Please wait...
Tag : Jewish Song
January 26, 2021 by Jen Gubitz
Debbie Friedman Helped Me Find My Voice
On January 28 at 8PM, Join Hebrew Union College’s Jewish Institute of Religion for Sing Unto God, a virtual event to commemorate Debbie Friedman’s legacy on the occasion of her 10th Yahrzeit. Register here.
With my long, curly, mop of dark hair, I’m buckled up in the back seat of our blue ‘86 Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera. I can’t wait. Today, it’s just me and my mom on our way to Indiana University in Bloomington. Not only are we going to eat cookies the size of our faces while my mom tells me stories of how she met my dad, but Debbie Friedman has come to give a concert.
The summer before, I spent weeks at my day camp, making up a dance to “Miriam’s Song.” We wear flowing skirts, shake tambourines, and we dance over and over again. I am a tiny feminist bringing Miriam to life, even though I don’t know what feminism is.
Music is a love language in our family; and I’m only eight when my Bubbe, the original source of music in our family, dies. This first great loss leaves me sad and withdrawn, twitchy and morbid. This trip with my mom, a musical genius in her own right, feels the closest to normal it’s been in a while. We know all the words to every song on “You Shall Be a Blessing,” and it’s in the cassette deck while we drive.
- No Comments
January 6, 2020 by admin
How Singing (Yes, Singing!) Can Create Radical Jewish Accessibility
There’s a Hasidic story about a man who lived in Poland, renowned across the country for the fervor of his prayers. So stirring was his reputation that the Baal Shem Tov decided one day to travel great lengths to see this spiritual power for himself. After making a long journey, he found a shepherd boy standing on a hilltop, holding a prayerbook and calling out letters one by one. “Bet! Reish! Vav!” he cried out, on and on, and then, “Master of the Universe, this is all I can do. You know how the prayers should be pronounced. Please, arrange the letters in the proper way.”
When I first heard this story, I recognized myself in it, and countless people I know: those of us for whom Jewish education and Jewish life has not always been accessible. Those of us filled with a hunger to express ourselves, to cry out in prayer, and to contribute, who didn’t start out knowing how to piece the letters together —metaphorically or literally. I’ve devoted my adult life and my rabbinate to creating spaces where people like me, like this fabled shepherd boy, can access Jewish tradition and thrive. Because, as this story reminds us, brilliance and creativity aren’t dependent on literacy. God receives us as we are, judging not our level of knowledge but rather the depths of our hearts. And as it turns out, one key to finding that space is through music.
- 1 Comment