Movement I
INVOCATION
SPEAKER
I have so little time, as You well know.
I want to pray, and time is short.
KADDISH 1
SPEAKER
CHORUS
Y’h? sh’m? raba m’varach
Yit’barach v’yish’tabach v’yit’pa-ar
Y’h? sh’lama raba
Translation
May His great name be blessed,
Blessed and praised and glorified,
May there be abundant peace
SPEAKER
Amen! Amen! Did You hear that, Father?
Great God,
CHORUS
(He who maketh peace in His high places,
DIN TORAH
SPEAKER
Are You listening, Father? You know who I am:
“For lo, I do set my bow in the cloud ...
CHORUS (Cadenza)
SPEAKER
KADDISH 2
SOPRANO SOLO AND BOYS’ CHOIR
SPEAKER
SCHERZO
SPEAKER
This is Your Kingdom of Heaven, Father,
Now let me show You a dream to remember!
Now behold my Kingdom of Earth!
I have You, Father, locked in my dream,
The colors of my rainbow are blinding, Father,
Believe!
Believe!
KADDISH 3
BOYS’ CHOIR
SPEAKER
O God, believe. Believe in me
See how my rainbow lights the scene.
BOYS’ CHOIR
SPEAKER
FINALE
SPEAKER
O my Father, Lord of Light!
SOPRANO SOLO, BOYS’ CHOIR, AND CHORUS
1. INVOCATION
>> IT IS COMPOSED FOR YOU, FATHER //
>> MY FIRST TEARS ARE FOR MY FAMILY AND MY PEOPLE, /
>> EQUALLY DISTANT AND INDIFFERENT WERE YOU /
>> TO THIS DAY, I AM HAUNTED BY GUILT
>> NO GRAVES FOR A STONE //
>> YIT’GADAL V’YITKADASH SHME RABA…//
(CHORUS: FULL ARAMEIC KADDISH)
SPEAKER :
>> THE INNOCENTS FOR WHOM I SPEAK ARE LEGION:
>> ACCORDING TO THE UNFATHOMABLE LOGIC //
>> THAT REIGNS IN YOUR REALM. //.
(CHORUS)
>> TREMBLING AND DEMANDING TO KNOW:
>> AT THAT CURSED PLACE AND TIME,
>> AND YET, I REMAIN FIRMLY WITHIN YOUR FOLD;
>> YOU SEE, FATHER, I AM ONE OF THE LAST SURVIVING WITNESSES
>> I WAS THERE, AND I HEARD THEIR CRIES.
>> THESE WORDS IMPOSED SACRED OBLIGATIONS,
(CHORUS)
SPEAKER:
AFTER OUR WORLD FELL APART,
(SOPRANO SOLO AND WOMEN’S CHOIR)
SPEAKER:
>> LET US LOOK TOGETHER
>> THE SLAVERY IN EGYPT,
>> IN THE EYES OF OUR ENEMIES
>> BESIDES, NOT ONLY THE GODLESS COMMIT SUCH CRIMES.
>> DECIDEDLY, SOMETHING IS AWRY IN THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN,
>> IF WE HAVE TRANSGRESSED, FATHER,
>> THE SPECTER OF A PLANETARY AUSCHWITZ
>> IN THE COURSE OF MY TORTUOUS EXISTENCE
>> ENIGMATIC MAJESTY,
>> RENEW YOUR PROMISE !…
SPEAKER :
>> YOU CANNOT BE HUMAN, FATHER, //
>> SO WE, THE SINNERS, CAN BECOME MORE GODLY? //
>> WE STRIVE TO HONOR THE LAWS AND ETHICS,
>> IF YOU CAN, IF YOU WISH,
(BOYS’ CHOIR)
SPEAKER :
BECAUSE YOUR GODLINESS,
YOU REVIVED YOUR OLD, LEGENDARY TALENT FOR MIRACLES,
YOU BROUGHT UNEXPECTED, LAVISH GIFTS FOR ME, TOO,
ABOVE ALL, YOU BLESSED ME WITH A NEW FAMILY,
>> THUS, O, GREAT GOD OF ABRAHAM,
(SOPRANO SOLO, BOYS’ CHOIR AND CHORUS: FULL ARAMEIC KADDISH).
