Drawing the Sacred Stream of Jewish Music into the
Field of Music-Thanatology:
A Beginning
Music-Thanatology Training
Lane Community College
Professional/Academic Research Paper
July 2009
Elizabeth Markell
Copyright © 2009 Elizabeth Markell
Acknowledgements
I offer deep gratitude to the faculty of the school for their vision, dedication, support and
heartfelt presence to us as we have navigated our ways through the last 2 years. I give thanks to
my dear mentor Andrea Partenheimer and my dear first harp teacher Jeri Howe, who opened my
path into this beautiful work, and encouraged me all along the way. I thank my paper advisor
Jen Hollis, for her steady belief in my capabilities, her patience, her willingness to listen as I
talked out ideas, and her insightful editing. All my fellow students have been a safe haven,
without whom I cannot imagine having come this far. I give special thanks to Cyd, and my
amazing sweetheart James, who have listened to me, often daily, ad infinitum, as I made my way
through the writing process. I thank Janie my stepdaughter who has managed to find her way
through mazes of books and papers piled everywhere. I heartily thank Steve Berman and Sharon
Dvora for their help in finding and sifting through various musical material, and other advice,
and Stephanie Nead for encouraging me to reach out and ask for that assistance. I thank Laurie
Hunter who helped me have access to resource materials I otherwise would not have had. I offer
gratitude to my family, to my ancestors who came before me, to those who I never knew who
died in Poland during World War II. I give thanks to my dear friends who have borne with me
as my time for them was sacrificed in order to do this work. I thank the earth, without whose
nourishment I would not be here. To all, with deep and abiding love.
1
The foundational thematic material we learn as music-thanatologists is primarily based in
the European Christian tradition, carrying the resonance of those ideas and vibrations. I have
been deeply aware of this as a Jewish person working with the Catholic paradigms expressed in
many of the texts. As our profession grows, and we work with varying groups of people, I
believe it can only enrich us to incorporate music from other traditions that could expand the
palette of prescriptive possibilities, and the energies we are drawing upon as we do this work.
An experience I had working in hospice demonstrates this need for a wider range of
prescriptive choices. There is a woman I had been playing for regularly who is Jewish, in her
90’s. I will call her Miriam. One day I went for my visit and entered the sitting room where I
usually would find her. She looked up from her wheelchair, and said as she saw me, “Not
today.” I knew from staff that Miriam is lonely, so I did not just say okay and leave. I came
closer and sat with her, asking what was going on. What followed was a conversation in which
she said her brother died, that she should not wash or change clothes, that we shouldn’t play
music (mourning customs). However, this fluctuated with talk about not being invited to a
funeral, and not being sure if her brother was actually dead. Everything did not make linear,
logical sense. What came to me was to offer playing quietly and singing to her as a prayer for
her and her brother. She agreed to that.
Recently I had learned various short Jewish chants to play at a women’s seder (a ritual
Passover meal). I had the pieces I have been exploring as possible subjects for this paper. I
grounded myself, opened my heart, and called upon the divine to move through me as I sat with
her and offered the music. I sang the Hebrew words that I knew. Songs I didn’t know the words
for I sang, “Yai, dai, dai…” When I finished she looked right into my eyes and thanked me.
After a few other words of conversation she said, “I’m so happy you are Jewish.” I felt a
2
peaceful sense of connection with her. I felt her sadness and loneliness, and at the same time,
warmth emanating from her.
Prescriptively, the moment had called for me to offer connection with her ancestral
heritage through the music. She might not have known the specific melodies that I played, but
certainly recognized the Hebrew, and may have known one specific prayer. I imagine that the
music offered her roots into the rich earth of her tradition, a strength and sense of home, of
safety. I know that she has been struggling, since a fall that brought her from a state of relatively
good health to being unable to walk and dependency. She had been moved from her community
to live in another town, to be near a relative. Also, as an immigrant, (when she came to the
United States I do not know), she is far away from the land of her birth and ancestors. As an
ethnic minority within the Jewish community, she is also more isolated and alone. I believe that
having Jewish music to play for her was more supportive than offering Catholic chant or Celtic
folk song. It spoke to her soul in its own language. Certainly music can connect people across
perceived boundaries of culture and religion, but in some situations, there is power in connecting
with one’s own tradition. I have also been in situations playing Gregorian chant for Catholic
patients in which it was clear that their connection with the words, and sometimes the music,
gave extra depth and meaning to the support they received. These experiences bring to mind the
expression “mother tongue”. I imagine language and music, as loving parent. In the midst of the
many losses experienced at end of life, music/song from a person’s own heritage can be offered
as a comforting presence, carrying the nurturing energy of a culture.
The subject of Jewish music is vast and cannot be appropriately covered in this brief
paper. I offer this paper as a starting point for the field of music-thanatology to begin exploring
this deep source of potential thematic material. First of all, as Stephen Lowenstein writes, “The
3
definition of Jewish music is itself a much debated question.”
i
The history of Jewish music
explains this situation. Most Jewish musical traditions were passed down through oral traditions.
