“Tonight, These Lights Are Beacons of Hope for an AIDS-Free World”: Jewish Prayers of Remembrance and Healing for Those Affected by HIV/AIDS

Abstract

Various religious responses to the AIDS epidemic were and still are often laden with stereotypes and homophobic attitudes, sometimes justifying the disease as a divine response to “sin”. This study is dedicated to examining prayers written by non-Orthodox gay rabbis to commemorate those lost to AIDS-related causes and to pray for healing and robust health for those living with the virus. In each of these prayers, most of which are recited on World AIDS Day (WAD), the worshiper is invited to remember the deceased and the hardships they endured, as well as to bless the present moment; those struggling with the virus; and the medical teams treating it. The textual analysis illustrates how AIDS liturgy reveals the congregation’s distinct religious–therapeutic egalitarian culture. These prayers serve as political instruments of resistance against AIDS-phobia and related stereotypes, demonstrating how LGBTQ+ collective memory can be constructed through religious liturgical texts rather than exclusively within secular frameworks. This is another way for non-Orthodox Jewish communities to signal their liberal agenda and distinguish themselves from conservative communities.

1. Introduction

Religion and spirituality play a central role in healing, care, and recovery across cultures and communities. Different religions and cultural traditions have developed various texts, rituals, and practices to address illness and loss (Powell et al. 2003; McGuire 2008). In the sexual/gender context, since the mid-20th century, the LGBTQ+ community has sought to transform religion from a source of ostracism and rejection to one of healing and queer remembrance. While there is an expanding body of research on how organizations and institutions support LGBTQ+ individuals in overcoming homophobia and exclusion, relatively little attention has been given to religious contexts, particularly the creation of religious texts and rituals for healing and commemoration.

Within the Jewish community, the mid-20th century saw significant developments in the creation of queer Jewish liturgy and rituals dedicated to healing and loss. In contemporary Jewish life, certain movements have made notable strides in including LGBTQ+ people, particularly recognizing the place of trans and non-binary people within community life and promoting their participation in religious practices. Non-halachic denominations, such as the Reform and Conservative movements in the U.S., have engaged in open discussions about homosexuality and transgenderism, adapting their stances to embrace gender diversity, including the ordination of LGBTQ+ rabbis (Irshai 2019; Tucker 2006), as well as creating liturgical dedications to queer individuals and addressing the bodily experiences of LGBTQ+ participants (Ben-Lulu 2019, 2021a, 2021b, 2022, 2023, 2024a, 2024b; Ben-Lulu and Chizik 2025; Drinkwater 2019, 2020; Eger 2020).

The textual dimension of Jewish communal creativity holds significant importance in marking the place of LGBTQ+ individuals within Jewish tradition and society. This contributes to fostering a sense of well-being, comfort, and communal belonging. For instance, Ladin (2019) demonstrates, through her own experience and lifelong engagement with sacred texts, how transgender perspectives can enrich religious understanding. She explores how the Torah and trans lives illuminate one another, raising fundamental questions about how religious texts, traditions, and the understanding of God can evolve through the lens of transgender experience. In addition, clergy and Jewish leaders often consider how trans Jews fit within existing norms of Jewish law and community. While some seek assimilation, others seek full affirmation of their identities. Based on ethnographic research, Crasnow (2017) examines rituals created by and for trans Jews, highlighting efforts to expand tradition beyond mere inclusion toward true affirmation.

This article builds on previous writing that views religious textuality as a therapeutic space for LGBTQ+ rehabilitation, healing, and commemoration (Greene 2022; Young 2020; Burke et al. 2024) and focuses on how World AIDS Day (WAD) is commemorated in non-Orthodox Jewish communities, specifically in the Reform Movement, through an analysis of unique prayers aimed at commemorating AIDS victims and offering healing for all in need. The study explores the types of prayers proposed, their intertextual relationship with traditional Jewish texts, and the socio-cultural messages these prayers aim to convey and how they do so.

I argue that these prayers support LGBTQ+ collective memory and particularly contribute to the construction of a queer-Jewish collective memory. Thus, AIDS Jewish liturgy demonstrates how religious language can serve as a healing response to the epidemic, mobilizing the community for the humanitarian task of combating stereotypes and fostering respectful and inclusive discourse for those living with HIV/AIDS. The emergence and performance of these prayers within the community on this occasion facilitate the establishment of queer memory within Jewish liturgy. Thus, the queer annual cycle intersects with the Jewish calendar and penetrates the communal ritual framework. The prayer book thus become significant political product for marking WAD, extending beyond its instrumental roles as a social mean for preserving tradition or enforcing religious practices and commandments.

Observed annually on December 1 since 1988, WAD is a global day of awareness focused on the AIDS crisis, addressing the impact of HIV transmission and honoring the memory of those lost to the disease. The decision to anchor this commemoration to a specific day of the year lends historical and contemporary significance to the epidemic and the disease, fostering an open, inclusive, and stereotype-free discourse. The AIDS epidemic, which raged in the 1980s, severely impacted men who had sex with men. For the LGBTQ+ community, WAD serves as an additional means of establishing and shaping a queer memory of one of the darkest periods in the community’s history. The tragedy raises several theoretical questions about how trauma is transmitted, remembered, and constructed within collective memory, particularly at the intersection of queer identity and historical wounds.

