The cover of my new Koren Siddur is adorned with Hebrew words in a golden, ultra-modern font, Da lifnei mi atah omed—“Know before whom you stand”—words often inscribed over the ark in a synagogue to remind us that our worship is of little value without kavanah, intentional focus upon God. Such focus is evident throughout this new Hebrew-English siddur, with translation and commentary by Rabbi Sir Jonathan Sacks (Koren Publishers Jerusalem, 2009).

The Koren-Sacks siddur achieves and conveys kavanah in at least three ways.

First, in its physical presentation. In 1981 Eliyahu Koren explained that the format of his original, Hebrew-only, siddur was intended to “become a source of inspiration, reverence, sanctity, and awe.”

To achieve this, we created an original design of the printed font and the layout of the words in accordance with the meaning of the prayers, line-by-line, page-by-page. From a visual standpoint, the contents of the prayers are presented in a style that does not spur habit and hurry, but rather encourages the worshiper to engross his mind and heart in prayer. (p. ix)

Most prayers, for example, are not printed in paragraphs, but as poetry, line by line, with line breaks corresponding to the logical flow of the prayer. As much as possible, each prayer is kept whole, beginning and ending on the same page, which creates a sense of holiness and order on the page itself. As I use this siddur, I keep discovering new, often tiny, details of design that enhance its sense of prayerfulness. Comparisons with the popular Artscroll Siddur will be inevitable. Both siddurs seek to fulfill the traditional value of hiddur mitzvah or beautifying an object used to fulfill a mitzvah;[1] the Artscroll through ornament and embellishment, the Koren through order and simplicity.

Second, Rabbi Sacks’ translation reflects the same order and simplicity, combining normal, modern English with the dignity appropriate to the prayers. Again, in comparison with the Artscroll, it is less idiosyncratic, seeking to translate, rather than interpret, the original Hebrew and Aramaic.

Third, the commentary serves not just to explain, but to heighten the devotional experience of the prayers. I’ll illustrate both translation and commentary with a look at Rabbi Sacks’ treatment of the Shema. He translates it as,

Listen, Israel: the Lord is our God,

the Lord is One.

And the commentary: “The word Shema is untranslatable in English. It means (1) listen, (2) hear, (3) reflect on, (4) understand, (5) internalize, (6) respond in action, and hence (7) obey. . . . I have translated it here as ‘Listen’ rather than the traditional ‘Hear’ because listening is active, hearing passive. The Shema is a call to an act of mind and soul, to meditate on, internalize and affirm the oneness of God” (p. 470-471). For me, Sacks’ decision to go with “Listen” over the traditional “Hear” provides not only new insights, but also a new devotional focus when I recite the Shema. It’s also typical of his translation approach, which generally keeps a low profile, but isn’t afraid to do something new and noticeable when necessary.

Messianic Jews relate to the traditional Siddur in a variety of ways. Some embrace it as a primary source of prayer and spirituality, with its numerous prayers for the coming of Messiah ben David and the restoration that he will bring with him compensating for its silence regarding Yeshua. For other Messianic Jews, the traditional Siddur is a valued, if secondary, resource for worship and Jewish learning. For the entire spectrum, the Koren Siddur arrives with an undeniable place of honor in the essential Jewish library.