As Jews were scattered throughout the world due to various persecutions, exiles and diasporas,
their traditions were influenced by, and also influenced those of the cultures that surrounded
them. Sometimes specific tunes were borrowed, sometimes local scales or melodic styles
affected the music that was created. Through using Gregorian chant in music-thanatology, we
may be indirectly incorporating the influence of Jewish music. As Stephen Lowenstein writes,
“The relationship between traditional Jewish and traditional Catholic music is complex. It is not
just a matter of borrowing in one direction.”
ii
Various scholars have researched this subject,
coming up with varying opinions and conclusions. In any case, bringing overtly Jewish music
into our body of thematic material is more directly inclusive. Mark Slobin, an
ethnomusicologist, and Professor of Music at Wesleyan University, with 20 years experience
researching Jewish music, writes in conclusion of an article about studying Jewish music,
By setting up a series of paradoxes, I have tried to show how hard it is to work
on the music of an extraordinarily mobile, widely dispersed, and frequently
persecuted “people” who cannot easily be defined by “homeland,” “race,”
“ethnicity,” “nationality” or “religion.”
While we have made great strides in
mapping the varieties and some of the histories of Jewish musics (notice the
need for the plural) over the last fifty years; my effort has been to demonstrate
how that project has been and continues to be difficult.
iii
A.Z. Idelsohn, a pioneer in the collection of and comparative study of Jewish music,
believed and attempted to prove that the music of diverse geographic Jewish communities had
common roots. Various scholars since then have been skeptical of such claims, yet common
threads have been found between particular places.
iv
Idelsohn’s contribution to the preservation
of Jewish musical traditions culminated in the publishing in the 1920’s and 1930’s of a ten
volume collection of thousands of melodies gathered from the diverse Jewish communities
4
settled in the area around Jerusalem, which he had recorded and transcribed over the years
starting in 1907 after he emigrated.
v
These volumes are a rich resource for material.
Amnon Shiloah distinguishes seven broad traditions/styles within Jewish music: the
Yemenite tradition-one of the oldest; the Babylonian tradition-common to communities living
between Turkey and Tunisia; the Persian tradition-has also migrated to Afghanistan, Bukhara,
Georgia and the Caucuses; the western Mediterranean tradition-Italy, Greece, Turkey; the
Maghribi tradition-southern Morocco and the Atlas mountains; the Sephardi and Portuguese
style-developed in the Iberian peninsula, and after expulsion spread over the Ottoman Empire-
then absorbed into Turkish tradition, a second wave reached Morocco, a third wave went through
Portugal to Italy, Amsterdam, Hamburg, and London; the Ashkenazi tradition-most recent to
develop, beginning in the German and French Rhineland after 900 C.E., also spreading to Poland
and Russia, there influenced by Slavonic music.
vi
Looking back to the very origins of Jewish religious music, there are references in
biblical texts to Temple services accompanied by various musical instruments including
kinnors(lyres), and nevels(harps), drums, cymbals and wind instruments. However, it is
impossible to know how the music actually sounded. The shofar, the ram’s horn, is the only
instrument that has been used continuously in Jewish worship. Its sound is of a declamatory, not
melodic quality. A particular lineage of men, the Levites, sang and played the instruments. At
times the music was of a grand nature, using numerous instruments at once, and large choirs.
The Temple in Jerusalem was the center of Jewish worship. Representatives from the 24
districts, Maamadot, of the Jewish commonwealth went to participate in the daily and holiday
sacrificial rites led by the priestly class. Those who remained home gathered in groups to recite
biblical passages, a possible precursor to present day synagogues.
vii
There were synagogues in
5
Jerusalem during the time of the second Temple, which served as places to study and debate
interpretations of Torah, and to hold community events. Some believe that the synagogues may
have first developed during the Babylonian exile (597-538 B.C.E.).
viii
In 70 C.E. the second Temple was destroyed by the Romans, Jerusalem was razed, and
many Jews were killed or sold into slavery.
ix
After this time, in many communities,
proscriptions against the use of instruments (except the shofar), particularly in the synagogue,
and the limiting of music itself, were instituted as a sign of mourning for the destruction.
x
As a
result, much of the liturgical music developed as unaccompanied song and chant. The
interpretations and practices of the prohibitions over time have been varied and the subject of
debate, a topic too complex for inclusion here. For example, in contrast to the more stern
approaches, the Hasidic Jews emphasized joy in the worship of G-d, using song and dance to
induce ecstasy.
xi
In more modern times, with liberalization of various sects of Judaism,
instrumental music has made its way back into religious practice.
Another consequence of the fall of the Temple was the rise of the importance of prayer
services. Rabbis began to organize these services into set liturgies, made up of biblical passages,
psalms and prayers for particular times of day, and particular holidays.
xii
The oldest complete
prayer book, known as the Siddur of Amram Gaon, was arranged in the Babylonian academies
between 846-864 C.E. The first printed siddur appeared in 1486, a version used by Franco-
German communities (Ashkenazic Jews), while the first Sephardic prayer book, used by Jews of
Spanish and Portuguese descent, was printed in 1524. Varying editions of the siddur exist, with
inclusions and arrangement differing dependent on the community and branch of Judaism it was
written for.
xiii
Jewish liturgy has been and continues to be developing and evolving amongst the
diverse Jewish communities that exist.
