Building an Ark, Building an Oud
From Rabbi Zach Fredman
Dear Friends,
After only a week in Jerusalem I miss our community dearly, but I have carried our holiday meditations with me, and I begin this note with just a few of the many saunterings that have already marked my journey.
I landed in Jerusalem with a few hours to waste away, before meeting someone at the apartment I was to rent. I thought I'd sit and do email at the airport, but a few minutes after finding a comfortable place, a cab driver convinced me that we could waste away the time at a cafe or the like. We hop in the car, and casually I say, if you have anything to do I'm happy to tag along - half jokingly. "Actually, I do have something, my vineyard ..." All of this in Hebrew and I follow most of it. Next thing I know we have veered off the road from Jerusalem into a massive vineyard, with no one else in sight. Yes, the beauty is stunning, but I am imaging this man is going to take all my money and leave me stranded. He tells me stories along the way of his homeland, Iran, and how he recently survived a fall from three stories and was healed by natural medicines. Shmuel.
We get out of the car and the vineyard is stunning; he tells me I am welcome to sit and do work on my computer, or come with him. When I see that he is completely serious - he has his clippers, two pairs, and garbage bags - that he is really getting ready to cut grapes, all of my anxiety flees, and I cannot believe the blessing I have stumbled into. We spent two hours in a vineyard at 7am, cutting grapes, telling stories, singing and laughing. This is how I arrived.
Last night, I went to hear the Baqashot (penitence prayers) at the Great Synagogue Ades - of the Glorious Aleppo community (Syrian Jews). I arrived at 3am and tried for a seat in the back of the already full house, but someone motioned firmly that it was reserved, for the singers or something. I ended up in one of the best seats in the house, near the front. The benches are facing in all directions, so you end up inside pocket minyanim within the larger congregation. The paytanim (singers) sit in the front pockets, on the outside benches facing inward - I sat facing them. The two front pockets lead the singing - and it is something of a sport, each team composed of 6-8 paytanim, the vocal lead passing from individual to the group back and forth side to side. The choreography in voice, the passing of the baton, happens almost seamlessly and when it doesn't there are grumblings and dirty looks. Over the course of the morning hours, I began to love my teammates. Amazing faces! A round bald man leading the way, his son with the sleek suit, his friend in a plaid short sleeve T; the one that went from sleeping to singing in no time, the bratzlaver with a beautiful boom - and my favorite voice - the old man. They would shush the kahal (community) every time he sang, because his voice is soft, but everyone yearned for his ornamentations, because they were the finest. I cannot describe this beauty. He had a great suit - grayish, with a bright blue shirt, and a yellow tie; he wore a small fedora, with a nice weave - he seamed upset that our side was quieter than theirs, but I liked this. They brought around sweet tea, on platters, and I watched the light turn from dark to day. The rabbi offered a fiery d'var Torah (teaching) at about 5am, just before mizmor shir leyom hashabbat. He spoke of being human, and the necessity to pay close heed to the movement in one's inner life. I enjoyed his words, and his tone. I left around 6:30am and roamed the streets of Jerusalem a bit, before heading home for a snack and a nap.
This week's torah portion tells the story of Noah, and the ark which he builds. I visited another ark builder this week, in the northern city of Nazareth - an oud maker, by the name of Hatem Jubran. You can see the ouds and the children he has made here.
As we sat and talked ouds, I thought about Noah's ark. The rabbis understand the imperative to build an ark, as a commandment to create a home for the spiritual self. We are each ark-builders, and I learned some lessons, from a true master.
"Make yourself an ark of cedar wood (6:14)" - Hatem the oud-man told me all about wood - how they've begun using rosewood, which is expensive and difficult to acquire now that the Indian government has taken control of rosewood manufacturing and export. He says it changes nothing, or very little, in the sound. He showed me the different wood qualities for the face - the wider the space between the grains, the cheaper the wood. The Midrash teaches that Noah planted cedar trees for 120 years; this wood would one day be the wood for the ark. Sometimes our spiritual work does not yield immediate fruit - in fact, the harvest will be reaped in the unforeseeable future, and the connection between cause and effect will remain unknown.
"With chambers you will make it, and you will cover it with pitch, within and without (6:14)" - We looked at insides more than outsides. He put an unfinished oud in my hands, and it was nothing but the empty belly, lacking a finishing coat and sticky on my fingers. But it was meticulously clean - no extra glue, dirt, or dust. All the other ouds in the workshop, present for repair, looked like garbage dumps in comparison. Remove everything but essences - we spoke about this over the New Year. The spiritual self resides in emptiness - do away with all excesses, be they oud-glue or of a different nature.
"Make a window for the ark (6:16)" - The Midrash speaks of a pearl which hung from the ark, and glowed night and day. I was concerned with more trivial matters - whether the rosette should be decorated or empty - I am taking votes (see video above for both examples). There should always be an opening for light to enter. Search out the light, and let it provide you with comfort. We are beings of light, but sometimes we need be reminded, from the outside.
Shavua Tov (a good week) to everyone. Feel free to be in touch via email, during my time away.