Copyright © Samuel Pisar
Samuel Pisar was 10 years old when Hitler and Stalin invaded his native Poland. After
2 years of Soviet captivity and 4 years Nazi slavery, in Auschwitz and other death camps, he emerged, at the age 16, as only survivor of his family and his school.
He resumed his education in Australia, and went on to earn doctorates from Harvard and the Sorbonne. In 1961, he was made a U.S citizen by special Act of Congress.
Today, a world-renowned international lawyer practicing in Paris, London and New York, he has served as a member of President Kennedy’s task force on foreign economic policy and adviser to the State Department, United Nations agencies and the International Olympic Committee.
Pisar is the founder-president of Yad Vashem France, administrator of the Foundation for the Memory of the Shoah, trustee of Washington’s Brookings Institution and director of other cultural and humanitarian organizations.
He has lectured extensively throughout the world, testified before Committees of the U.S Senate, the House of Resentatives and other Parliamentary bodies, and addressed the Economic Forum in Davos, the Council on Foreign Relations in New York, the Commission on Human Rights in Paris, the Young Presidents Organization in London and Kyoto and the Nobel Foundation in Stockholm.
Pisar’s widely read books, published in 20 languages, include “Of Blood and Hope” and “Coexistence and Commerce” which, in the 1970ies inspired President Nixon’s policies toward China, Russia and Eastern Europe.
He is a Knight-Officer of the French Legion of Honor, an Officer of the Order of Arts and Letters, an Honorary Officer of the Order of Australia, a Commander of Poland’s Order of Merit, a receipient of the Elie Wiesel Award, and of other distinctions recognizing his contributions to peace, tolerance and human rights.
In 1989, Leonard Bernstein, a life-long friend of Judith and Samuel Pisar, invited him to write and narrate the international concert commemorating the 50th anniversary of the outbreak of World War II, broadcast globally from the Warsaw Grand Opera.
In 1995, at the 50th commemoration of the Allied Victory in Europe, President Bill Clinton related the saga of Pisar’s tragic adolescence, dramatic escape from Dachau and miraculous liberation by the U.S. Army, while President Jacques Chirac cited him in his historic speech acknowledging France’s responsibility for the Vichy regime’s crimes against the Jews.
Tonight marks Samuel Pisar’s first appearance at the Ravinia Festival.
I. INVOCATION
He feared his time, and all human time,
Maybe we are but an eyelash away
My father prayed, with all his might:
Amen! Amen! He couldn’t say it enough.
This God,
Surely, my father reasoned,
II. DIN-TORAH
Is my father listening now?
“I call you to account!” my father cries;
On and on my father raves,
“For lo, I do set my bow upon the cloud…
Now my father begs forgiveness,
(Kaddish 2: sop and chorus)
And so my father wrote himself and his God
III. SCHERZO
In the dream my father takes his Creator on a field trip.
Lambs frisk; wheat ripples; sunbeams dance.
Of course: that clockwork world
Surely my father’s omniscient travelling companion
And what do we suppose
Next stop on the dream tour is our fallible planet.
I would tell my father this:
Listen to my own father,
Why must my father seek out difficulty?
Isn’t he, aren’t we all better off
Simple!
Simple!
But wait, wait:
Here is what my father wished for:
His melody scampers
They tumble upward
He says we must wake up now;
The gray air brightens, and look:
It looks like we won’t solve
Maybe the most we can hope for
My father dreamed us a Kaddish,
Here is what my father would say:
Symphony No.3>
Sung in Hebrew; spoken in English
Speaker’s text by the Composer
O, my Father: ancient, hallowed,
Lonely, disappointed Father:
Betrayed and rejected Ruler of the Universe:
Angry, wrinkled Old Majesty:
I want to pray.
I want to say Kaddish.
My own Kaddish. There may be
No one to say it after me.
Is my end a minute away? An hour?
Is there even time to consider the question?
It could be here, while we are singing.
That we may be stopped, once for all,
Cut off in the act of praising You.
But while I have breath, however brief,
I will sing this final Kaddish for You,
For me, and for all these I love
Here in this sacred house.
Yit’gadal v’yit’kadash sh’m? raba …
MAGNIFIED … AND SANCTIFIED …
BE THE GREAT NAME … AMEN.