6
Cantillation is an ancient musical tradition shared throughout the Jewish world. It is a
particular way of chanting during services, in between singing and reading. For biblical texts it
is guided by a system of written signs that is over 1000 years old. The signs stand for musical
motifs, and also have grammatical functions.
xiv
The current system in use, accepted by Jews
everywhere is the Tiberian system, based on the Aleppo Keter, dating from approximately 920
C.E., a hand written copy of the Old Testament containing vowels and biblical accents.
xv
This
document came out of the work, over generations, of groups of scholars called Masoretes, who
took on the task of editing and creating a version of the Hebrew Bible that could be transmitted
with consistency and accuracy.
xvi
They worked with long-standing oral traditions in this process.
Cantillation is not exactly the same as music in the sense that the text is primary. The
signs are used to show stresses within words, which clarifies their meanings, and the motifs
support the syntax and punctuation of the text, with gradations of pauses and connections
between phrases, to facilitate accurate reading, and transmission of the meaning.
xvii
The biblical
accents do not stand for a fixed set of motifs, as different communities of Jews use different
trops (sets of cantillation melodies). And within a local tradition, the same signs can be sung
differently, depending on which book of the Bible is being recited. As an example, for reading
the Torah, Ashkenazic Jews generally use the same trops, with variations between Eastern and
Western Europe. Another tradition of trops is generally shared, with subvariants, between
Morocco, Italy, Persia, Iraq, Syria, and the Sephardic community of Amsterdam.
xviii
Within the context of the rich history of Jewish music, this paper will explore the
prescriptive qualities of one piece of music from that tradition. It is a setting of Adon Olam,
which is a piyyut (piyyutim-plural), a liturgical poem/poetic hymn. The word piyyut comes from
the Greek poietes-poet.
xix
This art form has a long history. After the destruction of the second
7
Temple, the importance of synagogues grew, as I mentioned above. Services became more
standardized, and by the fifth century C.E., consistent local customs were developed. Precentors,
the leaders of the services, began composing piyyutim, which contained references to particular
holidays/occasions, and interpretations of biblical and other liturgical sources, to add variety to
the liturgy. They were meant to be sung.
xx
In the earliest piyyutim, numbers of syllables in a line and meter were not fixed. Starting
in the sixth century, rhyming and strophe were introduced, while numbers of syllables still
varied. Because music was passed down orally, the original tunes that went with specific poems
are not known. The earliest notation of a piyyut comes from a twelfth century fragment of a
manuscript written down by an Italian priest named Obadiah who converted to Judaism. It is not
known whether he composed the music or transcribed melodies that he heard.
xxi
In the Iberian peninsula, after the Muslim conquest of Spain, there was a great flowering
of the piyyut, during what was sometimes referred to as the Hebrew Golden Age. Prior to this,
the Jewish communities had suffered persecution under Christian rule. Except for short periods
of fanaticism, the Arab rulers were more tolerant towards Jews, and the Iberian peninsula
became a haven for Jews from other parts of Europe. Various creative and intellectual arts-
poetry, philosophy, Hebrew philology and Biblical exegesis- flourished during this period, which
lasted from about the middle of the 10
th
to the end of the 15
th
century. A renewal of interest in
the Hebrew language came after centuries of neglect, and the poets created piyyut with more
variety and freedom of language and feeling.
xxii
These writers were influenced by Donash ben-
Labrat, a linguist, poet and musician who introduced the use of Arab quantitative meters into
Hebrew poetry.
xxiii
A few of the most famous of these poets were Judah Ha-Levi, Moses and
Abraham Ibn Ezra, and Solomon Ibn Gabirol, who also wrote other sorts of treatises and secular
8
works as philosophers, scholars, and scientists. The blossoming of strophic poetry during this
Golden Age created a rich new body of liturgical songs. The new forms of these Spanish
piyyutim encouraged more participation of the congregation than the earlier piyyutim, which
were mainly sung by the cantor and sometimes, trained choirs. After the expulsion from Spain in
the 15
th
century, the Spanish-influenced piyyutim continued to develop in the new communities
that were established.
xxiv
One of these places, Safed, a town located in what is now northern Israel, became a
center of kabbalistic thought. According to Amnon Shiloah, the Safed kabbalists developed both
theories and applications regarding the power and function of song. He writes, “They believed
that the heavenly gates opened to receive one who intoned a Psalm, a portion of the Mishnah or
Zohar [both Jewish holy writings], and conscientiously sang hymns and supplications. He
became a part, so to speak, of the universal singing of the celestial angels, of the moving
“wheels,” and of the wind that stirs the trees in paradise.”
xxv
They developed the rite of
Qabbalat Shabbat, receiving the Sabbath, in which they would go out to the fields on Friday
before the sunset, and chant psalms, verses of the Song of Songs, and sing piyyut. The Sabbath
was welcomed as a bride and heavenly queen.
xxvi
This practice was then modified and integrated
into synagogue services.
Another practice developed by the kabbalists that inspired the writing of piyyutim, was
the idea of rising at midnight to sing. Associations developed to maintain this custom, naming
themselves such things as “Watchmen of the Morning” and “Awakeners of the Dawn”. Large
amounts of poetry were written to support this practice, and baqqashot (songs of supplication)
were extensively developed, especially in Syria and Morocco.
xxvii
Israel Najjara was one of the
most outstanding of the Safed kabbalists, who wrote hundreds of songs that were published in a
9
book that was reprinted three times during his life. He had a strong influence on the generations
that followed.
xxviii
My discussion has centered on the development of Sephardic piyyut. Piyyut developed in
the Ashkenazic tradition, but in a different direction. They more closely followed the patterns of
the classical piyyut, using more “esoteric allusive language,” and often reflected the heaviness
and gloom of oppression experienced by the central European Jews.
xxix
As with many piyyutim, there are a number of melodies for Adon Olam, varying from
community to community, and by occasion. The author of Adon Olam is not known for sure.
