And on another separate note, I had the chance to sing the unetaneh tokef in the teen services when I was a kid (maybe 14?) and the melody itself, plus the performance of it, made me shake--but I also remember feeling the power of this prayer as poetry, and it’s truth that can’t be ignored or denied. I felt they had entrusted me with this ... thing ... and I was so nervous about messing it up. Afterwords I was in a kind of weird mood, very cloudy and heady, and didn’t get why people were complimenting me.
Yes. Something I did not write about was what a young chazzan I knew when I was growing up said. He said the congregation shouldn't say all the words of u'netaneh tokef--just the good ones, and that the chazzan takes on the responsibility of saying words like "death" so that the congregation can just say "life". The seriousness of it all definitely makes a person shake!
I truly welcomed this wonderful article on "the most beautiful and terrifying and poetic prayers." It has held power and my heart for so many years, grounding and centering my spiritual experience on Yom Kippur and days before and beyond....so much so that I included it as my main character's "turning" experience in Reeni's Turn, my MG novel in verse for 9-12 year olds. For her, and for me, it is the call to listen—and then perhaps take steps she (and I) have been afraid to take. "Then these words:/ The great shofar is sounded,/a still, small voice is heard./My body quiet/the words shivered into my brain, heart, arms and legs/the way music does/deep inside where it sings out,Dance!/But instead of that,/these words whispered to me/Listen!" I shiver with the impact of U'Netaneh Tokef each year, and am grateful for this beautiful post before Yom Kippur. Gemar Tov—
My grandfather’s brother also had that job at Auschwitz, but he didn’t talk about his experience much until he was filmed as part of the shoah project. My father got the bare outline from him in Yiddish, when he came to NY from Argentina to attend my brother’s bar mitzvah. What they told me was that the purple circles under my great-uncle’s eyes were from chronic insomnia and nightmares. I’m going to write about him (and my grandfather) someday, but haven’t figured out how yet.
And on another separate note, I had the chance to sing the unetaneh tokef in the teen services when I was a kid (maybe 14?) and the melody itself, plus the performance of it, made me shake--but I also remember feeling the power of this prayer as poetry, and it’s truth that can’t be ignored or denied. I felt they had entrusted me with this ... thing ... and I was so nervous about messing it up. Afterwords I was in a kind of weird mood, very cloudy and heady, and didn’t get why people were complimenting me.
Yes. Something I did not write about was what a young chazzan I knew when I was growing up said. He said the congregation shouldn't say all the words of u'netaneh tokef--just the good ones, and that the chazzan takes on the responsibility of saying words like "death" so that the congregation can just say "life". The seriousness of it all definitely makes a person shake!
I truly welcomed this wonderful article on "the most beautiful and terrifying and poetic prayers." It has held power and my heart for so many years, grounding and centering my spiritual experience on Yom Kippur and days before and beyond....so much so that I included it as my main character's "turning" experience in Reeni's Turn, my MG novel in verse for 9-12 year olds. For her, and for me, it is the call to listen—and then perhaps take steps she (and I) have been afraid to take. "Then these words:/ The great shofar is sounded,/a still, small voice is heard./My body quiet/the words shivered into my brain, heart, arms and legs/the way music does/deep inside where it sings out,Dance!/But instead of that,/these words whispered to me/Listen!" I shiver with the impact of U'Netaneh Tokef each year, and am grateful for this beautiful post before Yom Kippur. Gemar Tov—
This is such a beautiful comment, Carol! And I understand the shivering. I wonder if authors are especially drawn to these lines....
My grandfather’s brother also had that job at Auschwitz, but he didn’t talk about his experience much until he was filmed as part of the shoah project. My father got the bare outline from him in Yiddish, when he came to NY from Argentina to attend my brother’s bar mitzvah. What they told me was that the purple circles under my great-uncle’s eyes were from chronic insomnia and nightmares. I’m going to write about him (and my grandfather) someday, but haven’t figured out how yet.
Wow. Silence was so often the response. It's so hard to talk about, and so hard to write about. The purple circles may be a way to start...