Yit’gadal v’yit’kadash sh’m? raba, amen
b’al’ma div’ra chir’ut?,
v’yam’lich mal’chut?
b’chay?chon uv’yom?chon
uv’chay? d’chol b?t Yis’ra?l,
ba’agala uviz’man kariv,
v’im’ru: amen.
l’alam ul’al’m? al’maya.
v’yit’romam v’yit’nas?
v’yit’hadar v’yit’aleh v’yit’halal
sh’m? d’kud’sha, b’rich Hu,
l’?la min kol bir’chata
v’shirata, tush’b’chata v’nechemata,
da-amiran b’al’ma,
v’im’ru: amen.
min sh’maya v’chayim al?nu
v’al kol Yis’ra?l
v’im’ru: amen.
(Magnified and sanctified be His great name, Amen
Throughout the world which He hath created
according to His will;
And may He establish His kingdom
During Your life and during Your days,
And during the life of all the house of Israel,
Speedily, and at a near time,
And say ye, Amen.
Forever and to all eternity.
And exalted and extolled and honored,
And magnified and lauded
Be the name of the Holy One, blessed be He;
Though He be beyond all blessings,
And hymns, praises and consolations,
That can be uttered in the world.
And say ye, Amen.
From heaven, and life for us
And for Israel;
And say ye, Amen.)
“Sh’lama raba! May abundant peace
Descend on us. Amen.”
You make peace in the high places,
Who commanded the morning since the days began,
And caused the dawn to know its place.
Surely You can cause and command
A touch of order here below,
On this one, dazed speck.
And let us say again: Amen.
Oseh shalom bim’romav,
Hu ya-aseh shalom al?nu
v’al kol Yis’ra?l
v’im’ru: amen.
May He make peace for us
And for all Israel;
And say ye, Amen)
With Amen on my lips, I approach
Your presence, Father. Not with fear,
But with a certain respectful fury.
Do You not recognize my voice?
I am that part of Man You made
To suggest his immortality.
You surely remember, Father?—the part
That refuses death, that insists on You,
Divines Your voice, guesses Your grace.
And always You have heard my voice,
And always You have answered me
With a rainbow, a raven, a plague, something.
But now I see nothing. This time You show me
Nothing at all.
Your image; that stubborn reflection of You
That Man has shattered, extinguished, banished.
And now he runs free—free to play
With his new-found fire, avid for death,
Voluptuous, complete and final death.
Lord God of Hosts, I call You to account!
You let this happen, Lord of Hosts!
You with Your manna, Your pillar of fire!
You ask for faith, where is Your own?
Why have You taken away Your rainbow,
That pretty bow You tied round Your finger
To remind You never to forget Your promise?
And I will look upon it, that I
May remember my everlasting covenant ...”
Your covenant! Your bargain with Man!
Tin God! Your bargain is tin!
It crumples in my hand!
And where is faith now—Yours or mine?
Amen, Amen, Amen …
Forgive me, Father. I was mad with fever.
Have I hurt You? Forgive me,
I forgot You too are vulnerable.
But Yours was the first mistake, creating
Man in Your own image, tender,
Fallible. Dear God, how You must suffer,
So far away, ruefully eyeing
Your two-footed handiwork—frail, foolish,
Mortal.
My sorrowful Father,
If I could comfort You, hold You against me,
Rock You and rock You into sleep.
Yit’gadal v’yit’kadash sh’m? raba, amen …
Rest, my Father. Sleep, dream.
Let me invent Your dream, dream it
With You, as gently as I can.
And perhaps in dreaming, I can help You
Recreate Your image, and love him again.
I’ll take You to Your favorite star.
A world most worthy of Your creation.
And hand in hand we’ll watch in wonder
The workings of perfectedness.
Just as You planned it.
Every immortal cliché intact.
Lambs frisk. Wheat ripples.
Sunbeams dance. Something is wrong.
The light: flat. The air: sterile.
Do You know what is wrong? There is nothing
to dream.
Nowhere to go. Nothing to know.
And these, the creatures of Your Kingdom,
These smiling, serene and painless people—
Are they, too, created in Your image?
You are serenity, but rage
As well. I know. I have borne it.
You are hope, but also regret.
I know. You have regretted me.