Sometimes the poem is attributed to the poet and philosopher Solomon Ibn Gabirol who lived
from 1021-1059, and was part of the Hebrew Golden Age mentioned above. Others believe it
dates further back, to the Babylonian Jewish community.
xxx
It is found in prayer books since the
15
th
century.
xxxi
According to a Jewish encyclopedia originally published between 1901-1906,
“
The Adon ‘Olam is one of the most familiar hymns in the whole range of the Jewish liturgy,
employed in the various rituals all over the world…”
xxxii
In Sephardic tradition it is sung at the
end of Shabbat and holiday morning services. In Ashkenazic tradition, it is used to close the
Shabbat eve services. In both traditions it is recited as part of Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement)
services. It is sung both at wedding celebrations, and at the bedside of the dying in Moroccan
tradition.
xxxiii
It is also found in the composition of bedtime prayers.
xxxiv
It is one of the few
exactly metrical piyyutim, with formal language and rhyme pattern.
xxxv
The versions in the
Sephardic liturgy vary from twelve to sixteen lines, while the standard version used in
Ashkenazic liturgy contains ten lines.
xxxvi
The musical setting that I have chosen was taught to me by Steve Berman. He learned it
from Cantor Robert Michael Esformes. The transcription can be found on pages 20-21 of this
10
paper. The melody comes from the Sephardic community in Amsterdam. In 1492, Jews were
given a choice of conversion to Catholicism or exile from Spain. Large numbers of Jews left,
some of them fleeing to Portugal. However a few years later, from 1496 into1497, those Jews in
Portugal were given a choice of conversion or leaving without their children. In this situation,
many converted outwardly, but tried to maintain their faith in secret under the threat of the
Inquisition. Some generations later, due to a variety of factors, descendents of these families
were more able to leave.
xxxvii
According to Israel Adler, “The Low Countries [including
Holland], liberated from Spanish rule became from the end of the 16
th
century onwards a favorite
refuge for Marranos [secret Jews] of the Iberian peninsula” who wanted to return to overt
Judaism.
xxxviii
Over the generations, many had lost the knowledge of their traditions. In
contrast, the Jews driven out of Spain in 1492 that had settled in communities in Constantinople,
Smyrna, Salonika, North Africa, and later in Venice were able to preserve their culture and
liturgy. Rabbis were brought in from these places to teach and minister to the emigrants.
xxxix
According to Abraham Lopes Cardozo, who was born in Amsterdam in 1914, and was a hazzan
(reader and leader of services) for 40 years, “We find many modal unrhythmical chants in the
Oriental and even in the Italian tradition, which were molded in the Northern European
communities of the Sephardim into rhythmical tunes, most likely influenced by the style and
spirit of Northern European music.”
xl
In Amsterdam there was a flourishing of teaching and learning, and a blossoming of
Jewish culture in the 17
th
and 18
th
centuries, including the setting up of Hebrew print works.
Amsterdam was sometimes called “The Jerusalem of the North.” A number of rabbis and
cantors in Amsterdam were celebrated harpists.
xli
Ninety percent of the Jewish population of
Holland was killed during World War II.
xlii
Cardozo was one of the few surviving members of
11
the Dutch Spanish and Portuguese community, as he left in 1939 to serve a congregation in
Suriname, and then in 1945 went to New York. In the forward to his collection Sephardic Songs
of Praise, he writes of feeling “that it is a privilege and awesome duty to share this tradition with
others. So that what was so lovingly preserved for so many years will not be lost.”
xliii
Perhaps in
using this music we can humbly contribute to offering recognition and healing to this history.
Sephardic music was generally conceived as monophonic and a cappella, and as with
much of Jewish music, has been passed down through oral tradition.
xliv
Therefore,
harmonization itself is not traditional, and thus flexible and open to interpretation. I use the
harmonization taught to me by Steve Berman. I found a very similar melody to the one I learned
from Steve in the collection Sephardic Songs of Praise,
by Abraham Lopes Cardozo, which he
identifies as a Shabbat melody,
xlv
and another in Ramon Tasat’s collection, Sephardic Songs for All. I decided to offer the variant I originally learned. Even within the melody Steve taught me,
he sang variations (which I did not notate) in the last two verses as follows: varying the pick-up
to the fifth measure from a D to the A below it; and varying the pick up to the eight measure
from being two eighth notes- E to D, to being one eighth note-D, which makes the A preceding it
change from a quarter note to a dotted quarter note. I encourage those readers who choose to use
this music to consider being flexible in this way, as that is part of the nature of this oral tradition.
The text:
The words are a prayer about the eternal quality of the divine, along with a personal
connection to the divine. I found translations containing varied shades of meaning. I invite
those who are interested to seek out other versions. I present two for consideration.
