La La La

As part of my work at Memorial Sloan-Kettering, I am required to write weekly journal entries. For now at least, I'll also be posting them here. Enjoy.

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Among the wide array of twentieth-century arrangements and adaptations of traditional Jewish liturgies, one piece stands out in my mind as especially annoying.

The Mi Sheberach L’Cholim, a petitionary prayer asking God to heal the sick, is amongst a handful of prayers following a similar liturgical format: connecting God’s blessing of our ancestors to our need of blessing today. In the pro-English and anti-Hebrew furor of early twentieth century Liberal Judaism in America, it was relegated to the back pages of prayer books, if printed at all. Especially in Reform congregations, it was a text widely unknown and rarely employed.

And then came Debbie Friedman, a folk singer who revolutionized liberal American Judaism by returning prayer to “the people.” Her folk creations grew from the camping movement and attempted create an alternative to operatic liturgical solos.

Love it.

At least in theory...

She re-set the Mi Sheberach from it’s paragraph of Hebrew prose into a two-stanza, mostly-English song, replete with rhymes and “amens.” The endeavor was admirable - give Jews the power to pray for their own healing - but the content of the creation baffles me.

“May the Source of Strength, who blessed the ones before us, help us find the courage to make our lives a blessing...” Really? This isn’t what the prayer’s about. Is it?

And so, in quiet rebellion against the world around me, I have spent the last decade or so of my life, to as much an extent as possible, not singing Friedman’s adaptation of Mi Sheberach. Generally, my theology does not include a God intervenes in the health of individuals, especially based on the prevelence of prayers on the sick person’s behalf. But, more than that, I find the music of this version pediatric - an attempt to “dumb down” Judaism. So, like Nike wants of me, I just (don’t) do it.

And then, last Wednesday, I found myself entering the room of a patient for the first time. I was there to shadow a seasoned chaplain. But in the disorder of a hospital room unfit for four people, I was quickly shoved up to the front of the room, right next to the patient in his bed, in between him and his wife.

Never before had I been looked to in my life as a source of spiritual comfort in a time of sickness. Never before in my life had I even spoken to someone who was this ill, let alone terminal.

The patients eyes were yellowed from his failing liver; the weak handshake he offered demonstrated all of the force his frail body could muster.

I tried to take this virgin experience in as quickly as possible. What help could I provide this man and his upbeat wife? How did I feel, face to face with the such a real reality of death for the first time? Was my zipper zipped? Did I have a stain on my shirt? Did I remember to wash my hands before touching him?

And then, before I could even begin to answer the burning questions in my mind, the time to be a naive student ended, and I was called upon as a spiritual guide. I had little understanding of what was happening around me - who was this man? what was his ailment? what did I believe about all of this - and immediately, I was turned to as chaplain.

“Rabbi,” the wife said to the man I was supposed to be shadowing. “I’d like to sing a song. That would be nice. I really love that Debbie Friendman song. The mee shebeirach. Do you know it.”

Before I could even digest what had just happened, he answered with a quick, “No, I don’t. But do you, David?”

Gulp.

The beads of sweat ball on my palms; the instinctive disgust I feel towards the mere mention of that song builds as a find myself answering, “I do. And I’d love to sing it.”

Really? Did I actually say that?

And I began to sing. With the mumbled help of Hebrew-sounding syllables from the woman beside me, the words of that folk-bastardized-prayer-of-healing filled the room of a dying man. His wife shed tears mixed of joy and sadness, and I learned how, for that one moment of meaning-making on a Wednesday afternoon, to put aside my ego and knowledge of what is right and wrong, for the sake of bringing comfort to the afflicted.

We finished singing, said our goodbyes, and me and the rabbi left the room.

Walking down the hall towards the elevator, I laughed at the God to whom I had just, begrudgingly, prayed. Either He’s cruel, or has a great sense of humor.

Or maybe both.

Comments

[a friend]

Here you saw the power of Debbie's music -- the Mi Shebeyrach, but so many other of her songs, too. They are easily learned, easily remembered, and deeply, deeply moving to many.

While you disdain her reframing of the words of the original petition and call her version a "dumbing down," her work really deserves more of your respect. Her music is her ministry, and it is a valuable and important way of connecting to Judaism and God for many people.....

Have you ever seen her play live? It is a remarkable experience. She has an unparalleled ability to take our holy texts, our core writings and prayers -- which often seem literally and spiritually foreign to many of us -- and re-configure them in a way that resonates with a contemporary way of relating to Judaism. Her music is both modern and footed in tradition at the same time....her style may not be your taste, but David, you don't have to be a snob about it.....

Now that you've seen the power of her songs first-hand, perhaps you'll have a different perspective moving forward.

[David A.M. Wilensky]

I feel like laughing now is inappropriate. And yet.

[a friend]

to DAW -- huh?

[another friend]

To David: I have come to the conclusion that every once in a while Hashem needs his kicks and gets them at our (humans) expense.

To A Friend:
Yes, Debbie writes catchy melodies, they are easy to learn, and I'm sure provide comfort to many, that isn't really whats being debated.
Yes, her music is her ministry and is valuble in connecting to "God" for many people.

Unfortunately or fortunately depending on where you fall on the issues; Chabad and new-Lubuvitchers (Post Menachem Schneerson) also write catchy melodies that provide comfort and "connectability". The problem lies in that fact that they too are diluted and not authentic in its Jewish content. If you don't like a prayer because you can't connect to it...then don't say it, don't change the words and entire, or subtle meanings.

I suggest you buy Schwekey's albums and DVD's. You can see the power of his songs first-hand, perhaps you'll have a different perspective moving forward.

[Ben Z]

Surely at some point we must be completely and utterly excited that the ill Jew is still even interested in hearing an even remotely Jewish prayer (rather than just wallowing in pain and grief). The problem is much more a core issue and that is the education of Reform Jews. Yes, said excitement is a little disappointing, but the chance to ease a man's (and his wife's) pain with a "prayer" which includes Jewish themes and is also said in the synagogue? I am jumping with excitement over here.

If we want Jews to be more educated, it can't start on the death bed. So yes! Of course you REALLY JUST SAID THAT.

And as for "a friend"... I have seen her live. It was a horrid experience. She wasn't even a nice person. One day maybe, if we educate well enough, the Reform Jew will feel such a connection to more traditional texts. Until then... at least we have a starting place (and I suppose I get to thank good ole deb for that).

[BZ]

The second verse, "Bless those in need of healing with refu'ah sheleimah, a renewal of body, a renewal of spirit", is a fairly literal translation of הוא יברך וירפא את החולים ... רפואת הנפש ורפואת הגוף. This isn't a "dumbing down", as there aren't any more sophisticated ideas in the traditional version that are being missed, other than the fact that it's in Hebrew.

As for the first verse, "help us find the courage to make our lives a blessing" may not be in the original text, but is something that might actually be attained through prayer, unlike רפואת הגוף. That is, I share your reservations about mi shebeirach in general, but that's not Debbie Friedman's fault.