“The Soul Seeks Its Melodies”: Music in Jewish Thought 9798887190716

Table of contents :
Contents
Introduction
1 Methodological Aspects
2 Assessing the Role of Music
3 Music and the Jewish People
4 Music as a Tool
5 Toward Music as an Independent Field: Representation, Language, Dialogue
6 Music, Zionism, Religion
7 Summing Up
By Way of an Epilogue
Selected Bibliography
Index of Subjects
Index of Names and Works

Citation preview

“THE SOUL SEEKS ITS MELODIES” Music in Jewish Thought

Emunot: Jewish Philosophy and Kabbalah

Series Editor: Dov Schwartz (Bar-Ilan University, Ramat Gan)

Editorial Board: Ada Rapoport Albert, University College, London (d. 2020) Idit Dobbs-Weinstein, Vanderbilt University Gad Freudenthal, CNRS, Paris Gideon Freudenthal, Tel Aviv University, Ramat Aviv Moshe Idel, Hebrew University, Jerusalem Raphael Jospe, Bar-Ilan University, Ramat Gan Ephraim Kanarfogel, Yeshiva University, New York Menachem Kellner, Haifa University, Haifa Daniel Lasker, Ben Gurion University, Beer Sheva

“THE SOUL SEEKS ITS MELODIES” Music in Jewish Thought

Dov Schwartz Tr a n s l a t e d b y Batya Stein

BOSTON 2022

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022946293 Copyright © 2022 Academic Studies Press All rights reserved. ISBN 9798887190709 (hardback) ISBN 9798887190716 (Adobe pdf) ISBN 9798887190723 (epub) Book design by Lapiz Digital Services. Cover design by Ivan Grave. Published by Academic Studies Press. 1577 Beacon Street Brookline, MA 02446, USA [email protected] www.academicstudiespress.com

Contents

Introduction1   1. Methodological Aspects

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  2. Assessing the Role of Music

46

  3. Music and the Jewish People

91

  4. Music as a Tool 

132

  5. Music as an Independent Field: Representation, Language, Dialogue 184   6. Music, Zionism, Religion

238

  7. Summing Up

284

By Way of an Epilogue

295

Selected Bibliography

301

Index of Subjects 

307

Index of Names and Works 

311

Introduction Many texts on aesthetics speak of music as the “purest” and most abstract of all arts. And yet, music’s actual influence on the soul and on behavior can hardly be ignored. These characteristics of music have led religious leaders, mystics, doctors, psychologists, and magicians to enlist its advantages for their own needs. In this work, I consider such issues as: how did Jewish philosophers and religious mystics adopt the art of music over time? What did music convey and symbolize for them? These questions require us to address the course of a distinct aesthetic motif in Jewish thought, and this book deals with its manifestations and with the evolvement of music and the musical motif throughout its history. Writing one absolute and unequivocal intellectual history is an impossible task. In a series of works, I have tried to show how every motif or issue in Jewish thought creates its own independent history. For example, an attempt to write the history of medieval Jewish thought from a messianic perspective will lead to one account of the flow of ideas, while an attempt to do so from the perspective of astrology or of esoteric writing will lead to an entirely different one.1 Different writings of intellectual history are thus possible and can become a key to the development of a moderate deconstructionist approach. In this book, I examine the flow of ideas within Jewish thought in its attitude to music. The discussion adopts a substantive rather than a necessarily chronological pattern, classifying the manifestations of music in thought according to various aspects. The integration between music and religion has a rich past and diverse expressions.2 The encounter between music and Judaism is already evident in

1 See Dov Schwartz, Messianism in Medieval Jewish Thought, trans. Batya Stein (Boston: Academic Studies Press, 2017); idem, Studies on Astral Magic in Medieval Jewish Thought, trans. David Louvish and Batya Stein (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2005); idem, Contradiction and Concealment in Medieval Jewish Thought (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2002) [Heb]. For a discussion of this approach, see idem, “Is It Possible to Write a History of Jewish Thought?,” The Annual of Rabbinic Judaism 6 (2003): 285–300; and, in the same volume, see also Raphael Jospe, “A Response to Dov Schwartz,” 301–308; Robert Eisen, “New Horizons in the Study of Jewish Thought: A Response to Dov Schwartz,” 309–316; and Daniel J. Lasker, “The Canon of Medieval Jewish Philosophy: A Response to Dov Schwartz,” 317–328. See also Dov Schwartz, “Response,” 329–330. 2 See, for example, Lawrence Eugene Sullivan, ed., Enchanting Powers: Music in the World’s Religions (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1997).