But not these—the perfected ones:
They are beyond regret, or hope.
They do not exist, Father, not even
In the light-years of our dream.
Come back with me, to the Star of Regret:
Come back, Father, where dreaming is real,
And pain is possible—so possible
You will have to believe it. And in pain
You will recognize Your image at last.
Real-life marvels! Genuine wonders!
Dazzling miracles! ...
Look, a Burning Bush!
Look, a Fiery Wheel!
A Ram! A Rock! Shall I smite it? There!
It gushes! It gushes! And I did it!
I am creating this dream! Now
Will You believe?
And You must remain till the final scene ...
Now! Look up! High! What do You see?
A rainbow, which I have created for You!
My promise, my covenant!
Look at it, Father: Believe! Believe!
Look at my rainbow and say after me:
MAGNIFIED ... AND SANCTIFIED ...
BE THE GREAT NAME OF MAN!
And they hurt Your eyes, I know.
But don’t close them now. Don’t turn away.
Look. Do You see how simple and peaceful
It all becomes, once You believe?
Yit’gadal v’yit’kadash sh’m? raba, amen.
Don’t waken yet! However great Your pain,
I will help You suffer it.
And You shall see the Kingdom of Heaven
On Earth, just as You planned.
Believe … believe.
The voices of Your children call
From corner to corner, chanting Your praises.
b’al’ma div’ra chirut? ...
The rainbow is fading. Our dream is over.
We must wake up now, and the dawn is chilly.
The dawn is chilly, but the dawn has come.
Father, we’ve won another day.
We have dreamed our Kaddish, and wakened alive.
Good morning, Father. We can still be immortal,
You and I, bound by our rainbow.
That is our covenant, and to honor it
Is our honor ... not quite the covenant
We bargained for, so long ago,
At the time of that Other, First Rainbow.
But then I was only Your helpless infant,
Arms hard around You, dead without You.
We have both grown older, You and I.
And I am not sad, and You must not be sad.
Unfurrow Your brow, look tenderly again
At me, at us, at all these children
Of God here in this sacred house.
And we shall look tenderly back to You.
Beloved Majesty: my Image, my Self!
We are one, after all, You and I:
Together we suffer, together exist,
And forever will recreate each other.
Recreate, recreate each other!
Suffer, and recreate each other!
Y’h? sh’m? raba m’varach …
TEXT AND NARRATION BY SAMUEL PISAR
CHICAGO SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA
RAVINIA FESTIVAL
AUGUST 1, 2003
>> ALMIGHTY GOD, OUR FATHER IN HEAVEN:
THIS IS MY PERSONAL KADDISH,
WRITTEN TO ACCOMPANY THE SOUL -WRENCHING MUSIC
OF MY INSPIRED AND BELOVED FRIEND, LEONARD BERNSTEIN
(MAY HE REST IN PEACE). //
>> AND FOR YOUR TORMENTED CHILDREN ON THIS EARTH. //
>> I WEEP FOR THEM ALL, AS I UTTER THIS LAMENT,
WITH GRIEF AND ANGER,
PENT UP FROM MY OWN TRAUMATIC PAST,
AND THE DELUGE OF HATRED AND VIOLENCE
THAT IS AGAIN ENGULFING THE WORLD. //
PERSECUTED FOR CENTURIES /
IN THE RELIGIOUS, ETHNIC AND IDEOLOGICAL
CAULDRONS OF EUROPE, /
AND THEN SO CRUELLY ANNIHILATED IN THE SHOAH,
WHILE YOU, KING OF THE UNIVERSE, STOOD IDLY BY. //
AS I AGONIZED, AT A TENDER AGE,
IN AUSCHWITZ, MAJDANEK AND DACHAU,
WHERE EICHMANN’S AND MENGELE’S GRUESOME REALITY
ECLIPSED DANTE’S IMAGINARY VISION OF HELL.
FOR HAVING BEEN SPARED,
WHEN SO MANY OF MINE WERE MURDERED. /
NOW, WHILE I STILL HAVE TIME,
I MUST MAKE AMENDS
FOR THE ANNUAL KADDISH I COULD NEVER RECITE.