However, decades after its outbreak, and even in the era of PrEP1, stigma and shame surrounding the disease and HIV status remain prevalent in society (Dubov et al. 2018). A recent UNAIDS2 report3 revealed that the global target of ending AIDS as a public health threat by 2030 is achievable—but only if leaders prioritize the human rights of people living with and at risk of HIV. The report, titled “Take the Rights Path to End AIDS”, emphasizes the importance of a rights-based approach. Currently, 39.9 million people are living with HIV, yet 9.3 million still lack access to life-saving treatment. In 2022, 630,000 individuals lost their lives to AIDS-related illnesses, and 1.3 million new HIV infections were recorded worldwide. Alarmingly, the rate of new infections is rising in at least 28 countries. To reverse this trend, it is crucial to ensure that life-saving programs are accessible to everyone without fear or discrimination. As of 2023, 63 countries continue to criminalize same-sex relationships. Such laws undermine efforts to combat HIV, as HIV prevalence among gay men and other men who have sex with men is five times higher in countries with these discriminatory laws than in those without them. In addition, according to the United Nations, the global median prevalence of HIV among men who have sex with men is 7.7%.

Therefore, any effort to foster a respectful public discourse about AIDS and its victims not only has the potential to reduce exposure to the virus and promote safe sex but also contributes to undermining homophobic responses that perpetuate stigma and stereotypes. This egalitarian vision may also extend to the religious sphere, aligning with Somlai et al.’s (1997) assertion that “clergy and congregations need to take specific steps to provide spiritual support to people living with HIV/AIDS, consistent with their history of caregiving to all people, regardless of the crisis situation” (p. 415).

However, it is important to note that AIDS is not only the story of the LGBTQ+ community. In the Jewish context, since Jews in North America do not belong to the high-risk group for contracting the virus (i.e., they are mostly white, from high socioeconomic backgrounds, and do not primarily live in African countries), the visibility of this discourse allows for the breaking of stereotypes directed at LGBTQ+ individuals, with an emphasis on the stigma faced by men who have sex with men.

2. Echoes of Silence: The Impact of AIDS on Queer Memory and Legacy

Researchers interested in this dark chapter of LGBTQ+ history engage with the complexities of how LGBTQ+ communities remember their past, particularly in relation to traumatic events such as the AIDS crisis, discrimination, and violence. A valuable resource in this field is The Queer Art of Failure (Halberstam 2011) by Jack Halberstam, which explores how queer communities engage with histories of trauma and marginalization. According to Halberstam, embracing failure can provide alternative ways of living and being that challenge normative structures and offer new possibilities for queer life and politics.

In Cruising Utopia: The Then and There of Queer Futurity, José Esteban Muñoz examines queer memory as a vital space for hope and resistance, emphasizing the importance of envisioning a future that transcends past traumas. Muñoz (2019) argues that queer memory is not merely a reflection of historical pain, but also a site for imagining alternative futures—ones that challenge heteronormative and oppressive systems. Through this lens, queer memory becomes a tool for collective resistance, offering a vision of what could be, rather than what has been, thus creating possibilities for liberation and transformation. In the context of this work, which seeks to examine how queer memory is translated and adorned in religious language and discourse, I cannot help but see in its argument an immanent dimension in the idea of prophecy.

Similarly, Freeman (2010) explores how LGBTQ+ collective memory challenges traditional notions of linear time through the concept of “queer time”. Freeman suggests that LGBTQ+ experiences disrupt conventional temporal narratives, highlighting non-normative life paths and rejecting chronological age and milestones. Together, their work emphasizes how queer memory not only resists historical erasure but also reimagines time as fluid, open to possibilities beyond societal expectations.

For example, The Ashes Action, led by ACT UP (AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power), serves as a powerful symbol of collective mourning and resistance in the face of the AIDS epidemic. Through dramatic demonstrations, such as scattering the ashes of loved ones on the White House lawn, ACT UP highlighted the urgent need for governmental action and societal recognition of the crisis. Their legacy continues to influence activism today, illustrating how collective grief can unite communities in demanding justice, healthcare, and dignity for those affected by HIV/AIDS. Gould (2009) argues that emotions, particularly anger and love, were not merely personal feelings but potent political tools that shaped ACT UP’s strategies, mobilized communities, challenged institutional norms, and ultimately influenced public policy and discourse surrounding AIDS. This intersection of emotion, activism, and political change defined ACT UP’s approach to the AIDS epidemic in the United States.

In Melancholia and Moralism, Douglas Crimp (2004) critiques the shift in gay politics from radical AIDS activism to more conservative, rights-focused agendas in the 1990s. He argues that the cumulative losses from the AIDS epidemic and the fading militant response have led to a melancholic identification among gay men with society’s moralistic repudiation of homosexuality. This melancholia, Crimp suggests, manifests in the conservative gay politics that emerged during the 1993 march on Washington, which shifted focus from AIDS activism to issues such as gay marriage and military service. Crimp challenges this complacency, asserting that AIDS remains a crucial issue in queer politics, continuing to shape the moralistic attitudes of mainstream gay figures. He contends that AIDS is a repressed force that drives the destructive, anti-liberation moralism evident in their work, ultimately highlighting how the unresolved grief from the epidemic fuels more conservative narratives within the gay rights movement. In the context of non-halachic rabbis who are not bound by conservative Orthodox norms, this work may challenge this assumption, as the prayers are the product of queer-Jewish religious activism that seeks to challenge the established traditional liturgy.

