In the seventy-six years since the founding of the State of Israel – and especially in the last decade – quite a few machzorim and siddurim made specially for Israel’s Independence Day, as well as Jerusalem Day, have been published in the Holy Land.
These siddurim and machzorim appeared in a variety of social contexts, often very different from one another. Some were independently published by individual communities such as kibbutzim or settlements and yeshivahs affiliated with the religious Zionist community. Some were accompanied by writings on halacha and custom by major rabbis such as Rabbi Moshe Tzvi Neriah, Rabbi Yaakov Ariel, Rabbi Uri Cherki, and Rabbi Yoel Bin Nun. Some came out during the country’s first years and left no real impression, while others have become a regular fixture of synagogues in Israel and abroad. Aside from the designated machzorim, Israeli national prayers have also been included in complete siddurim, in a variety of emphases and versions.
By their very existence, these siddurim attest to the fact that a general, national approach to prayer during Israel’s state holidays has yet to be established – for religious, ideological, and social reasons. However, given this unfortunate phenomenon, the machzor published in 2013 and edited by Rabbi Benny Lau and Yoel Rafel and published by Koren is a fairly unique occurrence, one worthy of particular attention.
In my view, at least, one of this machzor’s most prominent advantages is that it looks like an ordinary siddur. It is nice looking, well-designed, hard-bound in (“national?”) blue, and is about as big as the average siddur or machzor. This sets it apart from other machzorim published over the years, which were often accompanied by pictures and which straddled the line between machzor, album, and a machshavah book. Koren is thus making a statement: the holiness of this day is so obvious, that it needs no artificial bolstering beyond the prayers themselves.
Another significant trait of the Koren machzor is the calculated decision of its editors not to exclusively choose one of the nusachim used for these days, instead presenting the congregant with all the options used by communities throughout Israel: Hallel with or without a bracha, Torah and Haftarah readings, al hanissim in its various forms, and so on. In some cases, this is done by gently shading passages of prayer or reading which many do not say, and elsewhere with a brief explainer on the different approaches at the page’s margins.
In this way, the possessor of the machzor can not only learn about the different customs, but also try and reconsider how he himself observes the holiday. True, some see this refusal to make a choice as mere indecision, but the advantages of this choice are also fairly clear. While reading the brief comments and halachic surveys, it is easy to conclude that any attempt to halachically determine what should and what shouldn’t be included in such matters is problematic, and that each custom has some support.
The responsibility for deciding which custom to follow therefore falls on the shoulders of the congregant and the community. In this sense, the very raising of the different possibilities can encourage communities to reexamine established norms and consider changing to a different approach.
Like other machzorim, this one also includes a philosophical and scholarly section at the end, which includes ten brief articles on a range of historical, halachic, and spiritual matters related to Independence Day and Jerusalem Day: the drafting and content of the prayer for the state, the meaning and changes in the national symbols and anthem, the halachic significance and liturgies related to the reunification of Jerusalem, and more.
Many of these articles had been published on other platforms, but including them in a siddur allows for members of a congregation or even individual to study them on their own during the holidays. No less significant are the midrashic, literary, and commentary portions spread along the bottom of the pages, as well as Rabbi Yoel Bin Nun’s article on the passage opening the prayers of the day (“Shir Mizmor Leyom Atzma’utneinu”), Rafel’s detailed commentary on the prater for the state, and more. It is true that so much content runs the risk of the machzor becoming more of an easy reading book than a prayer book, but it would seem that the benefits outweigh the risks here.
Alongside its many advantages, one of the machzor’s deficiencies is the entirely secondary status of Jerusalem Day compared to Independence Day. This can be seen in both the cover design and the fact that most of the prayer for Jerusalem Day is not reprinted, and is instead based on the printed prayer for Independence Day. This decision appears to even further cement Jerusalem Day’s declining status not only among Israelis in general but even among religious Zionists specifically. This treatment of Jerusalem Day as marginal exacts a heavy price, and is something which should be corrected.
Might this machzor – which has since been published in a smaller and “softer” edition, both ideologically and physically – become the predominant prayer book for Israel’s state holidays, leading to a broad process of discussion, unification, and reestablishment of the prayer arrangements on those days?
There are enough reasons to think this won’t happen: the internal, complex divisions within religious Zionism itself, with its constant soul-searching, the fact that other machzorim are also available and are considered plenty attractive, and the fact that Independence Day continues to take shape even today. Indeed, as a communal and individual experience, Independence Day is still very much an evolving holiday.
All that being said, the different options this machzor offers those observing Israel’s state holidays as religious holidays are probably justification enough for its existence.
Originally published on JFeed.com.