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the most ancient texts, such as the Bible and the Apocrypha, and entails both practical and theoretical dimensions. Many ethnomusicological works and articles in various encyclopedias have considered musical traditions in the Jewish world, and philosophical texts relating to music have appeared in different contexts. All have focused on the disciplinary dimension of the study of musical traditions, although a systematic and phenomenological analysis of music’s standing in Jewish thought can hardly be found in the writings of thinkers and researchers. True, the musical motif can hardly be compared to motifs such as messianism, astrology, or magic—conceptual topics that led to stormy disputes at various times and whose centrality is unquestionable. Messianism and astrology, for example, are crucial issues in Jewish thought. Hardly any comprehensive religious treatise, be it from the Middle Ages or the modern period, fails to deal with messianism. Astrology has also played a significant role, at least in the discussions of medieval thinkers. Music is not in that category and, as Israel Adler notes, “there is no doubt that, contrary to their concern with other branches of knowledge, the interest of Jewish thinkers in music has only been marginal.”3 An analysis of the musical component’s role in Jewish thought, therefore, is meant to expose the paths of philosophical consciousness. In other words, I present a phenomenological analysis of Jewish thought where music is a distinct component of consciousness, but only one of several. Consciousness is not exhausted solely by its central moves; there are also marginal motifs that usually remain peripheral but may, at times, push forth to the center. Although music has not been a central motif in Jewish thought, it is one of its conscious components. Music was relegated to the sidelines for a variety of reasons. First, drawing away from music was perceived as a sign of mourning for the destruction of the Temple.4 Second, the creative and performative engagement with music was relatively rare in Jewish society. Third, religious music played a significant role in Christian ritual, leading to the banning of many musical pursuits. The polemical grappling of various thinkers with these facts will be my concern here. To some extent, the situation remains unchanged at present. Music as an aesthetic element is not a vital conceptual factor among Israeli philosophers and intellectuals. Philosophical writings on aesthetics in English and French do not usually address musical aspects in depth. Outstanding scholars of aesthetics and aesthetic philosophy focus mainly on the visual arts and

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Israel Adler, “Musicology and Jewish Studies,” Tatslil 11 (1980): 24 [Heb]. Amnon Shiloah, The Musical Legacy of Jewish Communities (Tel Aviv: Open University Press, 1985–1987), unit 4, 17–19 [Heb].

Introduction

literature as platforms for their studies. They do not discuss music, and their awareness of its basic concepts and of the foundations of musical theory appears questionable. By contrast, aesthetic studies in the German and Austrian tradition, for example, do usually include basic musical dimensions. The study of aesthetics in Israel, pursued by several distinguished scholars such as Dov Hertzenberg, Ruth Lorand, and Adi Tsemah, draws mainly on English and French sources and hardly ever discusses music. Scholars of Jewish thought are influenced in this regard by the research trend adopted in philosophy, and I find these circumstances disturbing. I will argue that a process at times characteristic of the history of ideas has nevertheless taken place. A motif that had been marginalized in the practical life of the Jewish world—evident in the limited scope of composition and melody—reawakened in the spiritual world. In religious Jewish thought, the musical motif appears quite often and, at times, reflects the character of thought itself. In Jewish philosophy and in Kabbalah, the presence of the musical motif is consistent and meaningful, and this book will trace these manifestations.

***** Several scholars have so far dealt with the history of Jewish music and with the place of music in Jewish texts in general. The significant work of scholars and musicologists such as Abraham Zvi Idelsohn, Eric Werner, Hanoch Avenary, Israel Adler, Don Harrán, Edwin Seroussi, and Eliyahu Schleiffer was limited to a historical description of Jewish music, to the exposure of musical texts in manuscripts and, at times, to the analysis of their conceptual aspects. Adler also systematically documented texts relating to music in his monumental work.5 He resolutely determined: “Musicology is indeed an interdisciplinary area par excellence.”6 These scholars, however, did not consistently relate to the presence of music in Jewish philosophical and mystical thought and did not exhaustively analyze this presence. Musicologists did occasionally show interest in conceptual aspects of music, but scholars of Jewish thought did not rise to the challenge. Karl Erich Grözinger published an important analysis of music in the

5 6

Israel Adler, RISM: Hebrew Writings concerning Music in Manuscripts and Printed Books: From Geonic Times Up to 1800 (Munich: G. Henle, 1975). Adler, “Musicology,” 21.