3. From Past to Present: The Jewish Response to HIV/AIDS

The American Reform Jewish movement pioneered the recognition of people with HIV/AIDS by integrating this acknowledgment as an essential part of community activities and discourse. Based on a liberal egalitarian religious approach (Meyer 1995), which challenges Jewish laws (halacha), Reform congregations have advanced gender equality and promoted LGBTQ+ rights. In 1985, the General Assembly of the Union of American Hebrew Congregations (UAHC)4 passed a historic resolution calling to abolish discrimination against HIV (Human Immunodeficiency Virus)-positive people. The Reform Movement thus became the only formal Jewish institution to advocate an open discussion regarding congregants who lived with HIV or had AIDS, and presented a clear resistance to the AIDS-phobic Orthodox agenda, which declared the disease to be a punishment from God for the “sin” of homosexuality (Moore 1990). In my previous works (Ben-Lulu 2021b, 2025), based on the textual analysis of memorial prayers, rabbinical sermons, and community services activities and educational programs, I showed that the Reform community served as a social agent for the recognition of people with HIV/AIDS. Thus, the Reform response arose from personal mourning and social needs, thereby leading to advocacy and inclusion of the American gay Jewish community.

According to Drinkwater (2020), from the onset of the AIDS crisis in 1981 until 1985, American Jewish leaders largely remained silent. Evidence of significant Jewish communal engagement with AIDS in the United States did not appear until September 1985, when two young and charismatic rabbis in San Francisco addressed the issue during their Yom Kippur sermons. These sermons were delivered in two Reform synagogues: Congregation Sha’ar Zahav, which primarily served LGBTQ+ members, and Congregation Emanu-El, which had a predominantly heterosexual membership. Both sermons, along with the rabbis who delivered them, played a pivotal role in shaping liberal American Judaism’s response to the AIDS crisis.

This particular study—focused on specific liturgy for WAD—elaborates on this historical point of view and adds a cultural perspective that connects the egalitarian agenda and textuality as well as past and current moment. Today, many Reform and non-Orthodox Jewish congregations, mostly in the U.S., observe this significant day by performing this liturgy and promoting discourse centered on inclusion, dignity, and remembrance for those affected by HIV/AIDS. In observance of the nineteenth WAD, Rabbi Marla Feldman, who served as executive director of Women of Reform Judaism (WRJ) and director of the commission on social action of Reform Judaism, issued the following statement5:

As individuals from around the world gather together to renew their steadfast commitment to fight against one of the most deadly illnesses of the last quarter century, we remember all those who lost their lives to the HIV/AIDS pandemic in the past year and before. In their memory, we renew our commitment not only to work to prevent further loss of life due to HIV/AIDS, but also to lower the number of new infections…

The Reform Jewish community has long been at the forefront of the effort to address the HIV/AIDS crisis at home and abroad. This World AIDS Day we recommit ourselves to ending the pandemic and fulfilling the dream of millions around the world to live full lives in health. (November. 2007)

In addition, Congregation Beit Simchat Torah (CBST), one of the first LGBTQ+ Jewish institutions in North America, has been a trailblazer in cultivating respectful and inclusive dialogue. Shokeid (2002), in his research on the CBST, highlights how Jewish gay synagogues can greatly support LGBTQ+ Jews, offering them a sense of belonging and existential security (Avishai 2023). CBST also leads the way in developing community programs and liturgical practices dedicated to addressing the impact of AIDS. Rabbi Mike Moskowitz, scholar in residence at CBST, believes that the struggle to raise awareness and combat stigma can also find its place in the synagogue, not only through campaigns on other platforms:

World AIDS Day is necessary for those folks who only think about it once a year, and so the day is necessary to bring awareness to something that otherwise doesn’t impact or affect them. But for folks in the queer community, particularly at CBST, where approximately 40% of its membership died from AIDS during those horrible years before the government invested in trying to find medical solutions to it, it’s something that lives with us as a constant. AIDS in the LGBT community is not hypothetical. It’s the people who used to sit next to us, and now those chairs are empty.

… For us, at CBST, it’s not abstract, it’s not amorphous, it’s not an anonymous day of commemorating our community. It’s a day that we hope is impactful on the rest of the world who didn’t prioritize their resources, who perhaps don’t know what it was like, where in the queer community every single week, every single Shabbat, there were people who were in hospice, there were people who were mourning, there were people who had just gotten a diagnosis that at those times was a life sentence, six months, a year. Some people live longer, but for most people, as soon as they found out, their life started to change. And the world by and large did nothing because those who had the resources, those who were part of the majority, the straight, cis world, didn’t take it seriously because they didn’t feel like it affected them. So, the work today is still on destigmatizing and normalizing. (November. 2024)

Indeed, although Jews in North America are a minority group within the general population and were not necessarily a high-risk group, the community still sought to respond and take an ideological stance against AIDS-phobia—whether or not there were community members living with HIV or AIDS. This is a significant statement that aims to demonstrate the Reform Movement’s religious agenda—one that seeks to engage with reality and remain relevant to contemporary issues, whether they directly affect the community or impact it indirectly. The Reform Movement views itself as part of the broader society and as an important political actor in the struggle of other minorities and marginalized groups facing exclusion and social alienation.