12
Here is one literal translation from Machzor for Rosh Hashanah, by Rabbi Menachem David,
given below the transliterated Hebrew from Meta Siddur, v.5.0, by Rabbi David Wolfe-Blank:
Adon olam asher malakh, b’ter-em kol y’tzir niv’ra
Master of the universe, who reigned before any form was created
l’ayt na-a-sa v’khef’tzo kol, azai melekh sh’mo nik’ra
At the time when His will created all things, then as “King” his name was proclaimed
V’a-kharay kikh’lot hakol l’vado yim’loch nora
After the end of all, He alone will reign-the Awesome One
v’hu haya v’hu hoveh v’hu yih’yeh b’tifara
It is he who was and He who is and He Who shall remain in splendor
V’hu ekhad v’ayn shayni l’ham’shil lo l’hakhbira
He is One and there is no second to compare to Him or to be His equal
b’li rayshit b’li takh’lit v’lo ha-oz v’hamis’ra
Without beginning, without conclusion, His is the power and the dominion
V’hu Elli v’khai go-ali v’tzur khev’li b’ayt tzara
He is my God, my living Redeemer, a Rock (to save from) my pain in a time of distress
V’hu nisi umanos li m’nat kosi b’yom ek’ra
He is my banner, a refuge for me, the portion of my cup on the day I call
B’yado afkid rukhi b’ayt ishan v’a-ira
Into His hand I shall entrust my spirit, when I go to sleep- and I shall awaken
V’im rukhi g’viyati Adonai li v’lo ira
xlvi
With my spirit my body shall remain; Hashem is with me, I shall not fear
xlvii
13
Here I offer a translation written by Steve Berman that is freer:
Eternal spirit
who for delight
sang up the stars
Who will still sing on
when the star we call sun
is a burned out husk
You move so far beyond us
yet You are the sheltering rock
the wine that transforms
Lying down, waking up
we place in your hands
body and soul
O faithful one
Trusting in You
Our fears take flight
xlviii
What I contemplate as prescriptive in the text:
The whole poem rhymes, with every verse ending in the syllable “ra”. The open “ahh”
sound at the end of each phrase offers spaciousness and a pathway toward the heart alongside the
security of the strong metrical structure. The language of Hebrew itself offers a variety of
qualities to contemplate. It has the characteristic guttural “kh” sound, as in “Bach”, which gives
it a very different sound quality than English or Latin. Hebrew was used as a spoken language
during ancient times until about the 3
rd
century B.C.E., when it was displaced by Aramaic. After
this, it continued to be used for literary and liturgical works. It was revived as a spoken language
during the 19
th
and 20
th
centuries, when Modern Israeli Hebrew was developed.
xlix
So, for most
of Jewish history, Hebrew has been the “language of prayer, holy texts and scholarship…”
l
With
some exceptions, the use of Hebrew unites Jewish communities all over the world. However,
14
because historically it was texts that were shared, pronunciation developed differently in
different geographic locations.
li
In his book, The Hebrew Alphabet: A Mystical Journey
, Edward Hoffman says “The
early rabbis regarded the letters as existing independently in a transcendent realm, and taught
that when Moses ascended Mount Sinai to receive the Torah, he saw G-d designing crowns for
the individual letters.”
lii
He goes on to discuss the importance of the Hebrew alphabet in Jewish
mysticism, from as early as the text known as the Sefer Yetzirah (Book of Formation), in which
the letters are considered “the manifestation of celestial patterns of energy.”
liii
The Sefer
Yetzirah was probably written in Palestine or Babylonia sometime between the 3
rd
and 6
th
centuries, and greatly influenced later Jewish thought.
liv
These imaginings can deepen our
conceptualization of the beauty and power in the words. I have included below a reproduction of
Adon Olam (the Ashkenazic version) in the Hebrew language from A Contemplative Prayer
Book, designed by Sharon Dvora:
15
This poem invokes the eternal quality of the divine, that it is a source always available to
us, a rock in time of pain and distress, a refuge. It invites the possibility that we can trust in the
care of the divine, awake or asleep, body and spirit, and not be afraid. I imagine the possibility
of offering this text in situations where there is fear and/or anxiety, in situations where trust has
been broken, where hope has been lost, where someone feels abandoned, offering the possibility
of that rock of solid support, that at the same time is eternal and without boundaries. I imagine
offering this when someone has not been able to rest, or feels unsafe. I imagine invoking this
text- the part about the divine filling the portion of one’s cup- for someone who has been
drained, perhaps when family members/loved ones are looking exhausted, or when a patient has
been fighting illness for a long time.
The words nisi and umanos, here translated as “banner” and “refuge”, come from the root
for “miracle”, and “so allude to miracles as well,”
lv
according to J. Hoffman in My People’s
Prayer Book. This invites us to further levels of prescriptive imagining, such as holding the
potential for healing of the spirit or soul that may not be thought possible by ordinary means. I
imagine offering the possibility of recognition that each one of us is a part of the eternal
splendor/glory/beauty. I imagine offering this prayer to reflect a person’s faith and
connectedness with the divine, to honor that.
In My People’s Prayer Book, Ellen Frankel and Lawrence Hoffman both point out the
beauty of the juxtaposition of divine transcendence and immanence, G-d being the eternal king,
infinite and incomparable, yet also being intimate, and available as “my redeemer”, “my
banner”, ready to fill the portion of “my cup”.
lvi
I appreciate Hoffman’s statement,
…the certainty of our own personal entanglement in a divine purpose
mysteriously beyond our ken is what counts. How else shall we face death—
as we all will? Here is the greatest Jewish promise of all: even the most
16
miniscule and shattered of lives matter to the infinite intelligence of the
universe whom we name G-d; since “Adonai is mine, I shall not fear.”
lvii
For situations in which the patient and/or family does not have a belief in the divine, or
are agnostic, I imagine this piece invoking the possibility of finding support, replenishment,
solidity, and safety from whatever source a person relates to. I can imagine the concept of love
in place of the divine, and invoking the eternal beauty of love as the source of nourishment,
strength and support.
