Highlights

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One of my favorite resources is Jill Hammer’s Kohenet Siddur, which remakes the poetry of the traditional Hebrew liturgy to use female titles, pronouns, and verb forms. Instead of praying to the male “Adonai,” we get to pray to the divine feminine “Shekhina,” and it always feels like a devious form of rebellion everytime I chant “Berachu at Shekhina,” instead of “Baruch atah adonai.”

✏️ Fascinating that there are active movements to switch from divine masculine to divine feminine

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She feels no pressure to conform or fear that having a negative attitude will push people away—she knows her own worth.

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Unlike Moses, Burnham gets to grow from her mistakes. Her experiences in exile—both in prison and then the year she spends in the future waiting for the rest of her crew to arrive—force her to confront herself and grow into her destiny. Mirror Georgiou acts as her angel, forcing her to wrestle both physically and mentally and face the darkest parts of herself. In commemorating Georgiou, Burnham notes, that she was the “wall I crashed into over and over and over again,” while also serving as a “tormentor, but a truthteller.” When Burnham finally assumes the captain’s chair, she has a new appreciation of the responsibilities it entails.

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I was worried when Georgiou’s character left the show at the end of season three that there would be a vacuum of prickly female leaders to keep Burnham on her toes. But the 32nd century has seen a slew of new fantastic female leaders, from the meditative Ni’Var President T’Rina, the calculating Federation President Rillak, not to mention Burnham’s mother Gabrielle, a warrior nun in the Romulan Order the Qowot Milat (In Picard, we first meet the Qowat Milat on the planet Vashti, which… talk about a badass female Jewish icon). And Burnham uses her experience to be a mentor to others like Sylvia Tilly and Adira Tal, to model a leadership that can be strong as well as vulnerable, decisive and collaborative.