Unfortunately, despite the significant progress made by the LGBTQ+ movement, religious communities, particularly Orthodox ones, still wrestle with issues of gender acceptance and recognition. Orthodox religious doctrines and anti-LGBTQ+ public agendas continue to pressure LGBTQ+ individuals within these communities to conceal or suppress their identities. Within Orthodox communities, responses range from resistance to complete avoidance of discussions related to LGBTQ+ issues (Avishai 2023). Therefore, creating this kind of liturgy—one dedicated to queer people’s lives—can be perceived as a subversive and radical response to LGBTQ-phobic responses.

Building on these remarks, this article presents several prayers that illustrate how non-Orthodox Jewish liturgy is mobilized to convey key messages: commemorating those lost to the epidemic and offering wishes for healing—both physical and emotional—for those affected by it. These prayers demonstrate how contemporary communities and religious texts can serve as political spaces for fostering inclusion and respect for gender and sexual identities that, for many years, were excluded from such spaces and labeled as “sinful”.

Before delving into the analysis of the prayers in the next section, I will provide a brief theoretical overview highlighting the power of religious and spiritual rituals in shaping therapeutic and empowering experiences for LGBTQ+ individuals. Following this, I will outline the analytical methodology, present the prayers in their full form, and offer a textual analysis of them. In the conclusion, I will discuss the central themes that emerge from these prayers, their similarities and differences, and the ways in which they challenge Jewish tradition while enabling the formation of a queer collective memory within the liberal Jewish space and performance.

4. Methodology

This qualitative study employs content analysis to examine five prayers written by non-Orthodox rabbis, predominantly from the Reform movement, recited annually on World AIDS Day (WAD) every December for remembrance, healing, and restoration. I found three prayers on the website of the American Reform Jewish Movement and one prayer at the Open Siddur Project.6 In addition, I found another prayer in the Congregation Sha’ar Zahav’s prayer book (San Francisco). These prayers were chosen for their contemporary liturgical significance in the context of the AIDS epidemic and their role in fostering collective memory within the Jewish community.

Building on Marx’s (2009) argument that contemporary liturgy is not merely an instrumental space for communicating with God but also a political arena for uncovering socio-cultural changes and trends, such as gender equality, my aim was to uncover the deeper message beyond the words. In the process of analyzing the prayers, I initially focused on the language chosen by the prayer’s author: What verbs were used? What adjectives? What imagery and metaphors and paraphrases were employed? Next, I focused on the message each prayer sought to convey, with particular attention to attempts to engage with diverse Jewish textual traditions, such as familiar prayers, quotations, and more. In addition, I examined the positionality, attitude, and role assigned to God within the text.

Initially, I analyzed each prayer separately and organized the data in a table, categorized into various sections (verbs, adjectives, metaphors and expressions, etc.). This allowed me to identify points of intersection and difference between the prayers and to create a classification that assisted me in the analysis process, enabling me to give each prayer specific attention and also to identify recurring patterns between them. Thus, I worked to create a holistic thematic analysis that seeks to connect different findings without losing the uniqueness of each one.

I was curious whether the prayers were designed to reflect the current socio-political reality of the Jewish community or if they aimed to envision a utopian state of redemption, offering hope for a world beyond suffering and injustice. The analysis was presented both individually and thematically. Each prayer was examined in its entirety, considering its structure, content, and theological message. The thematic grouping of prayers enabled me to compare how different authors addressed similar issues, such as healing, remembrance, and hope. This approach helped me identify both common themes and distinct differences in theological perspectives and liturgical style.

As part of the analysis, I aimed not only to analyze the prayers but to incorporate them into the article itself. In my view, the text plays a central role in the analysis, and therefore it is at the core of this work. Written words—prayers—hold a central place in Jewish ritual life, particularly in therapeutic impacts (Guzmen-Carmeli and Sharabi 2019), and for this reason, I sought to position this at the heart of the discussion.

5. Prayer for the World AIDS Day7

MIGHTY AND COMPASSIONATE GOD,

who heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds,

we turn to You with hearts full of prayer and supplication.

As Your children, we implore You to look with kindness and mercy

upon all those who have tested positive for HIV

and now endure the anxiety, stigma, rejection, and isolation

that often accompanies this diagnosis.

$$

Grant us the wisdom to see beyond our own prejudices and fears

and to reach out to those in need with compassion and understanding.

$$

Teach us to be the healers and helpers that You would have us be,

following in the footsteps of Your righteous servants

who brought hope and healing to those in pain.

$$

LOVING GOD, who dwells among the poor and the oppressed,

we pray that You will warm our hearts with the light of Your Spirit,

that we may accept the challenges of HIV/AIDS with courage and faith.

Strengthen the hands of those who care for the sick,

enlighten the minds of those doing research,

and protect the health and well-being of all Your children.

$$

We ask that You calm the fears of those who are frightened,

encourage those who are in pain,

and comfort those who are dying.

And we pray that You will grant eternal life to the souls of those who have passed away,

and that their memories will be a blessing and a source of comfort to those who loved them.

$$

May we all come together in the spirit of unity and compassion,

and work towards a world where no one suffers from the pain of illness

or the cruelty of rejection.

$$

May our deeds be pleasing in Your sight,

and may You bless us with peace, love, and healing,

now and forevermore.