The music:
The piece is in 4/4 time, and is in a major key. These characteristics offer qualities of
stability, strong structure, warmth and brightness. The ambitus spans a perfect fourth below the
tonic to the sixth above, in all a major ninth. The melody consists of 16 major seconds-7 up and
9 down, 8 minor seconds-4 up and 4 down, 11 repeated notes, 1 fourth up, 1 minor third down, 1
minor third up, 1 minor third down and 1 fifth up. The motion of the song is gradual and gentle,
with so many stepwise and repeated intervals. After the beginning leap of a fourth, from the
dominant to the tonic, the first phrase slowly rises, with plateaus on the tonic, the third, and the
fifth. It rises up to the sixth and then falls down, landing on a plateau on the fourth, but reaching
there from the third of the scale, a minor second below. The second phrase begins with the leap
of a minor third to a plateau on the fourth, moving through an ornamental melisma, dropping to a
plateau on the third. Then it falls down to the sixth below the tonic, jumps up a fifth to the third
before falling again to the seventh, to reach up and end on the tonic.
The movement of the melody is interesting to me in that it rises so steadily and slowly
with the plateaus, whereas the falling motions happen more quickly. To me, this can be seen as
17
reflecting the qualities in the text of offering the strength and support of the divine- the repeated
notes like stepping stones, the gently falling parts, like falling back into the hand of the divine,
into protection and safety. Also, it is mostly a syllabic song, and the few melismas add a feeling
of tenderness and delicacy amidst the stepping along. The range of the melody, when in C Major,
from G below middle C to the A above middle C, is relatively low, and offers the sense of
grounding and closeness to earth, a quality also emphasized by the fact that the melody does not
rise above the sixth of the scale. It could be useful in situations when higher tones might be
irritating to a patient. It can also be played an octave higher for variety, in a range that is not too
extremely high.
The harmonization moves mostly very slowly, staying on tonic for three measures, then
moving to the two chord on the last measure of the first phrase, giving a feeling of suspension,
and with the minor chord, an opportunity to move inwards. In the second phrase, it starts on that
minor two chord for one measure, moves back to the tonic, and shifts to the four chord in the
middle of the second to the last measure, moves to the five chord for two beats before returning
to the tonic. So the harmonization speeds up just at the end, like a little push after going steadily
along. Also, melodically, it moves more complexly in the last two measures, dipping down
below the tonic twice, and then jumping above the tonic, then dipping down below the tonic once
more before coming home. It reminds me of wrapping soft layers, like a blanket, around the
tonic, offering safety and comfort.
The rhythmic pattern of the poem is very regular. The music begins before the main beat,
with an eighth note pick up, that leaps upwards, jumping from the dominant to the tonic. In a
way one could describe it as beginning with a leap home, a leap that comes from outside of the
boundaries, as if the beginning comes from something else’s ending, or a stream that was already
18
moving. Yet the quality of the leap upwards creates what sounds to me like a question, not a
settled sense of being on the home note. Throughout the song, every phrase begins with a pick
up, except for the first phrase of the last verse, on the word b’yado, which means “in His hand”.
For me, the result of all the pick ups is a sense of continuity, of one phrase flowing out of
another, of cyclical nature, the experience of no beginning or end. The sense of flow also softens
the foursquare nature of the meter.
When I think of the option of offering this song with vocals and no text, I imagine it
might work better at times to use a syllable like “la”, “lai” or “loo”, rather than just a plain
vowel, because of the frequency of repeated notes. In that way it would carry the feeling of the
melody better. Of course there might be situations in which open vowels would make
prescriptive sense.
In relation to the other thematic material we have, I see this piece filling a need for a
short, simple metered song in C major, as it is not as complex as Gartan Mother’s Lullaby. It can
offer ease of entry into music and a sense of warmth and familiarity with the major tonality, yet
it is not totally bright, as it contains the d minor chords. Also it is in 4/4 time which offers a
different quality than the 3/4 time found in many of our metered pieces, a sense of stability and
solidity. It suites very nicely with Adoro te devote, Salve Regina, and Salve Mater. The mainly
stepwise motion balances the triadic beginnings of Adoro te devote and Salve Regina, and the
simplicity complements the complexity of Salve Mater. In terms of the text of Adon Olam,
traditionally the words for the divine are translated as masculine, so one could interpret this as
bringing in a loving, supportive father element that complements the mother element of the two
Salve’s. I often chose to imagine the divine as without gender, but offering the quality of love
through the mother or father image can be a prescriptive choice in various situations. I have
19
noticed that the chants included in our basic thematic material that speak to the more masculine,
father aspect of G-d are mainly asking for help (Deus meus, A porta inferi), whereas Adon Olam
includes honoring the qualities of the masculine divine, and a sense of connecting with it as well.
This offers prescriptive possibilities of inviting healing in father-child relationships, or honoring
the beauty witnessed in father-child relationships.