Rabbi Zach
Dear Friends,
After only a week in Jerusalem I miss our community dearly, but I have carried our holiday meditations with me, and I begin this note with just a few of the many saunterings that have already marked my journey.
I landed in Jerusalem with a few hours to waste away, before meeting someone at the apartment I was to rent. I thought I'd sit and do email at the airport, but a few minutes after finding a comfortable place, a cab driver convinced me that we could waste away the time at a cafe or the like. We hop in the car, and casually I say, if you have anything to do I'm happy to tag along - half jokingly. "Actually, I do have something, my vineyard ..." All of this in Hebrew and I follow most of it. Next thing I know we have veered off the road from Jerusalem into a massive vineyard, with no one else in sight. Yes, the beauty is stunning, but I am imaging this man is going to take all my money and leave me stranded. He tells me stories along the way of his homeland, Iran, and how he recently survived a fall from three stories and was healed by natural medicines. Shmuel.
We get out of the car and the vineyard is stunning; he tells me I am welcome to sit and do work on my computer, or come with him. When I see that he is completely serious - he has his clippers, two pairs, and garbage bags - that he is really getting ready to cut grapes, all of my anxiety flees, and I cannot believe the blessing I have stumbled into. We spent two hours in a vineyard at 7am, cutting grapes, telling stories, singing and laughing. This is how I arrived.
Last night, I went to hear the Baqashot (penitence prayers) at the Great Synagogue Ades - of the Glorious Aleppo community (Syrian Jews). I arrived at 3am and tried for a seat in the back of the already full house, but someone motioned firmly that it was reserved, for the singers or something. I ended up in one of the best seats in the house, near the front. The benches are facing in all directions, so you end up inside pocket minyanim within the larger congregation. The paytanim (singers) sit in the front pockets, on the outside benches facing inward - I sat facing them. The two front pockets lead the singing - and it is something of a sport, each team composed of 6-8 paytanim, the vocal lead passing from individual to the group back and forth side to side. The choreography in voice, the passing of the baton, happens almost seamlessly and when it doesn't there are grumblings and dirty looks. Over the course of the morning hours, I began to love my teammates. Amazing faces! A round bald man leading the way, his son with the sleek suit, his friend in a plaid short sleeve T; the one that went from sleeping to singing in no time, the bratzlaver with a beautiful boom - and my favorite voice - the old man. They would shush the kahal (community) every time he sang, because his voice is soft, but everyone yearned for his ornamentations, because they were the finest. I cannot describe this beauty. He had a great suit - grayish, with a bright blue shirt, and a yellow tie; he wore a small fedora, with a nice weave - he seamed upset that our side was quieter than theirs, but I liked this. They brought around sweet tea, on platters, and I watched the light turn from dark to day. The rabbi offered a fiery d'var Torah (teaching) at about 5am, just before mizmor shir leyom hashabbat. He spoke of being human, and the necessity to pay close heed to the movement in one's inner life. I enjoyed his words, and his tone. I left around 6:30am and roamed the streets of Jerusalem a bit, before heading home for a snack and a nap.
This week's torah portion tells the story of Noah, and the ark which he builds. I visited another ark builder this week, in the northern city of Nazareth - an oud maker, by the name of Hatem Jubran. You can see the ouds and the children he has made here.
As we sat and talked ouds, I thought about Noah's ark. The rabbis understand the imperative to build an ark, as a commandment to create a home for the spiritual self. We are each ark-builders, and I learned some lessons, from a true master.
"Make yourself an ark of cedar wood (6:14)" - Hatem the oud-man told me all about wood - how they've begun using rosewood, which is expensive and difficult to acquire now that the Indian government has taken control of rosewood manufacturing and export. He says it changes nothing, or very little, in the sound. He showed me the different wood qualities for the face - the wider the space between the grains, the cheaper the wood. The Midrash teaches that Noah planted cedar trees for 120 years; this wood would one day be the wood for the ark. Sometimes our spiritual work does not yield immediate fruit - in fact, the harvest will be reaped in the unforeseeable future, and the connection between cause and effect will remain unknown.
"With chambers you will make it, and you will cover it with pitch, within and without (6:14)" - We looked at insides more than outsides. He put an unfinished oud in my hands, and it was nothing but the empty belly, lacking a finishing coat and sticky on my fingers. But it was meticulously clean - no extra glue, dirt, or dust. All the other ouds in the workshop, present for repair, looked like garbage dumps in comparison. Remove everything but essences - we spoke about this over the New Year. The spiritual self resides in emptiness - do away with all excesses, be they oud-glue or of a different nature.
"Make a window for the ark (6:16)" - The Midrash speaks of a pearl which hung from the ark, and glowed night and day. I was concerned with more trivial matters - whether the rosette should be decorated or empty - I am taking votes (see video above for both examples). There should always be an opening for light to enter. Search out the light, and let it provide you with comfort. We are beings of light, but sometimes we need be reminded, from the outside.
Shavua Tov (a good week) to everyone. Feel free to be in touch via email, during my time away.
Rabbi Zach
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