BECAUSE I HAD NO DATES OF THEIR DEMISE, /
NO CLOSURE //
>> A FLOWER, A PRAYER,
A PRAYER FOR THEIR REDEMPTION. /
>> MAGNIFIED… AND SANCTIFIED…BE THE GREAT NAME…A-MEN !
>> AMEN! AMEN!
SH’LAMA RABA!
MAY ABUNDANT PEACE DESCEND ON US…A -- MEN! //
MY PARENTS, WHO WERE SO YOUNG WHEN THEY DIED,
MY LITTLE SISTER FRIEDA, WHO HAD HARDLY LIVED,
MY GRANDPARENTS, UNCLES, AUNTS, COUSINS,
AND HUNDREDS OF MY SCHOOLMATES.
ALL WIPED OUT IN ONE FELL SWOOP, //
>> ETERNAL GOD, TODAY I ADDRESS YOU
WITH THE SAME VISCERAL VOICE,
AND THE SAME CLENCHED FIST
I ONCE RAISED AGAINST YOU, BLASPHEMOUSLY,
AS A SKELETAL KID WITH SHAVED HEAD AND SUNKEN EYES,
TREMBLING AT THE THRESHOLD
OF A BIRKENAU GAS CHAMBER. //
“MONSTER, WHERE ARE YOU? /
HOW CAN YOU ALLOW THIS TO HAPPEN? /
DO YOU EVEN CARE? //
WHEN I DIED SO MANY DEATHS,
LIVED SO MANY TORTURES AND HUMILIATIONS…
WHEN I WAS UNABLE TO BELIEVE THAT THE WORLD
STILL TURNED AROUND A JUST AND CARING GOD,
I CALLED YOU TO ACCOUNT, FATHER, I HAD TO…
AND IN MY DESPAIR, I LASHED OUT,
LIKE MOSES SMITING THE ROCK IN THE SINAI DESERT. /
MAY YOU PARDON MY SINS,
AS I HAVE PARDONED YOURS,
AFTER OUR LONG AND STORMY ESTRANGEMENT.
I HAVE PARDONED, BUT NOT FORGOTTEN:
YES, THE WOUNDS OF MY FLESH HAVE HEALED LONG AGO.
BUT THE WOUNDS OF THE HEART
THAT BLEED FOR LOVED ONES, CAN NEVER HEAL. //
INDEED, WHAT CHOICE DO I HAVE? //
>> WHETHER YOU CREATED US, OR WE INVENTED YOU
IS NO LONGER RELEVANT.
YOUR OMNIPRESENCE, BE IT REAL OR MYTHICAL,
IS SO OLD, SO IMMENSE,
THAT WE DREAD BEING ORPHANS IN A GODLESS WILDERNESS.
I HAVE CRAWLED AS AN ORPHAN IN SUCH A WILDERNESS,
AND BROUGHT BACK ALARMING EVIDENCE OF ITS HORRORS. //
OF THE GREATEST MAN-MADE CATASTROPHE
THAT EVER BEFELL HUMAN CIVILIZATION. /
MY LIFE IS NOT ENTIRELY MY OWN;
THOSE WHO PERISHED ALSO LIVE WITHIN ME. /
DO YOU REMEMBER THE BLOOD-CURDLING CRIES
OF THE MEN, WOMEN AND CHILDREN,
THAT TORE THROUGH YOUR HEAVENS, DAY AFTER DAY,
AS THE GAS BEGAN TO CHOKE THEM TO DEATH? /
THEY HAD ONLY THREE MINUTES TO LIVE.
YET THEY FOUND ENOUGH STRENGTH
TO DIG THEIR FINGERNAILS INTO THE WALLS
AND SCRATCH IN THE WORDS: “ NEVER FORGET!” //
ON ME…AS ON YOU.
THE AUSCHWITZ NUMBER ENGRAVED ON MY ARM
REMINDS ME OF IT EVERY DAY.
AND TODAY, FATHER…I REMIND YOU. //
>> HOW CAN ONE EVEN BE SURE THAT THE HOLOCAUST
WAS TOTALLY MAN-MADE?
THAT YOUR PERPLEXING FAILURE TO PREVENT
THE EXTERMINATION OF INNOCENTS
ON SUCH A MASSIVE SCALE,
DID NOT EMBOLDED THE DEMONS IN OUR MIDST. /
AND UNLEASH THE GENOCIDAL BLOODSHED OF TODAY?
