August 1st, marks 300 days since October 7th, 2023. We have passed milestone after milestone on both the Jewish calendar and through the seasons of our everyday lives, with a painful awareness of the ongoing horror that began on the morning of Simchat Torah, and continues, now 300 days later. We added prayers for the release of captives to our Thanksgiving tables, we added light and kindled our Chanukiyot with dedications to those still held captive. We watched as autumn became winter, and became spring, counting up, up, up. Our Passover tables bore the scars of a communal wound; we hardly needed the salt water to know the taste of tears as we prayed for the freedom and redemption of those still held captive. Another school year ended, we watched children and grandchildren graduate. We've celebrated birthdays and weddings and grieved losses, and against the backdrop of it all has been a constant reminder: there are still hostages in Gaza. There is still grievous death and destruction in Gaza. There are broken families all over Israel, marching and protesting and begging for a deal to bring their loved ones home. It's summer now, and here we are, and there they still are, and it feels impossible to imagine what will be next.
As Jews, we have prayed for the release of captives before. This is a pain our people have known across the centuries. One of the most well known liturgical renderings of this prayer is called Acheinu (lit., “our brothers”; often translated as “our family”), which is the first word of this prayer included in both the 9th century prayerbook Seder Rav Amram Gaon and in Mahzor Vitry, a 12th century prayer book written by one of the disciples of Rashi. (To learn even more about the provenance of this prayer, you can read this wonderful article by Rabbi Elie Kaunfer)
The situation in Gaza and in Israel is dire, and growing more volatile and dangerous by the day. As we mark 300 days since October 7, it feels fitting for us to add this prayer into our practice as a community, which we will do throughout the weeks ahead, and on the High Holy Days. These words have offered shape to the meditations of the hearts of the Jewish people for centuries; we take upon the obligation to say them now, even as we continue to pray for their irrelevance made possible by the immediate release of all captives.
Acheinu, our family: A Prayer for Captives
אַחֵינוּ כָּל בֵּית יִשְׂרָאֵל, הַנְּתוּנִים בְּצָרָה וּבַשִּׁבְיָה, הָעוֹמְדִים בֵּין בַּיָּם וּבֵין בַּיַּבָּשָׁה, הַמָּקוֹם יְרַחֵם עֲלֵיהֶם, וְיוֹצִיאֵם מִצָּרָה לִרְוָחָה, וּמֵאֲפֵלָה לְאוֹרָה, וּמִשִּׁעְבּוּד לִגְאֻלָּה, הַשְׁתָּא בַּעֲגָלָא וּבִזְמַן קָרִיב
Our family, the whole house of Israel, who are in distress, or in captivity — who stand either in the sea or on dry land — may the Omnipresent have mercy on them and take them out from narrowness to expanse, and from darkness to light, and from oppression to redemption, now, swiftly, and soon!
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