In this paper I have chosen to discuss this one setting of one piyyut. Other melodies exist,
in other meters and other keys or modes for Adon Olam that would have other prescriptive
possibilities. The vast number of piyyutim offers a rich source of beautiful texts and melodies to
explore. Cantillation melodies for psalms or biblical texts, Zemirot (songs sung around the table
on Shabbat and holidays), pizmonim (hymns with refrains), penitential prayers, Hasidic nigunim,
songs in Ladino and other Jewish vernacular tongues all offer other potential pieces of
appropriate material for our work as music-thanatologists. Some of these pieces are written in
modes and scales that are different from the ones we already use, that can add new potentials for
reflection and support in the vigil setting. For example, there is a mode used in some Jewish
music called Ahava Rabbah (Great Love- the name of a prayer in which it is used) that contains a
unique intervallic progression. The scale begins with a half-step between the root and the second,
then one and a half steps between the second and third, then a half step between the third and
fourth (starting on C, it would be C-D flat-E-F), creating what some people describe as a
plaintive sound. There are already other pieces I have found that I would like to introduce and
write about, but did not have room to include here. I hope this paper will inspire others to
investigate possibilities from this rich and greatly varied tradition, to expand and enhance our
practice of music-thanatology.
20
21
22
Notes
i
Steven M. Lowenstein, The Jewish Cultural Tapestry: International Jewish Folk
Traditions, (New York: Oxford University Press, Inc., 2000) 176.
ii
Lowenstein, 186.
iii
Mark Slobin, “Learning the Lessons of Studying Jewish Music,” Judaism 44, 2 Spring
1995: 224-225.
iv
Lowenstein, 177.
v
Velvel Pasternak, “Abraham Zvi Idelsohn,” Thesaurus of Hebrew Oriental Melodies,
Volumes 8-10, 1974, by A.Z. Idelsohn, (U.S.A: Tara Publications, 1999) no page number.
vi
Amnon Shiloah, “The Ritual and Music of the Synagogue,” The Jewish World: History
and Culture of the Jewish People, ed. Elie Kedourie (New York: Harry N. Abrams, Inc., 1979)
120-121.
vii
Jeffrey A. Summit, The Lord’s Song in a Strange Land: Music and Identity in
Contemporary Jewish Worship (New York: Oxford University Press, Inc., 2000) 23-24.
viii
Emanuel Rubin and John H. Baron, Music in Jewish History and Culture
2006
(Sterling Heights, MI: Harmonie Park Press, 2008) 52.
ix
Rubin, 47.
x
Amnon Shiloah, Jewish Musical Traditions
(Detroit: Wayne State University Press,
1992) 73.
xi
Shiloah, Jewish Musical Traditions
, 75.
xii
Summit 24.
xiii
Nathaniel Kravitz, 3,000 Years of Hebrew Literature
(Chicago: The Swallow Press,
1972) 369-370.
xiv
Lowenstein 179.
xv
Shiloah, Jewish Musical Traditions
, 100.
xvi
Rubin 70.
xvii
Shiloah, Jewish Musical Traditions
, 102.
23
xviii
Lowenstein, 179-182.
xix
Eric Werner, “Hebrew and Oriental Christian Metrical Hymns: A Comparison,”
Contributions to a Historical Study of Jewish Music
, ed. Eric Werner (U.S.A.: Ktav Publishing
House, Inc., 1976) 56.
xx
Eliyahu Schliefer, “Jewish Liturgical Music from the Bible to Hasidim,” Sacred Sound
and Social Change: Liturgical Music in Jewish and Christian Experience, ed. Lawrence A.
Hoffman and Janet R. Walton (Notre Dame, Indiana: University of Notre Dame Press, 1992) 29-
30.
xxi
Schliefer, 30-32.
xxii
Nathaniel Kravitz, 3,000 Years of Hebrew Literature
(Chicago: The Swallow Press,
1972) 232-234.
xxiii
Shiloah, Jewish Musical Traditions
, 249.
xxiv
Shiloah, Jewish Musical Traditions
, 112.
xxv
Shiloah, Jewish Musical Traditions
, 146.
xxvi
Shiloah, Jewish Musical Traditions
, 147.
xxvii
Shiloah, Jewish Musical Traditions
, 149-150.
xxviii
Shiloah, Jewish Musical Traditions
, 123.
xxix
Shiloah, Jewish Musical Traditions
, 121.
xxx
“Adon Olam,” Thesaurus of Jewish Music: Lexicon
, Jewish Music Research Center
The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 19 August 2008, 10 May 2009 .
xxxi
Abraham Lopes Cardozo, Sephardic Songs of Praise
, 1987 (U.S.A.: Tara
Publications, 2004) 24.
xxxii
Frances L. Cohen and Kaufmann Kohler, Jewish Encyclopedia
, “Adon ‘Olam”, 2002,
5/10/2009 originally
published between 1901-1906.
xxxiii
“Adon Olam,” Thesaurus of Jewish Music: Lexicon
, Jewish Music Research Center
The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 19 August 2008, 10 May 2009 .