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theology of ancient Jewish literature,7 and, more recently, Kalman Bland discussed the visual aspect of Jewish thought.8 The musical aspect of systematic Jewish thought, however, has not drawn scholarly attention. Circumstances then changed mainly due to the work of two scholars— a Jewish thought expert, and a musicologist. Systematic discussions on the musical component in Jewish thought began to take shape in the studies of Moshe Idel, who deals with the musical element in two pioneering areas of his research—Abraham Abulafia’s thought and the paths of ecstatic Kabbalah, and magic as an element in Jewish thought. Idel engaged in a textual and cultural analysis of the musical component in Kabbalah and in magic. To some extent, Idel’s scattered but fruitful studies may be said to have laid the foundations for the discussions in the present book. Occasionally, works appeared on the topic of music and thought but, usually, did not resort to the disciplinary tools of Jewish philosophy. Since Idel’s initial studies, other scholars have also occasionally addressed the issue. Musicologist Amnon Shiloah dealt with cultural and philosophical aspects of Jewish musical traditions from a broad perspective, covering a great deal of material from a distinctly conceptual angle. He also expanded the work on material discovered by musicologists such as Idelsohn and Adler, and at times pointed to their traces in texts of Jewish thought. Shiloah devoted many studies to the formative period of medieval Jewish thought (from Saadia Gaon to Maimonides) and to a later one (until the expulsion from Spain), with the implications of his studies spreading far beyond the musicological knowledge he analyzed.9 Further works by scholars such as Harrán and Judith Cohen unfurl a broad panorama deeply connected to theoretical thought. Avner Bahat’s book includes a historical and thematic summary of the connections between Judaism and music.10

7 Karl Erich Grözinger, Musik und Gesang in der Theologie der frühen jüdischen Literatur: Talmud, Midrasch, Mystik (Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1982). 8 Kalman P. Bland, The Artless Jew: Medieval and Modern Affirmations and Denials of the Visual (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2001). 9 Several studies were collected in Amnon Shiloah, Music and Its Virtues in Islamic and Judaic Writings (Aldershot, Hampshire: Ashgate, 2007). Note also the units he wrote for the Open University course The Musical Legacy of Jewish Communities. For an abridged and updated edition of these units, see Amnon Shiloah, Jewish Musical Traditions (Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press, 1992). 10 Avner Bahat, Jewish Music: Introduction to its Treasures and Creators (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 2011) [Heb].

Introduction

In the present book, I will point to several trends in systematic Jewish thought throughout its history, touching on the standing of music. I intend to examine the standing of music, the evaluation of its importance, and its various manifestations as a theological and metaphysical component of Jewish thought.11 After posing a series of methodological questions in the first chapter, the next four chapters consider various trends that appeared in the writings of theologians, philosophers, and kabbalists. Chapter Two deals with changing evaluations of music in Jewish thought. Chapter Three examines the unique mark of the Jewish people in the consciousness of thinkers in the musical field. Chapter Four deals with the instrumental aspect of music as a tool for the attainment of religious and utilitarian ends. Chapter Five deals mainly with the perception of music as a cosmic, historical, and theological representation. Chapter Six addresses the standing of the musical motif in religious-Zionist thought, focusing on the thought of R. Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook. In this book, as noted, I mean to set an outline for the discussion without attempting to exhaust the subject. The original version of this book, which appeared in Hebrew, has been revised in the present translation, with some sections and chapters omitted.

***** It is my pleasant duty to thank many colleagues who enriched my ideas in the pursuit of this endeavor: Yehoyada Amir, Uriel Barak, Binyamin Bar-Tikvah, Gabriel Birenbaum, Tova Cohen, R. Yitzhak Erlanger, Shmuel Feiner, Gideon Freudenthal, Zeev Gries, Karl Erich Grözinger, Yehoash Hirshberg, Moshe Idel, Atarah Isaacson, Raphael Jospe, R. Abraham Nahshon, Avi Sagi, Daniel Schwartz, and Daniel Statman. For our long and continuous exchange, I thank Avi Ben-Amitai, who contributed with grace and subtle humor to the clarity of the formulations and the coherence of the arguments. Thanks to Batya Stein, who translated the book and with whom I shared the ideas presented here, for our ongoing dialogue and for coping so successfully with the challenge posed by the complex sources cited. I feel fortunate to have her as a partner. I am deeply grateful to all. 11 An article that was the basis for the discussion in the book is Dov Schwartz, “Music and Jewish Thought: Preliminary Notes,” in Garment and Core: Jews and Their Musical Experiences, ed. Eitan Avitsur, Marina Ritzarev, and Edwin Seroussi (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2012), 13–52 [Heb].

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Methodological Aspects Examining music’s standing in Jewish thought and tracing the course of the musical component in it requires a preliminary clarification of several methodological issues. Among them is the scope of the sources addressed (meaning the definition of the textual philosophical corpus serving as the basis of the study); the possible—or necessary—mutual connections between philosophy and music; the research approach to the corpus and to these connections, and its hermeneutical implications. In this chapter, I begin by determining the scope of the corpus, move on to the hermeneutical aspects of the musical component in Jewish thought, and conclude with a series of interfacing issues.

Thought An attempt to deal with the musical component of Jewish thought needs to deal both with the very definition of this field and with the relationship between its conceptual elements (such as music) and the philosophical whole. I begin with some brief remarks on the definition of Jewish thought and move on to consider the place of music within the borders of this definition.

Jewish Thought Given that this book does not focus on a specific period and addresses a corpus created over centuries, its scope needs to be demarcated. The term Jewish thought is hard to define clearly, as is also the place and standing of conceptual components within it. I begin with the term itself and wish to clarify at the start that, usually, references are to systematic Jewish thought that, as shown below, first appears in the Middle Ages.