WE KNOW SINCE ADAM AND EVE,
AND THE SURVIVORS OF NOAH’S ARK,
HOW WRATHFUL AND VENGEFUL A GOD YOU CAN BE
WHEN YOU LOSE
YOUR NOTORIOUSLY SHORT TEMPER. //
>> I RECALL MY GRANDMOTHER’S SERENE FACE,
AND SWEET VOICE, SINGING LULLABYES
ABOUT HOW GOOD,
HOW CARING, HOW MERCIFUL A GOD YOU ARE.
HOW YOU WILL ALWAYS BE THERE TO COMFORT ME IN NEED. /
I OFTEN TRIED TO SUMMON HER VOICE
WHEN I NEEDED COMFORT /
THAT VOICE, SO BRUTALLY SILENCED
IN THE OVENS OF TREBLINKA. //
>> THE MEMORY OF MY GRANDMOTHER’S LULLABYES
HAS ALWAYS SOOTHED ME TO SLEEP,
EVEN WHEN I BECAME AN ADULT. /
BUT IN MY DREAMS,
ALL I COULD SEE WAS HER ANGUISH,
AS THE KILLERS TOOK HER AWAY. //
>> O LORD, HOW LADEN WITH SORROW
IS THE HISTORY OF YOUR CHOSEN PEOPLE //.
AT THE, SO CALLED, “LOVING PATERNAL COMPASSION”
YOU HAVE SHOWERED UPON US,
SINCE TIME IMMEMORIAL: //
THE BABYLONIAN CAPTIVITY,
THE ROMAN CONQUEST,
THE MARTYRDOM OF MASSADA,
THE SPANISH INQUISITION,
THE RUSSIAN POGROMS,
THE NAZI GENOCIDE,
AND TODAY, THE ISLAMIC JIHADS. /
THE LIST IS ENDLESS, FATHER,
AND BLACK CLOUDS OF INTOLERANCE
ARE THREATENING US AGAIN. /
WE ARE ALWAYS GUILTY.
GUILTY WHEN GOD-FEARING AND PEACE-LOVING,
WE ARE SLAUGHTERED LIKE SHEEP.
GUILTY OF TAKING UP ARMS,
SO WE WILL NEVER BE SLAUGHTERED AGAIN.
GUILTY OF PROCLAIMING UNIVERSAL VALUES,
AS YOU HAD COMMANDED.
GUILTY OF WARNING THAT MAN
IS CAPABLE OF THE WORST, AS OF THE BEST,
OF MADNESS, AS OF GENIUS;
THAT THE UNBELIEVABLE, THE UNTHINKABLE…IS POSSIBLE.
TRUE, WE THE CHOSEN,
HAVE NO MONOPOLY ON SUFFERING.
YOU HAVE PERMITTED HORRENDOUS CRIMES AGAINST OTHERS.
AND THEY, TOO, DESERVE AN HONORED PLACE IN MY KADDISH.//
MANY OF YOUR FAITHFUL HAVE LOST THE ABILITY
TO DISTINGUISH BETWEEN GOOD AND EVIL.
RELIGIOUS FANATICS,
VIOLATING THEIR OWN, HOLIEST SCRIPTURES,
CONTINUE TO KILL, MAIM AND TERRORISE
IN THE SANCTIFIED NAME OF YOU--OUR COMMON GOD? //
AS GLOBAL CHAOS SPREADS HERE BELOW– IN BABEL. //
FORGIVE US, FOR WE KNOW NOT WHAT WE DO.
AND HELP US BACK TO YOUR RIGHTEOUS PATH, /
BEFORE IT IS TOO LATE. //
FOR THE FINAL SOLUTION OF MANKIND,
IS FOREVER PRESENT IN MY NIGHTMARES. /
REPEAT AFTER ME, FATHER:
“NEVER FORGET”. AMEN! /
“NEVER AGAIN”. AMEN ! //
YOU HAVE PUSHED ME TO THE LOWEST DEPTHS
OF HUMAN EXPERIENCE,
AND THEN PROPELLED ME TO A FEW OF ITS HEIGHTS.
