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“The Power of Silence”
04/14/2015 11:00:00 PM
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The UCLA department of Ethnomusicology has a new Chair in Jewish Music, endowed by a grant in the name of legendary Jewish performer Mickey Katz. This is a ground-breaking event, and the new chair's first occupant, Dr. Mark Kligman is already actively beginning to stimulate a Jewish music renaissance here in Los Angeles.
On Monday night, I attended the second in a series of public concerts which express the Jewish experience through a wide range of musical styles and ethnic influences. The program featured music inspired by the famous “Sarajevo Haggadah.” This remarkable illuminated manuscript was created in Barcelona, Spain around 1350 and has traveled the world, avoiding destruction at every turn as it was smuggled out of Spain in 1492, traveled to Italy, was hidden by a Muslin cleric in Zenika, and successfully avoided thieves, Nazis, and the ravages of time.
In Monday's performance, composer Merima Ključo's music, and a visual presentation of parts of the Sarajevo Haggadah by artist Bart Woodstrup, movingly juxtaposed the story of the Exodus with Ms. Kljuco's emotional journey as a survivor of the bloody four-year siege of Sarajevo. The music, played on accordion and piano, was alternately rousing, tender, melodic, cacophonous, and startlingly dynamic (thanks largely to the prepared-piano wizardry of pianist Seth Knopp). And it is in this dynamism that we come now to parashat Sh'mini.
Leviticus verses 10:1-3 contain one of the most disturbing incidents in the entire Torah. Aaron's sons Nadab and Avihu, either in their enthusiasm or willful disobedience, perform a holy act which is not ordained by God, and in return, “… fire came forth from the Lord and consumed them.” In response to this stunning and horrifying moment, Moses turns to Aaron and quotes the Lord saying, “Through those near to Me I show Myself holy, and gain glory before all the people.” And then the Torah improbably adds, “Vayidom Aharon” (“And Aaron was silent”). Aaron has given his faith and entire being to God, and now that same Lord has destroyed his beloved children in an explosion of wrathful flame. And he is silent?
The sages have debated this question for centuries, some claiming that Aaron tacitly accepted his sons' fate as the inevitable sign of God's justice; others such as Ramban, maintaining that Aaron was only silent after a predicable outcry of grief. But to me, Aaron's silence is purposeful and necessary.
I discovered this at Monday night's concert. It contained moments of shocking explosiveness followed by such profound quiet that all you could hear was the “breathing” of the accordion. After the program I asked the composer what her approach to the story was, how she could take a very “loud” narrative such as the Exodus and treat it at times with near silence. Her answer was very revealing, and seems to apply to Aaron's seemingly inexplicable response. She said that when you are surrounded by the chaos and terror of war, sometimes your reaction is to grow very very quiet on the inside. It is as if your natural instinct for survival dictates that you must turn in and away from the insurmountable noise and unfathomable reality of the physical world that surrounds you. It is a kind of escape, but also a great wellspring of strength.
In this way we can understand Aaron's silence as a kind of cognitive dissonance, by definition, “the mental stress or discomfort experienced by an individual who … is confronted by new information that conflicts with existing beliefs, ideas, or values.” In an instant, Aaron'sraison d'etre " his reason for being - is turned on its head. He retreats inside, unable to react to the moment, dumbstruck, incapable of any response. Like many innocent victims of war, Aaron is either in shock, or in that state of transformation that serves as a natural defense, and from which ultimate strength and healing are derived.
Well-conceived art can open our minds and help us to understand the otherwise inexpressible. I encourage you to attend some of the upcoming programs of the new UCLA Chair in Jewish Music.
For information, CLICK HERE to visit their website OR stop by my office.
Shabbat shalom.
Sat, December 28 2024
27 Kislev 5785