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Consider the two components—systematic and Jewish. For my current purpose, I define systematic thought as one that involves an orderly presentation of issues and conceptual questions and grapples with them consistently. Systematic thought takes one or more specific issues (God’s attributes or divine providence), reviews its problematic dimensions, and tries to clarify it in the light of conceptual, textual, and other traditions. Systematic thought need not appear as a monograph and can also be conveyed in commentaries of previous sources. Usually, this thought is not found in biblical, tannaitic, and amoraic sources, or in the Apocrypha. The accepted assumption in the research literature is that, in the Jewish world, systematic thought began approximately in the tenth century with The Book of Beliefs and Opinions by Saadia Gaon and in his surroundings. What typifies Jewish thought? This question is far more complex than the previous one and, in attempting an answer, negative characteristics appear to be more useful than positive ones: 1)  Content is not an unequivocal characteristic because, in many periods, the content of Jewish thought is largely a version of scientific, philosophical, and aesthetic conceptions prevalent in the Gentile surroundings. For example, the long description of the human soul and its powers in Part Five of The Kuzari by Judah Halevi (c. 1075–1141) relies on a treatise by the well-known Muslim philosopher ibn Sina. Yitzhak ibn Latif and Shem-Tov Falaquera (thirteenth century) integrated into their works (respectively, Sha`ar ha-Shamayim and Moreh ha-Moreh) translations of entire chapters from books by Abû Nasr al-Fârâbî. In the late Middle Ages, copies of many classic philosophical works become an integral component of Byzantine Jewish thought. More than a few scientific works are versions of classic scientific writings. 2)  Form, meaning the conceptual exegesis of Jewish texts is not a defining feature either. Many canonic Jewish texts (for example, Mekor Chayyim by Shlomo ibn Gabirol and The Guide of the Perplexed by Maimonides, which deeply influenced medieval Christian thought) inspired commentaries by non-Jewish thinkers that did not become part of Jewish thought. My reference here is not only to ancient sources such as Scripture, which were interpreted by Christians as well. In the fourteenth century, Jews such as Moshe Narboni interpreted treatises by the Muslim philosophers Al-Ghazali and Averroes and, at the time of the Haskalah, Yitzhak Satanov wrote a sequential interpretation of Aristotle’s Ethics (1790).

Methodological Aspects

3) The thinker’s identity is not a criterion either. Jews wrote philosophical works that have no (direct or proven) connection to Judaism, while Jewish thinkers ceaselessly referred to works by non-Jewish thinkers. Works such as Mekor Chayyim by Shlomo ibn Gabirol, A Treatise as to Necessary Existence by Yosef ben Yehuda (twelfth century), many commentaries on Averroes’s writings by Jewish thinkers (mainly in the fourteenth century, such as Gersonides, Yedayah ha-Penini, Moshe Narboni, and more), Phaedo by Moses Mendelssohn (1729–1786), and The Logic of Pure Knowledge by Hermann Cohen (1842–1918) could have been written by non-Jews. One may cautiously argue that Jewish thought is characterized by at least one of two positive characteristics, as follows: 1) a special interpretation; 2) a context of reference. The special interpretation characteristic splits into three—the first two absolute and always valid, and the third relative. a) Jewish thought is characterized by references to canonic texts or to their contents. b) References are characterized by an inner order (the determination of basic assumptions and coordinates, some cohesiveness, adherence to the flow of a specific text, and so forth). c) Jewish thought is characterized by its acceptance of revelation as authoritative, by the texts it cites, and by a tradition of commands transmitted through it. The Oral Law is, to some extent, an interpretive key to this authority and, until the end of the eighteenth century, almost generally valid regarding rabbinic thought. Movements such as Karaism, Sabbateanism, and many individuals who were part of the early Haskalah movement rejected this principle, either partly or entirely. Context has a dual meaning. a) The first aspect is reference, either through discussion or through criticism, to the contemporary Jewish environment. For example, Abraham ibn Daud (twelfth century) attacked the book Mekor Chayyim because he held that it misleads the Jewish people. The works of Benedict

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de Spinoza (1632–1677), and particularly the Tractatus TheologicoPoliticus, have been discussed as integral elements of modern Jewish thought and their pertinence to it, beyond their place in philosophy in general, cannot be ignored. b) Continuity, meaning some reference to the work in later sources, also determines a link to the milieu. For example, Philo of Alexandria is indeed not a factor in medieval Jewish thought since he wrote in Greek, which most people at the time did not understand but, from the Renaissance onward, he enters the Jewish philosophical discourse. Let us return to the interpretation characteristic. Philosophical interpretation is open and includes many options and modes of reading texts. A positive attempt to limit and narrow the definition of what constitutes Jewish thought could lead one to miss out on the wealth and dynamic of the conceptual reality. The location and mapping of philosophical elements, such as music, can also be interpreted in many and diverse ways and should therefore be approached with an open mind. The characteristics noted, as well as others, are discussed at length in works dealing with the history of Jewish thought.1

