let all evil soon disappear; let all your enemies soon be destroyed. May You quickly uproot and crush the arrogant; may You subdue and humble them in our time. Praised are you, God, who humbles the arrogant.

Since November 2016 my thoughts on this fifth blessing have focused on Donald Trump. I’ve confronted arrogance many times in my life in many different contexts, but his election has enabled a powerful critical mass of conceit, hubris, and pomposity to exercise authority in ways I’ve only read about in accounts of bad historical periods. Each pandemic day exposes more of the unbridled arrogance of Trump and the Republicans. This blessing regularly provides me an opportunity to recall how, in other times and circumstances, such evil has indeed disappeared and such enemies have been vanquished. It also encourages me to hope that the arrogant can be subdued and humbled in our time. 

It’s only appropriate that Jews celebrated the Passover holiday in the midst of this pandemic. During our Seder reading about the “wicked” of the famous four sons in the traditional Haggadah, I was reminded of how wickedness can so often be exhibited by people many find attractive, convincing, and charismatic. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Herschel warns us that “evil often thrives in the guise of what is good, that we live in a world where idols may be rich with beauty and the worship of God tinged with wickedness.” This dreadful confusion of good and evil, he maintains, is at the root of the greatest problems in human history.

Trump and the Republicans are, to me, living embodiments of the wicked son. What makes them the consistent focus of this Amidah blessing are their abilities, with the help of manipulative partners, to enlist so many as enthusiastic followers. My response must be to stand as the wise son, joining with others to aggressively confront “this dreadful confusion of good and evil” that envelops us politically. The words of the blessing are an almost daily reminder of how we must continually strengthen our resolve to do so. 

Hear our voice God. Have compassion upon us, pity us. Accept our prayer with loving favor. You listen to entreaty and prayer. Do not turn us away unanswered, our Sovereign, for You mercifully heed Your people’s supplication. Praised are You God, who listens to prayer. 

To this sixth blessing I say, as never before, “Amen.”

Edward Hamburg serves on the boards of directors of high-technology companies as well as such Jewish organizations as Sicha: The Conversation and The Institute for the Next Jewish Future. His other essays, “The Ten Protocols of Electronic Davening,” “Thoughts on Prayer and Liturgy,” and “Thoughts on Saying Amen,” were posted on ejewishphilanthropy.