And let us say: Amen.

This prayer, composed by Rabbi Lior Bar-Ami,8 opens with an invocation to God as mighty and strong, yet also compassionate and merciful, referencing Exodus 34:6 (“The Lord, merciful and gracious”), a passage integral to the Yom Kippur liturgy (Tabory 2011). This dualistic theological perception highlights the multifaceted nature of the divine. Following this, the prayer identifies the intended beneficiaries of salvation: “Healer of the brokenhearted” (Psalms 147:3). However, whereas the original verse refers to the mourners of Zion, here it addresses individuals grappling with an HIV diagnosis.

The use of medical terminology, such as “HIV-positive”, demonstrates the prayer’s effort to integrate clinical language alongside familiar liturgical rhetoric and scriptural references. This fusion lends the prayer both validation and relevance within the contemporary discourse it inhabits. Notably, the essence of the call does not frame HIV as a “disease” necessitating physical healing but instead focuses on strengthening the emotional resilience of those living with HIV/AIDS, particularly in the face of social discrimination and exclusion.

The prayer progresses to advocate for a societal transformation, urging those unaffected by the virus to overcome prejudice and create a safe space for dialogue about HIV/AIDS. This appeal is framed within a broader historical mission, connecting the present community to the legacy of righteous individuals who embodied divine commandments by performing acts of kindness and bringing hope. In this way, the prayer establishes continuity between the anonymous righteous figures of the past and the present community, emphasizing the enduring relevance of such models for moral and social action.

The subsequent reference to Ecclesiastes 5:8 underscores divine oversight and presence among those facing social injustice, paired with a petition for God to enlighten humanity to meet the challenges of living with HIV with courage and love. Rather than expressing anger or assigning blame to God, the prayer embraces an acknowledgment of reality and an acceptance of it with compassion. Indeed, it is common to classify the Book of Ecclesiastes as part of “wisdom literature”, meaning literature that deals with universal philosophical questions such as the status of humanity in the world, divine providence, and justice (Greenwood 2012). Now, this is a process of appropriating Ecclesiastes in the context of justice for AIDS and framing the message.

The blessing extends to caregivers, researchers, and all who contribute to mitigating the epidemic and safeguarding public health. In its penultimate section, the prayer broadens its scope, offering comfort and strength to those who fear infection, those in pain, and those nearing the end of life. It honors the eternal memory of those who have succumbed to the illness, framing their remembrance as a crucial component of collective memory. By embedding their stories within Jewish liturgy, the prayer resists societal erasure and stigmatization driven by shame or secrecy.

In conclusion, the prayer underscores the value of collective responsibility, emphasizing unity and shared action to alleviate the suffering of all individuals experiencing physical or emotional pain or social alienation. It closes with an appeal that attempts to embrace and support those living with or affected by HIV/AIDS so that they will be favorably received by God, who, in turn, will bless the praying community with peace, love, and healing, both now and in the future. This is a Durkheimian call to encourage social cohesion, solidarity, and the preservation of communal harmony. As Mishra and Rath (2020) conclude, in the medical context, this call becomes even more relevant.

6. Prayer for AIDS Awareness Shabbat9

Before Lighting the Shabbat Candles:

$$

Tonight, on AIDS Awareness Shabbat, we kindle these lights. Not only do these lights signify the beginning of Shabbat, they symbolize much more. Tonight, these lights represent the memories that continue to shine of those whom we have lost to the AIDS epidemic. Tonight, these lights illuminate the path to wholeness and healing for all of us who are affected and infected by HIV/AIDS. Tonight, these lights ignite the sparks within that call us to action. Tonight, these lights are beacons of hope for an AIDS-free world.

$$

$$

Before Ufros Aleinu:

Weary from anger, fear and confusion

Wailing at the loss of audacious beauty –

The souls stricken with AIDS

I search.

$$

In my risings, I search for the answers

Buried deep in the cold earth.

Why has become as useless

As battling the winds.

$$

Hope scurries under my feet

She is present, but fleeting.

I trace her with my eyes

I do not want to lose sight.

$$

I lay down

And beseech You

Spread over me Your canopy of peace

So I may rest and find wholeness in Your shards

$$

I lay down

And look above

Where the memories have formed

A canopy embroidered as finely as the stars

I am renewed and will continue to ask You

Spread over us Your canopy of peace.

This blessing, written by Rabbi Joshua Lesser10, is divided into two distinct blessings: the first is recited before the traditional blessing over lighting the Shabbat candles, and the second is recited before the Hashkiveinu （הַַשְׁכִּיבֵנוּ）blessing.11 In Judaism, the ritual of lighting Shabbat candles is one of the most well-known practices marking the onset of the holy day and symbolizing the Jewish commitment to “guard” (shamor) and “remember” (zachor) the Shabbat. For this reason, it is customary, for example, to light a pair of candles (Wolfson 2012).

The practice of lighting Shabbat candles is traditionally associated with women and takes place within the home rather than in the synagogue. However, many non-Orthodox communities have incorporated this ritual into synagogue services. This shift accommodates community members who do not light candles at home and highlights women’s active participation in worship, offering another meaningful opportunity to embrace their role. As Iosif observes, “[r]eclaiming biblical and traditionally religious practices and reinterpreting them through a feminist perspective serves as a cornerstone of Jewish feminism” (Iosif 2019, p. 26).