Music and the Definition of Jewish Thought Most of the questions concerning Jewish thought in general are also pertinent to its components, such as music. Consider some of them: 1) Is it possible to define a particular conception of music in the thought of a Jewish philosopher or kabbalist as a “Jewish” conception? 2) Does music’s influence on a Jewish thinker turn it into a “Jewish” component? 3) Does a random statement about music turn it into a component of a philosophical system? 4) Does a cultural-musical climate imply an influence on thought?

1

See, for example, Eliezer Schweid, Feeling and Speculation (Ramat-Gan: Massada, 1980), 12–36 [Heb]; Raphael Jospe, What Is Jewish Philosophy? (Tel Aviv: Open University Press, 1988). Among the scholars who have set up comprehensive models of the history of Jewish philosophy, note Harry Austryn Wolfson, Isaac Husik, Julius Guttmann, and Colette Sirat. Similar problems are also evident in other religious philosophies. See, for example, C. F. J. Martin, An Introduction to Medieval Philosophy (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1996).

Methodological Aspects

Some ethnomusicologists question the very definition of Jewish music, and here too opinions are divided on the nature of its connection to liturgical traditions (cantillation, liturgical poetry, cantorial music, and so forth) on the one hand, and to folk songs (which are often influenced by the Gentile surroundings) on the other, or only to one of them. My concern here is only the philosophical and mystical value of music. An example will serve to illustrate these questions. The standing of music in the leisure culture of Muslim and Christian society in medieval Spain certainly influenced Jewish society, be it positively or negatively. Secular poetry was, to begin with, meant for the pleasure of listening. The text was less important in this poetry than in the piyyut, where most of the attention focused on the words, and the melody was secondary. By contrast, melodies in secular poems were highly significant, with the musical dimension playing a major role in the shaping of this poetry.2 Does the standing of secular poetry in Jewish society turn music into an important cultural element for thinkers and intellectuals as well? Furthermore, Muslim views of music largely shaped the attitude toward it in medieval Jewish thought.3 Does the adoption of the Muslim approach toward music and its reliance on Jewish sources make it “Jewish”? One possible characteristic of Jewish thought is, as noted, a reference to religion or religious texts. Even if the Jewish thought is secular, Reform, national, or other, the context of the reference is religion (its rituals, symbols, texts, and so forth). As an element of Jewish thought, therefore, music cannot be entirely independent. This type of research differs from the historical study of musical and ethnomusical traditions, which includes comparative research (for example, Johann Sebastian Bach vis-à-vis Antonio Vivaldi and Heinrich Schütz), or an analysis of inspiration sources (such as the influence of the Turkish makam on the musical tradition of Jews in the Ottoman empire, which Edwin Seroussi studied in depth).4 The study of the musical component in Jewish philosophy and mysticism must resort to the tools used in the research of Jewish thought.

2 3

4

See, for example, Yehuda Ratzabi, “Traces of Meter in the Melodies of Sephardic Piyyutim,” in Piyyut in Tradition, vol. 1, ed. Binyamin Bar-Tikva and Ephraim Hazan (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 1996), 48 [Heb]. See, for example, Jean-Claude Chabrier, “Musical Science,” in Encyclopedia of the History of Arabic Science, vol. 2, ed. Roshdi Rashed (London: Routledge, 1996), 581–611; Amnon Shiloah, Music in the World of Islam: A Socio-Cultural Study (Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press, 1995), 45–67. Edwin Seroussi, “The Turkish Makam in the Musical Culture of Ottoman Jews: Sources and Examples,” Israel Studies in Musicology 5 (1990): 43–68.

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When music appears in Jewish thought, even if it is highly appreciated and strives to be considered an independent factor, it is almost invariably related to religion or to religious texts. We have so far discussed the influence of music or its manifestation as a motif in the text. Can the opposite vector of influence be estimated, that is, the effect of the text on the music or its reflection in it? The connection between text and music interested Mordechai Breuer, who wrote on the study of Hasidic music, “We must consider the parallel and the correspondence between musical concepts and religious, psychological, and philosophical concepts. How are, for example, commitment, enthusiasm, mystery, effusiveness, and wonder, conveyed in Hasidic music?”5 Abstract ideas have certainly contributed to musical composition no less than creative moods. The troublesome question is whether and to what extent can this contribution be estimated—can the musicologist and the philosopher meet midway? In the present discussion on the role of the musical motif in Jewish thought, it is the textual element that largely determines the approaches and the topics of concern. The musical instruments mentioned in the sources, for example, are considered in various ways in Jewish thought, a theme discussed below. The lyre, the harp, the flute, the tambourine, and others reflect and symbolize various conceptual motifs, while other instruments are marginalized. Instruments directly identified with the Christian ritual are usually absent from Jewish thought or appear in negative contexts. To some extent, interpretations of these instruments’ meaning attest to a philosophical approach, with the instruments serving only as illustrations. The musical discussion, however, may arise in contexts that, textually, are not distinctly sacred, such as the place of music in the order of the sciences. These issues are discussed at length in the book.