24
xxxiv
Ariel Scheib, “Adon Olam,” Jewish Virtual Library
, The American-Israeli
Cooperative Enterprise, 7/6/2009
.
xxxv
Cohen and Kohler.
xxxvi
Ramon Tasat, Sephardic Songs for All
(Owing Mills, MD: Tara Publications, 2000)
20.
xxxvii
Lowenstein, 35-36.
xxxviii
Israel Adler, Musical Life and Traditions of the Portuguese Jewish Community of
Amsterdam in the XVIIIth Century (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1974).
xxxix
Herman P. Salomon, “Hispanic Liturgy among Western Sephardim,” Selected
Sephardic Chants, Abraham Lopes Cardozo (U.S.A: Tara Publications, 1991) 61-62.
xl
Abraham Lopes Cardozo, Sephardic Songs of Praise
, 1987 (U.S.A.: Tara Publications,
2004) XI.
xli
Adler.
xlii
Cardozo, X.
xliii
Cardozo, X.
xliv
Tasat, 6.
xlv
Cardozo, 24.
xlvi
Rabbi David Wolfe-Blank, Meta Siddur, v.5.0
(Seattle, WA: self-published, 1998)
43.
xlvii
Rabbi Menachem David, ed. Machzor for Rosh Hashanah with an Interlinear
Translation, Nusach Sefard, Artscoll Series, The Schottenstein Edition (Brooklyn: Mesorah
Publications, Ltd., 2004) 219-220.
xlviii
Steve Berman, tr., Sharon Dvora, design, A Contemplative Prayer Book
(Ashland:
self-published, 2009) 28.
xlix
“Hebrew language.” Encyclopædia Britannica
. 2009. Encyclopædia Britannica
Online. 11 July 2009 .
25
l
Lowenstein, 49.
li
Lowenstein, 51.
lii
Edward Hoffman, The Hebrew Alphabet: A Mystical Journey
(San Francisco:
Chronicle Books, 1998) 11.
liii
Edward Hoffman, 12.
liv
R.J. Zwi Werblowsky, “Jewish Mysticism” The Jewish World: History and Culture of
the Jewish People, ed. Elie Kedourie (New York: Harry N. Abrams, Inc., 1979) 219.
lv
Lawrence A. Hoffman, ed. My People’s Prayer Book: Traditional Prayers, Modern
Commentaries, Vol. 5, Birkhot Hashachar (Morning Blessings) (Woodstock, VT: Jewish Lights
Publishing, 2001) 97.
lvi
Lawrence A. Hoffman, ed., 94-95.
lvii
Lawrence A. Hoffman, ed., 95, 98.
26
Bibliography
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Berman, Stephen, tr., and Sharon Dvora, design. A Contemplative Prayer Book. Ashland:
self-published, 2009.
Cardozo, Abraham Lopes. Sephardic Songs of Praise. 1987. U.S.A.: Tara Publications, 2004.
Cohen, Frances L., and Kaufmann Kohler. “Adon ‘Olam.” Jewish Encyclopedia. 2002. 10
May 2009
originally published between 1901-1906.
David, Rabbi Menachem, ed., Machzor for Rosh Hashanah with an Interlinear Translation,
Nusach Sefard, Artscoll Series, The Schottenstein Edition. Brooklyn: Mesorah
Publications, Ltd., 2004.
“Hebrew language.” Encyclopædia Britannica. 2009. Encyclopædia Britannica Online.
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1998.
Hoffman, Lawrence A., ed. My People’s Prayer Book: Traditional Prayers, Modern
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Lights Publishing, 2001.
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York: Oxford University Press, Inc., 2000.
Pasternak, Velvel. “Abraham Zvi Idelsohn (1882-1938).” Thesaurus of Hebrew Oriental
Melodies, Volumes 8-10. By A.Z. Idelsohn. 1974. U.S.A: Tara Publications, 1999. no
page number.
27
Rubin, Emanuel, and John H. Baron. Music in Jewish History and Culture. 2006. Sterling
Heights, MI: Harmonie Park Press, 2008.
Scheib, Ariel. “Adon Olam.” Jewish Virtual Library. The American-Israeli Cooperative
Enterprise. 6 July 2009
.
Schliefer, Eliyahu. “Jewish Liturgical Music from the Bible to Hasidim.” Sacred Sound and
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Hoffman and Janet R. Walton. Notre Dame, Indiana: University of Notre Dame Press,
1992. 13-58.
Shiloah, Amnon. Jewish Musical Traditions. Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1992.
Shiloah, Amnon. “The Ritual and Music of the Synagogue.” The Jewish World: History and
Culture of the Jewish People. Ed. Elie Kedourie. New York: Harry N. Abrams, Inc.,
1979. 120-127.
Slobin, Mark. “Learning the Lessons of Studying Jewish Music.” Judaism 44. 2 (Spring 1995):
220-225.
Summit, Jeffrey A. The Lord’s Song in a Strange Land: Music and Identity in Contemporary
Jewish Worship. New York: Oxford University Press, Inc., 2000.
Tasat, Ramon. Sephardic Songs for All. Owing Mills, MD: Tara Publications, 2000.
Werblowsky, R.J. Zwi. “Jewish Mysticism.” The Jewish World: History and Culture of the
Jewish People. Ed. Elie Kedourie. New York: Harry N. Abrams, Inc., 1979. 217-223.
Werner, Eric. “Hebrew and Oriental Christian Metrical Hymns: A Comparison.” Contributions
to a Historical Study of Jewish Music. Ed. Eric Werner. U.S.A.: Ktav Publishing House,
Inc., 1976. 13-58.
Wolfe-Blank, Rabbi David. Meta Siddur, v.5.0. Seattle, WA: self-published, 1998.