In Judaism, light represents various ideals and values, including heroism, commemoration, memory, and transcendence. For example, within the synagogue, the Ner Tamid—the Eternal Light—symbolizes a connection to the ancient Temple. Hanging above the Torah Ark, it shines continuously as a reminder of God’s enduring presence.12 In this context, the lighting of candles serves as a memorial for the victims of the AIDS pandemic and as a call to action in the ongoing fight against HIV. It symbolizes both remembrance and the commitment to combating stigma and AIDS-phobia, spreading hope, and fostering healing within communities.

The second blessing is an addition to be recited before the Hashkiveinu—one of the blessings following the Shema during the Maariv (evening) prayer. This blessing is said exclusively in the evening service, as it pertains to seeking protection during the nighttime. On Shabbat and festivals, its conclusion is a request for God to “spread a shelter of peace over His people Israel”, while on weekdays, the request is for protection over the nation of Israel. This change emphasizes the protective power of Shabbat, rendering a request for protection unnecessary on this sacred day.13

Additionally, this blessing is phrased in singular form, in contrast to the plural form of the preceding blessings. It reflects a more personal, intimate, and experiential tone in its composition. The speaker expresses a complex mix of anger and confusion, mourning the loss of friends to the devastating disease. These emotions are fueled not only by grief over their passing but also by the stigma they faced until their final days. Amid this pain, there is also a sense of optimism as the speaker turns to God, pleading for the gift of a sukkah shel shalom14—a space of acceptance, security, and recognition. This is a persistent and consistent call, striving to connect the memory of the past with the hope for a safer and brighter future, in honor of those who perished in the tragic epidemic. In this way, the speaker intertwines their personal request (“spread over me”) with a collective blessing (“spread over us”), bridging the gap between themselves and the community. This acknowledgment reflects an understanding of the power of their cry and prayer to also serve the broader needs of the community.

7. Al Ha-Nissim for World AIDS Day15

On this [Shabbat nearest to] World AIDS Day, before we pause to remember those who have lost their lives to HIV and AIDS, we first give thanks:

Al Ha-nissim: For the wonders of the enduring strength of the human spirit;

V’al Ha-g’vurot: And for the heroic acts of those who stood strong in days of prejudice;

V’al Ha-t’shu’ot: And for the victories in the advancements of antiretroviral medication;

V’al Ha-nifla’ot: And for the marvelous deeds of the healthcare professionals;

V’al Ha-nekhamot: And for the compassionate support of friends and relatives;

She’asita La’avoteinu: That You enabled for those who went before us;

Ba’yamim Ha-heim: in those early days of HIV and AIDS;

Uva-z’man Ha-zeh: and in these times.

$$

May the time come soon when this terrible disease will become but a nightmare from history. Yet until that time we pray for those who are ill and in pain. We pause now to name them in our hearts:

$$

Barukh Atah Adonay, Rofeh Hakholim—Amen.

$$

We also pause to remember those who lost their lives to HIV and AIDS; those we loved, those we knew, and those millions around the world too numerous to even begin to comprehend:

$$

Zikhronam Livrakhah—May their memories be an enduring blessing—Amen.

It is not uncommon for WAD to coincide with the days of Hanukkah. One of the well-known prayers of Hanukkah is “Al HaNissim”—a special prayer for miracles. There are different versions for Al HaNissim (for instance, for Independence Day for the State of Israel), and traditionally it is recited as an addition to the Amidah16 and Birkat Hamazon17 on Hanukkah and Purim. On both holidays, it starts off with a short paragraph, beginning with the words for which it is named. After that, each holiday has a unique paragraph, describing the events for which that day is celebrated. According to Hoffman (1979), this prayer affirms the people of Israel and their relationship to God, via a confession of praise and an empowering motif of redemption, victory, and salvation.

This paraphrase illustrates how Rabbi David Mitchell18 ties the context to the Jewish holiday, embedding a message of combating AIDS-phobia and honoring the memory of its victims through the use of Jewish liturgy (See Figure 1: Remembrance service led by Rabbi David Mitchell (West London Synagogue) World AIDS Day 2018. In the photo: London Gay Men’s Chorus). The prayer begins with gratitude for five distinct elements that have enabled the response to AIDS: miracles, heroism, salvation, marvels, and comfort. Its core is praise and acknowledgment, centering individuals as agents of change—whether family members providing support, medical professionals working to heal and combat the spread of the virus, or even those who have personally faced stigma and shame as carriers of the virus. Previous research highlights the significant role of family support as a catalyst for the well-being of individuals living with HIV/AIDS (Li et al. 2006). In this context, God is not positioned at the center; the miracles, salvations, and comforts are attributed to the various individuals connected to those living with the virus, or to the carriers themselves.

The element of time is central to the expression of gratitude, as the prayer seeks to link the experiences of the earliest patients with the reality of today. The “ancestors” mentioned (not Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, as is customary in Jewish prayers) are honored and admired for their resilience in facing the virus. This call aims to connect the individual—particularly those currently living with the virus—to an entire community that stood before them and confronted the disease. It is a statement that not only aligns with the traditional Jewish liturgical structure, which ties key figures of the past to the present community, but also seeks to foster a sense of solidarity and intergenerational kinship.