Interpretation Tracing the evolvement of a motif within a philosophical context raises a series of hermeneutical questions. These questions become even more significant when the connection to the text is dominant. The discussion below seeks to clarify several hermeneutical dimensions that emerge from the musical aspect of Jewish thought. In the context of the hermeneutical discussion, I will also address the phenomenological framework of this book.

5

Mordechai Breuer, “Problems and Approaches to the Study of Hasidic Music,” Dukhan 4 (1963): 45 [Heb].

Methodological Aspects

From the Component to the Flow The standing and meaning of music have occupied many scholars of hermeneutics. Umberto Eco pointed out that music is a semiotic system, that is, a series of symbols that have a syntax. Its standing, however, is complex and problematic. On the one hand, music denotes a system of symbols without meaning or content, and on the other, music has “signs” with a clear denotation, such as trumpet blows in the army.6 Hans Georg Gadamer (1900–2002) discussed musical performance. In the preface to the second edition of Truth and Method, he notes that, although interpretation takes many forms in varied areas, he tends to view it as an approach to the study of culture that is marked by systematic uniform features. Gadamer notes that musical performance, which is an interpretation of a specific musical score, differs from the interpretation of a visual work or of poetry.7 Other scholars discuss the role of performance in the shaping of the work per se,8 an issue that is more pronounced in Eastern Sephardic music and piyyut where improvisation is a key element. A musical performance is the hermeneutical product of a culture and I claim that the musical element in abstract thought, when present, is also a hermeneutical product. In other words, the thinker’s use of the musical motif to convey an idea is a perception of music as a hermeneutical act. The analysis of the musical component in Jewish thought confronts us with the hermeneutical circle problem. To understand the place of the musical component, we must understand the entire philosophical context. The component, however, is one of its building blocks, and understanding the context is contingent on understanding its elements. The hermeneutical circle does indeed increase the importance of studying the musical element when attempting to understand the philosophical and mystical situation. Since this element is often symbolic (music represents various conceptual elements) or instrumental (helpful for concentration, for commitment to the spiritual world, and so forth), it cannot be detached from the context.

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Umberto Eco, A Theory of Semiotics (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1977), 10–11, 88. Kenneth Baynes, James Bohman, and Thomas McCarthy, eds., After Philosophy: End or Transformation? (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1987), 343. Poetry itself has a musical dimension. See Hillel Barzel, New Interpretations of Literary Text: From Theory to Method (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 1990), 69 [Heb]. See also Ezra Fleischer’s reference to Judah Halevi’s poetry (see below, 27). See, for example, Thomas Carson Mark, “On Works of Virtuosity,” The Journal of Philosophy 77 (1980): 28–45.

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The hermeneutical circle notion is particularly important for an element that, though not central, does appear in various systems of thought. Music was often on the margins of Jewish thought. My perspective on thought, therefore, is internal. The musical motif, rather than as an element external to philosophical thought, is examined within it and from it. Studying this motif, therefore, adds to the understanding of philosophical and mystical circumstances in Jewish thought. Music, moreover, has always been a trait of human culture—be it as a religious feature, as a functional one (fulfilling medical, utilitarian, or other needs), or as a characteristic of “secular” leisure patterns. Music is an element in the milieu. A cultural-hermeneutical-cultural note is required here. Since the separation between thinkers and their cultural milieu is problematic and even artificial, the musical component serves as an expression and a reflection of individuals as products and interpreters of their surroundings. Analysis of the musical element can thus explain the thought in general. In a way, my starting point is reminiscent of avant-garde theory—I assume that music reflects practical life. The literary critic Peter Bürger presented a historical typology of art that split it into sacral art, courtly art, and bourgeois art (which is the “objectification of the self-understanding of the bourgeois class”).9 The avant-garde criticized art’s distance from praxis in bourgeois society,10 and some avant-garde theorists tried to establish a new praxis based on art. I argue that the historical manifestations of the musical component in abstract thought also function as (indeed modest) shapers of a philosophical environment. My claim is the following: 1) music reflects practical life and molds it; 2) thought reflects practical life and molds it; 3) music is a specific component of thought; therefore: 4) the musical component in thought reflects practical life and molds it. A claim that can justifiably be raised in this context is that applying this argument to Jewish thought is problematic because music is usually not one of its key components. According to the principles of structuralist hermeneutics, however, even components that are not dominant mark the option of an inner alternative reading of the text. Peter Bürger, Theory of the Avant-Garde, trans. Michael Shaw (Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 1984), 47. 10 Ibid., 49. 9