I HAVE LEARNED THE HARD WAY,
THAT AT BEST, YOU HELP ONLY THOSE WHO HELP THEMSELVES.
AND AT WORST,
YOU ARE ALTOGETHER DISINTERESTED IN OUR FATE. //
IT IS HIGH TIME THAT YOU SHOW US SOME SIGNS OF HOPE /
>> THAT YOU REAFFIRM OUR ANCIENT COVENANT /
>> AND RENEW YOUR PROMISE OF A MESSIANIC AGE. //
>> IT IS SAID THAT IN ANCIENT GREECE,
WHEN GODS WERE MORE HUMAN,
MEN WERE MORE DIVINE. //
BUT CAN’T YOU BE A LITTLE MORE HUMANE?
TRANSMITTED BY YOUR VENERABLE PROPHETS.
WE WANT TO BELIEVE IN YOU, FATHER,
WE CAN BELIEVE…
BUT CAN YOU BELIEVE IN US?
CAN YOU BELIEVE…? //
MANKIND EVERYWHERE
WILL CLAMOR YOUR SACRED NAME.
YOU WILL HEAR THE ARDENT PRAYERS,
THE JOYOUS PSALMS
OF ALL YOUR CHILDREN, IN UNISON AND HARMONY. //
>> AT THIS POINT IN MY LIFE, I AM STILL TORN,
BETWEEN REVELATION AND REASON,
ORTHODOXY AND HUMANISM,
BIBLICAL AND PHILOSOPHICAL EXPLANATIONS OF EXISTENCE.
DIFFICULT AS THEY ARE, I AM TRYING,
SINCERELY TRYING, TO RECONCILE THESE DILEMMAS,
SO I CAN GO ON WORSHIPPING YOU,
IF ONLY IN MY OWN, UNORTHODOX WAY. //
DO YOU RECALL THAT AMAZING,
SUN-DRENCHED, SPRING DAWN,
AT THE END OF WORLD WAR II,
WHEN AMERICAN GIs DELIVERED ME FROM A DEATH CAMP,
AND GAVE ME LIFE AND FREEDOM ?
I WAS JUST A BOY, ALONE, LIKE THE YOUNG JOSEPH IN EGYPT.
BUT FROM THAT FATEFUL MOMENT ON,
I NO LONGER FELT ABANDONED.
TOWARD THE ENSLAVED, THE OPPRESSED,
THE DECIMATED REMNANTS OF MY PEOPLE,
SUDDENLY BECAME DIVINELY HUMANE.
LEADING US BACK TO THE PROMISED LAND,
TO REBUILD YOUR TEMPLE,
TO INGATHER THE SURVIVORS AND THE EXILES,
AND TO UNDO SOME OF THE DEVASTATION
THAT HITLER, STALIN AND OTHER TYRANTS
HAD INFLICTED UPON US,
AND UPON THE REST OF THE WORLD.
REKINDLING MY WEAK FLICKER OF LIFE INTO A FLAME.
YOU RESTORED MY PHYSICAL, MENTAL AND MORAL HEALTH,
AND OPENED MY SHATTERED MIND
TO THE MAGIC OF KNOWLEDGE, CULTURE AND BEAUTY.
YOU EVEN TAUGHT ME HOW TO FEEL, DREAM AND LOVE AGAIN.
WHOSE BRIGHT AND HAPPY FACES
RESURRECT FOR ME EVERY DAY
THE FEATURES OF THOSE I HAVE LOST.
ONE DAY, THEY MAY SAY KADDISH FOR ME…
I BOW IN THE DIRECTION OF ETERNAL JERUSALEM,
ITS MOUNT OF YAD VASHEM, ITS WAILING WALL,
ITS SYNAGOGUES, CHURCHES AND MOSQUES,
>> TO PRAY FOR EVERYONE CREATED IN YOUR IMAGE.
>> AND FOR A MORE TOLERANT, JUST AND PEACEFUL WORLD,
A WORLD WITH LESS BLOOD AND MORE HOPE.
AMEN !
AMEN !
>> A – MEN !…
SAMUEL PISAR, Author and Narrator
When I was only small:
My lonely, nocturnal rambler of a father,
Shaking his fist at the mute heavens --
How he prayed.
He wanted to say Kaddish.
His own Kaddish… just in case no one
Was left to say it after him.