This call is further supported in the continuation of the prayer, which cries out with hope for the eradication of the disease and for healing and relief for those living with HIV or battling AIDS. Alongside the return of God to the forefront, with a plea for divine intervention in healing and care (in contrast to God’s initial absence in the prayer), there is also a commitment to commemorating the many lives lost to the virus—both those who are known and the anonymous countless. This concluding segment reinforces the prayer’s social message, bridging time and connecting the individual with those who have carried the virus or succumbed to the disease.

8. A Mi Shebeirach for Those Dealing with HIV/AIDS

God who blessed our ancestors Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, Sarah, Rebecca, Leah and Rachel, be with all of those who struggle with AIDS, whose health has been impaired by this illness and whose lives have been placed in jeopardy. Give them courage and strength to face their illness and hope for a cure that will embrace them in life.

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May your healing presence remain with those who have contracted HIV. Through your caring and the wisdom, You have imparted to human healers they have been enabled to succeed in their struggle with their disease. Keep them on the path of Health and life.

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Be with those who care for people with AIDS and attend to their needs.

Bless them with strength and compassion as they labor to ease the lives of those who look to them for comfort and well-being. Let them know the value of their labors, and assist them in their noble work.

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Share your wisdom with those searching for an ultimate cure for this disease. Bestow your healing knowledge upon them and reward their efforts with fulfillment.

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Bless all of us with compassion and understanding that we may see all those afflicted as You see them: not as recipients of some sort of retribution, but as worthy objects of our concern and love.

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May the day come speedily when this scourge too, like so many before it will not afflict Your children and all of us are liberated from the shadow of its terror.

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Amen!

Another common blessing which was written by Rabbi Mark Israel19 and Rabbi Dan Polish is Mi Shebeirach, a public prayer for someone who requires healing and good health. Silverman (2016, p. 169) argues that prayers for healing are an inherently social process, inextricably linked to relationships with other people, the community, God and tradition. Following her conclusion that the Mi Shebeirach prayer is one site among many through which relationships to Judaism and Jewishness are negotiated and constructed, this version of the blessing was dedicated to people who suffered from HIV/AIDS.

The prayer calls upon the forefathers and foremothers—key figures in Jewish liturgy—to become full partners in the healing process, providing health and strength to those living with the virus. This is an appeal to grant those affected the courage and resilience needed to navigate the complex journey of recovery, encompassing both medical and social dimensions. Through the prayer, the worshiper affirms belief in the divine presence and power to offer relief, while also emphasizing the essential role of medical professionals in combating the virus. In this context, God is neither absent nor abstract but is directly addressed, with acknowledgment of divine capability to assist, without undermining the significance of medical discourse and action.

The prayer expresses a heartfelt wish for support for healthcare professionals and their therapeutic work, including a plea for God to enhance their understanding and professional capabilities by imparting divine wisdom. This portrays divine knowledge not as exclusive or inaccessible but as something to be shared with humanity, unlike Lioy’s dichotomic view (Lioy 2009) that “human wisdom is earthly, unspiritual, and demonic in orientation, while, divine wisdom is Bible-based, Christ-centered, and Spirit-led” (p. 35).

The closing section of the prayer includes a further request for God to instill compassion, love, and care, shattering any stereotypes or stigmas associated with AIDS. This appeal is rooted not only in a socially liberal agenda to affirm the dignity of individuals or in a pro-LGBTQ stance reflecting the community’s ongoing struggle against stigma but also in a theological recognition that God views those living with HIV or AIDS as deserving of love and inclusion, rather than ostracism and condemnation. If God can embrace this perspective, it becomes all the more incumbent upon humans to follow suit.

Finally, the prayer conveys hope for a better future, envisioning a world free of the disease, where healing extends beyond physical health to include social restoration. While the prayer begins with a focus on those living with the virus, it evolves to include blessings of success and praise for medical efforts. Ultimately, it seeks to involve everyone—those unaffected by the disease as well—by challenging prejudices and inappropriate behaviors associated with the illness.

9. “Help Us to Be Healers”

On this day, we commemorate the ongoing tragedy that the global epidemic of

AIDS is causing in our world. The AIDS crisis continues in part because of the

inability of the peoples of the world, our governments, and our business leaders

to see the millions struggling with HIV/AIDS as people of infinite value, each

with a unique spark of the Divine.

When we look at people who are affected by HIV/AIDS, let us see them as

Judaism would have us see them. Let us recognize their divinity, and help them

to get the education, the medicines, the treatment, and the lives they deserve.

Every person is created in the image of God (Genesis 1:26).

Dear God, we call You the Healer of the sick. Help us to be healers; be with

us as we climb the ladder of justice and loving-kindness, of tzedek and chesed.

Enable us to see ourselves as messengers from on high, capable of enacting

radical healing, here and everywhere.

This prayer, composed by Rabbi Camille Shira Angle,20 delivers sharp criticism against society and governmental authorities for their blindness in recognizing the needs of people living with AIDS and in acknowledging the divinity within them (Yang et al. 2005; Reidpath and Chan 2005). The message draws on the Jewish perspective, which calls for seeing these individuals with recognition of the divinity they embody, B’tzelem Elohim—the divine image (“And God created humankind in the divine image, creating it in the image of God—creating them male and female” (Genesis 1:27)).