Methodological Aspects

Tracing the course of the philosophical and musical components of consciousness over time reflects an assumption about the text as containing inner meanings and dynamics that are conveyed through these components. I assume that an analysis of this component’s progression brings to the surface the text’s inner dimensions. Sigmund Freud (1856–1939) saw illusions as expressing the “truth” of the patient’s personality. Martin Heidegger (1889–1976) delved into the history of philosophy because he held that ideas reveal the non-authentic dimension of existence.11 The clarification of this dimension helps to expose the authenticity of existence. Tracing the course of the musical motif, then, largely reflects the conceptual leanings of Jewish thought or, in other words, its “truth” or “truths.” Hence, an element that is not central but derives from its inner fabric, may reveal the authentic character of Jewish thought. This type of approach is also evident in the hermeneutical techniques used in Jewish esoteric literature, which flourished in the Middle Ages. The writing style imbued with double and hidden messages reflects the communication pattern widespread in religious thought from the beginning of the twelfth century onward. Several thinkers tried to locate the mystery hiding in the text in random allusions. One example of this approach is the handling of Creation in The Guide of the Perplexed. Maimonides devoted about thirty consecutive chapters to Creation in Part Two, while many students and commentators sought Maimonides’ authentic view in casual mentions of Creation in other chapters of The Guide.12 Similarly, although the musical component is often on the margins of philosophical consciousness, it could point to its general course and its dynamic.

Two Layers Jewish thought itself is formulated at times as a philosophical or mystical interpretation of certain sources. In the musical realm, we encounter paradigms of biblical figures (such as Jubal, King David, and Samuel),13 and Jewish thought

11 William B. Macomber, The Anatomy of Disillusion: Martin Heidegger’s Notion of Truth (Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 1967), 135. 12 On such an interpretation in the fourteenth century, see Dov Schwartz, The Philosophy of a Fourteenth-Century Jewish Neoplatonic Circle ( Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1996), 82–83 [Heb]. 13 According to I Chronicles 9:22, David and Samuel arranged the Levites’ gate-keeping. See, for example, Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, vol. 12 (New Haven, CO: Yale University Press, 1957), Laws Concerning Vessels of the Sanctuary and Those Who Minister Therein, 3:9.

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offers an interpretation of their musical associations. Texts such as the Book of Psalms and Song of Songs were perceived as a platform for musical performance. Exegetes of Song of Songs did at times focus on the poetry without addressing the musical side. One example is the discussion of the well-known biblical exegete Meir Leibush Wisser, known as Malbim (1809–1879), in He-Harash ve-ha-Masger (“the craftsman and the smith,” a phrase from II Kings 24:14), an excursus he added to his commentary on Song of Songs. But the Book of Psalms, which mentions many musical instruments and whose chapters are called mizmorim (from the Hebrew root z-m-r, meaning “song,” “to sing”), compelled many commentators to address the musical dimension.14 Musical figures or instruments (trumpet, lyre, timbrels, harp, pipe, horn, and drums) that, as noted above, are associated with music in the Bible, have been the object of lively commentary. Batya Bayer, an expert in ancient musicology, notes: “How rich is Scripture in musical testimonies, that is, in descriptions of various sound experiences, each one and its special terms.”15 Besides biblical literature, talmudic and midrashic literature used music extensively as a metaphor, describing divine revelation and its expressions in terms of song and melody.16 Just as many biblical sources were the basis for later commentaries, a series of talmudic aggadot became sources for commentary and for the development of the conceptual component. The philosophical and kabbalistic interpretation of Aggadah evoked great interest in Jewish thought over generations. One example is the widespread series of aggadot relating to the lyre, the instrument most often mentioned in Scripture. Symbolic meanings have long been pinned on musical instruments according to their sounds

Since the Levites’ task is to sing, Samuel is also mentioned regarding music. The issue of the Levites’ singing and the divisions were tied together in BT Ta`anit 27b, and appears explicitly in Midrash Tanchuma: “Let our master instruct us: How many strings were on the harp which the Levites played? . . . And who ordained them? Samuel and David. It is so stated (in I Chronicles 9:22) “David and Samuel the Seer ordained them in their office of trust.” Moreover, they were the ones who set up the divisions for singing. Now the Levites would stand on their platform and sing before the one who spoke for the world to come into being.” Midrash Tanhuma, vol. 3, trans. John T. Townsend ( Jersey City, NY: Ktav, 2003), Beha`alotkha 3.12, 79, and, similarly, Numbers Rabba 15:11. Judah Halevi, The Kuzari mentions King David and Samuel together as having dealt with music. See below, 100 and ff. 14 See, at length, Uriel Simon, Four Approaches to the Book of Psalms: From Saadia Gaon to Abraham ibn Ezra, trans. Lenn J. Schramm (Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1991), index, under “music, musicology.” 15 Batya Bayer, “Including Religious Music in the Teaching of Jewish Subjects and the Humanities,” Dukhan 2 (1961): 36 [Heb]. 16 See, at length, Jacob Neusner, Judaism’s Theological Voice: The Melody of the Talmud (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995). On Neusner’s approach, see below, 228–233.