Was running out. Maybe he was right:
Right to pray for the dead-to-be.
From erasing all our footsteps,
Silencing all our songs.
So while he had breath, however brief,
My father sang this Kaddish
In his sacred house of music,
A last attempt to drag God back into the equation.
Yit’ gaddal v’yit kadash sh’me raba…
Magnified and sanctified…
Be the great name … Amen.
“Sh’lama raba!” May abundant peace
Descend on us: Amen.
Who allegedly makes peace on high,
Who can juggle suns, spin moons
And boss the stars around:
Such a God could bring a touch of order here below,
On this one, dazed speck.
And he said it again: Amen.
His Creator, not with fear,
But with a certain respectful fury,
Demanding recognition:
After all, my father tells him, you gave me the power of song
To mirror your immortality.
I’m the voice
That insists on your presence up there:
So pay attention to me!
I’ve sung to you since you started the clock.
You used to answer back
With a rainbow, a raven, a plague, something.
But you’ve been awfully quiet lately.
Awfully quiet.
Can he hear his hard fists of notes
Battering the portals?
Oh, he would shake his God by the shoulders,
Force him to look down,
Down at our acres of smoldering wreckage.
“You let this happen, Lord God of Hosts!”
As only those do who expected
Unconditional love.
He feels most betrayed
By that rainbow business:
And I will look upon it, that I
May remember my everlasting covenant…”
Those words make my father slam doors, hiss obscenities;
The spittle forms at the corners of his mouth.
Maybe it’s too much for me,
This mighty wrath. Maybe I can’t bear it.
Like a child crawling
Into the lap of an angry parent.
He longs to console his God
For that dawn-of-time mistake:
Creating humans in his own flawed image.
Listen to my father
Contemplating his God’s chagrin.
He aches to hold his Creator in his arms,
Child enfolding father
In a warm, bone-melting embrace.
A lullabye.
He invited God to dream with him.
Maybe in their dream, he hoped,
They could learn to be kind to each other again.
First they visit a star
Where everything is perfect.
No sentiment, no messy tears
No mawkish triumphal cadences.
But, says my father, something is wrong.
Can we all guess what that something is?
Contains no fog, no grime,
No seductive human ambiguity.
Could detect the trap
My father was leading him into.
Will turn out to be the antidote
To this tuneless world,
Devoid of shadows or curiosity?
This dream is nothing but a setup,
A holy sting;
My father gives his God no real choice at all.
Didn’t we all see it coming?
See the earth! Feel the pain!
Aren’t we all so much more interesting,
Loveable, meaningful?
I grow impatient with your nattering and preening,
Your mystic melodrama.
Do you think this God of yours
Will be impressed with your earthly marvels?
Are you so special, so chosen
That he’s even thinking about you at all?
Hustling his God like a carnival barker, saying:
“Look at my rainbow, which I have created for you!
My promise, my covenant!
Look at it,” he cries,
“Believe! Believe!”
My father commands: “Look at my rainbow and say after me:
Magnified… and sanctified…
Be the great name of MAN!”
Ugh!
What gray force compels him
To create these barbed-wire dissonances?
When he believes in the power
Of his own simple song?
He’s not quite ready to jettison
All that hard-won complexity.
Respect for the rigor of his thoughts,
Love for the outpourings of his heart.
Somewhere in the clasp of love to rigor
Lies the art and the faith of it.
Bright as birds
Darting among the sun-washed stones;
To the vanishing point of earth and sky.
And the dawn is chillier than ever.
We’re all still here.
And I did not flee; though I admit,
Sometimes I wanted to.
The ancient riddle this time either.
We rage at our fathers,
Who rage at their fathers,
And back and back all the way to the Creator
Who invented our grievances
But will not tell us why.
Is to locate our own heart’s voice
And fling its tiny song skyward,
As clear and weightless
As a bird at sunrise.
It’s not a grand ambition:
No purple robes, no shiny medals.
But it is the essential thing
That every single one of us can do.
Here in this sacred house of music.
He wrestled with his own voice
To show us our harmony, our dissonance.
“My God is complicated, for so I make him.
Yet he knows how I long to simplify,
Celebrate and simplify…
And my song shall simplify…
But I refuse, refuse to make it easy!”