Therefore, they must be provided with the respect, medical care, and mental support they deserve, in light of the directive in the Book of Genesis. The prayer appeals to God to aid them and send healing, and also to help those offering the prayer to become partners in the work of healing and care. It is a call to God to see the one praying as His emissary in the world, assisting in the healing and care of people living with AIDS. In this way, God and humanity are partners in healing the stigma, pain, and exclusion faced by individuals with AIDS.

10. Discussion

This study demonstrates how Jewish liturgy can serve as a space for remembrance, healing, and restoration for those AIDS related death, and those who are medically coping with the HIV virus, and those who socially struggle with the stigma associated with it. The prayers allow for the commemoration of the victims and the mourning of the pain of concealment, shame, and exclusion, while also empowering the divine, the medical and community systems that provided relief and mental rehabilitation in response to experiences of stereotyping and stigma. Building on Dzmura’s (2014) call for the Jewish community to actively create LGBTQ+-inclusive spaces, emphasizing the therapeutic and restorative impact of newly adapted liturgical rituals on the well-being and sense of belonging of LGBTQ+ individuals, I view this liturgy as a testament to that vision.

De facto, composing these particular prayers may demonstrate to contemporary religious communities how to provide diverse responses to the needs of their attending members (Wuthnow 1998) and those who wish to identify as allies. Thus, the congregation can enable a consonance between religious traditions and its members’ unique identities and needs (Leong 2006). Therefore, focus on this liturgy exposes the congregation’s distinct religious–therapeutic culture.

Memory, by its nature, is an elusive and political element that reveals the power dynamics within a community; what the community seeks to commemorate and preserve and what it wishes to erase and forget. In non-Orthodox liturgy—which is inherently fluid and not bound by halachic laws—Jewish memory expands and includes narratives that had long been excluded from Jewish tradition, such as LGBTQ+ discourse (since AIDS was historically perceived as a sin related to homosexual practice).

I argue that liturgical writing itself is a process of memory, making the prayer writers mediators of memory and the prayer reciters executors of that memory. Each of these practices is a memory practice: lighting the Shabbat candle (“shamor” and “zachor”), the “Al HaNissim” prayer, and the “Mi Shebeirach” prayer—all encompass past events not personally experienced but passed down by others. Collective memory, unlike personal memory, requires mediators to shape its form and bring it into being.

Therefore, I argue that these prayers contribute to the establishment of a queer-Jewish collective memory. Both the new versions of traditional blessings and the entirely new prayers seek to create a “memory chain” that connects worshipers across time—linking the past and present, as well as personal and social dimensions. The liturgical space, therefore, facilitates this process, navigating between pessimism, anger, and pain, and optimism, hope, and inclusivity.

These prayers demonstrate that the effort to frame and articulate social phenomena—like the AIDS epidemic—into memory prayers for an international day of commemoration (such as national days) exposes the politicization of memory and the fact that there is no single authentic memory, but rather community-based memories that differ from one another (Hermoni and Lebel 2012; Levy and Sznaider 2002). Therefore, Henig (2017, p. 41) suggests “to take seriously an act of prayer as a mode of historical consciousness—an assemblage of divergent sensibilities, materialities, practices and ethical conduct—in order to develop a more nuanced perspective on the past as actively and ethically in-the-making in the present”.

Queer religious memory, on the one hand, allows for Jewish exclusivity through the use of language, tools, and references from Jewish sources, while on the other hand, it also enables the establishment of a humanistic rituality that transcends religious, racial, or ethnic identity spaces. Alongside Jewish values embedded as messages in the prayers, one can also identify universal principles for advancing human rights, for all people. In other words, the commemoration, care, and healing bypass symbolic religious boundaries that separate the victims or worshippers, yet without relinquishing the use of religious tools and language to justify the Jewish context. While “compared to other sub-fields in sociology, the sociology of collective memory and commemoration is not well developed theoretically” (Conway 2010, p. 445), this study shows how the intersection of queerness and healing can elaborate this discussion and points of new typologies and paradigms.

Furthermore, I believe that the insights from this study could contribute to the development of future research examining the responses of various religious communities to the AIDS epidemic and the observance of WAD through the performance of rituals and the composition of religious texts. In recent years, we have observed the emergence of Christian liturgical writings, including prayers dedicated to WAD,21 alongside churches advocating for equal rights for LGBTQ+ individuals in both employment and religious leadership.

In sum, indeed, this works suggests that the very existence of these prayers, and the messages embedded within them, contributes significantly to raising a respectful, humane, and inclusive discourse for people living with AIDS and those infected with the virus. However, there is no doubt that the presence of this liturgy within the ritual-religious space plays an important role in shaping the social discourse in the struggle against stereotypes, stigmas, and injustices against this population. However, prayer alone is not enough; rather, extensive work is required across various other fields which can be explored in future research, as Rabbi Moskowitz concludes:

In terms of the liturgical component of this, I think it’s helpful at memorials, at events to bring awareness that people have what to say and to be able to hear the words of those who have formed liturgical components of this. But I don’t think the liturgical piece here is particularly helpful as liturgical ceremonies go because it’s not about the words, it’s about the actions. And so, we can pray for peace, but Judaism is a religion of action and we have to do more than that. We have to actually work towards it. So, learning about the history of HIV, understanding how it’s transmitted, what’s available today, I think those are the parts which give any sort of meaning or recital meaning and purpose.

(Rabbi Mike Moskowitz, CBST, November 2024)