Shlomo Pereira
Rabbi and Professor Emeritus

629. Reciting the Shema in the Kedusha of the Repetition of the Amidah

JEWISH MOMENTS IN THE LAND OF ISRAEL

629.
Reciting the Shema in the Kedusha of the Repetition of the Amidah

As Byzantine rule returned to the Land of Israel after a brief Persian occupation, Jewish worship was forced into the shadows. Imperial authorities imposed harsh sanctions on Jewish life, including a ban on public recitation of key biblical texts such as the Shema. Yet Jews were still permitted to gather for more generic acts of praise and thanksgiving, including the communal repetition of the Amidah. Within this narrow space, rabbis and poets developed creative strategies to preserve core declarations of faith, even when they could not be spoken openly.

———

One of the most ingenious devices was the insertion of the Shema into the Kedusha, the sanctification section of the repetition of the Amidah. Normally, the Kedusha centers on verses proclaiming God’s holiness: “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Hosts” from Isaiah and “Blessed be the glory of the Lord from His place” from Ezekiel. By weaving the opening line of the Shema (“Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One”) into this section, worshippers could recite their central confession of monotheism in a liturgical context that outward observers might perceive simply as part of a longer doxology. The Shema’s appearance in the Kedusha thus functioned as a kind of subterfuge: a way to fulfill religious obligation under the guise of communal praise.

Traditions from the Geonic period suggest that this strategy had precedents in Babylonia. According to later Babylonian authorities such as Sar Shalom Gaon and Pirkoi ben Baboi, a similar persecution some 150 years earlier had prohibited public recitation of the Shema in Sasanian domains, likely because its uncompromising monotheism clashed with Zoroastrian dualism. In response, Babylonian sages inserted the Shema into the Kedusha of the repetition, where it could be said less conspicuously. Once the decree was lifted, they removed this addition from most services but left it in the Musaf Kedusha of Shabbat and festivals, where there is no regular Shema and its presence would serve as a liturgical memorial of the earlier oppression.

In Byzantine Palestine after 629, a comparable situation arose when Jews, punished for their alignment with the Persians, were forbidden to recite the Shema and other biblical passages publicly, but were still allowed to assemble for more general prayers. Palestinian communities responded by expanding the role of piyyut, complex liturgical poems that could embed biblical phrases and rabbinic allusions in new frameworks—and by using the Kedusha as a shelter for the Shema. In some locales, this practice extended beyond Musaf: whenever the Kedusha was recited, the Shema was discreetly included, turning each repetition of the Amidah into an opportunity to reaffirm God’s oneness despite official bans.

These divergent trajectories later became a point of tension between Babylonia and the Land of Israel. By the time of the Geonim, after the Muslim conquest had ended Byzantine enforcement and Jews were once again free to recite the Shema in its proper place before the Amidah, Babylonian authorities regarded the continued insertion of the Shema into Kedusha as unnecessary and halachically problematic. For them, the practice was a legitimate emergency measure during persecution but should be discontinued once normal conditions returned. Palestinian communities, however, had grown accustomed to the custom and saw in it not only a practical workaround but also a powerful remembrance of suffering and steadfastness.

Geonic correspondence and polemical writings from figures like Pirkoi ben Baboi attacked the Palestinian usage as an example of inappropriate innovation—a “local custom” born under duress that should not be maintained as permanent liturgy. Over time, as the Babylonian academies at Sura and Pumbedita came to dominate halachic authority across the Jewish world, their position prevailed. The Shema remained in the Musaf Kedusha as a memorial to past decrees but was not recited in every Kedusha, and its primary, legislated place stayed in the morning and evening Shema sections of the service.

This story illustrates several important themes in Jewish history. First, it shows how liturgy is not only a fixed script but a living response to historical pressures: when direct recitation of sacred texts was forbidden, communities reconfigured the service to keep those words alive. Second, it highlights the interplay between the two great centers of late antique Judaism—Palestine and Babylonia—and how their different experiences of persecution and freedom shaped their liturgical traditions. Finally, it reminds us that some of the phrases recited today, without reflection, carry within them the memory of times when even whispering “Hear, O Israel” required courage and creativity.

______

Selected Sources and Further Reading

Elbogen, Ismar. Jewish Liturgy: A Comprehensive History. Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1993.

Heinemann, Joseph. Prayer in the Talmud: Forms and Patterns. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1977.

Nikolsky, Ronit, and Tal Ilan, eds. Rabbinic Traditions between Palestine and Babylonia. Leiden: Brill, 2014.

About the Author
RABBI SHLOMO PEREIRA received his rabbinical ordination in Jerusalem in 2004 and has served in the last two decades as assistant rabbi and education director at Chabad of Virginia. He has taught extensively on topics ranging from Jewish history and law to Jewish philosophy and mysticism. R. Pereira is the author of two widely circulated texts, “Hadrat Melech” and “Chachmei Halacha” on the history of the Jewish legal tradition. In addition, for the last five years, he has circulated a weekly historical note on the continuing Jewish presence in the Land of Israel, “Jewish Moments in the Land of Israel.” R. Pereira has a longstanding research collaboration with R. Eli Rosenfeld, head of Chabad Portugal, to bring to the limelight the contributions of the Iberian rabbis of old. This collaboration has resulted in the publication of several bilingual books: in 2018, “Jewish Voices from Portugal,” a book of sermons on the Torah portion based on the writings of rabbis who called Portugal home in the late 1400s; in 2020, “Jewish Ethics from Portugal”, focusing on the commentaries of the same rabbis on Pirkei Avot; in 2023, “Letter from Lisbon,” a book on the brief passage of the Lubavitcher Rebbe through Lisbon in 1941, as he fled the nazi onslaught in Europe; and, in 2025, “Monuments of Paper and Parchment,” a volume on the history of Hebrew printing in Portugal.
Related Topics
Related Posts
Sign in or Register
Please use the following structure: example@domain.com
Or Continue with
By registering you agree to the terms and conditions
Register to continue
Or Continue with
Log in to continue
Sign in or Register
Or Continue with
check your email
Check your email
We sent an email to you at .
It has a link that will sign you in.