Methodological Aspects

and their shape. I present now two well-known aggadot on the lyre and briefly illustrate the subsequent commentaries on them: A lyre [kinor] hung [talui]17 over David’s bed,18 and as soon as midnight arrived [ba],19 a northerly wind blew [noshevet bo]20 upon its strings and caused it to play of its own accord. David would immediately [mi-yad hayiah]21 stand 22 and studied Torah until the break [she-`alah]23 of dawn.24

R. Judah says, The lyre in our time has seven strings,25 as it is said, “In thy presence there is fullness of joy” (Psalms 16:11). In the time of the Messiah, it will have eight,26 as it is said, “To the choirmaster: upon an eight-stringed lyre” (Psalms 12:1). And in the future that will come,27 [it will have] ten,28 as it is said, “Praise the Lord with the lyre, make melody to him with the harp of ten strings” (Psalms 33:2).29 The first source is extensively discussed in the exegetical and research literature and became the paradigm of an aggadic source shaping different concep-

17 In Babylonian Talmud Manuscript Munich Codex Hebraicus 95 (henceforth, Munich MS), talui lo. 18 In the parallel version in the Palestinian Talmud—“against his windows.” 19 In Munich MS, bat. 20 In the parallel version in the Palestinian Talmud—u-menafnefet bo. 21 Hayiah is not in the Munich MS. 22 According to Munich MS. 23 In Munich MS, she-ya`aleh. 24 BT Berakhot 3b; BT Sanhedrin 16a. See PT Berakhot 1:1 (2d). 25 BT Arakhin 13b, “The harp of the Sanctuary had seven chords.” 26 An eight-stringed instrument appears in a fresco of the Egyptian period that is parallel to the era of the patriarchs. See Batya Bayer, “The Biblical Harp in Light of Archeological Findings,” Dukhan 5 (1964): 115 [Heb]. 27 The parallel version in the Babylonian Talmud reads: “of the world to come.” 28 Flavius Josephus Online, Judean Antiquities, trans. William Whiston (Leiden: Brill Online Reference Works, n.y.), book 7, 12.3, notes that harps have ten strings. See Abraham Z. Idelsohn, Jewish Music: Its Historical Development (New York: Dover, 1992 [1929]), 8; J. Kühn, Music in Scripture, Talmud, and Kabbalah (Vienna: Kühn, 1930), 53 [Heb]. 29 Tosefta Arakhin 2:7, Zuckermandel ed., 544. See BT Arakhin 13b and parallel versions in the midrashim. See also the analysis of Karl E. Grözinger, Musik und Gesang in der Theologie der frühen jüdischen Literatur: Talmud, Midrasch, Mystik (Tübingen: J. C. B. Möhr, 1982), 222–223.

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tions of music. The Renaissance Italian thinker Judah Moscato (c. 1530–1590) devoted the first homily in Nefotsot Yehuda to an interpretation of this aggadah. This homily, which he called Higayon be-Khinor [The melody of the lyre], is discussed below. The aggadah at times led some thinkers to compare the human body to a lyre, which is also empty and ruled by the spirit.30 Thinkers found the aggadah in BT Berakhot intriguing on several counts: 1) The nature of the miracle in the self-playing lyre. 2) The relationship between the north motif and automatic playing. 3) The lyre’s modes of functioning—noting the time, serving as a learning aid, and so forth. Several kabbalists ascribed the lyre’s self-produced melody to the harsh negative forces in the world. They referred to these forces as din, gevurah (the divine force of stern judgment), sitra achra, and so forth. In this reading, the sounds made by David’s lyre dispelled these forces, meaning that a musical instrument acted to prevent the spread of the negative emanation or the depressing temperament of the powers of din.31 This aggadah is among the sources of the tikkun chatsot practice.32 An interesting attempt to grapple with some of the issues tied to this aggadah is the claim of Abraham Dov Dubsewitz (1843–1900), a maskil from Pinsk, who argued that the version in the Palestinian Talmud, claiming that the sounds of the lyre had been meant to awaken King David, was preferable. The lyre, then, did not produce a melody and there was no miracle here. Dubsewitz used the Palestinian Talmud’s version following the principle stating: “As for sayings and stories appearing in various forms, adopt the plain one, hold on to it, and do

30 Amnon Shiloah, The Musical Legacy of Jewish Communities (Tel Aviv: Open University, 1985–1987), unit 8, 26 [Heb]. 31 See, for example, the commentary of Shalom Buzaglo (active in Morocco in the eighteenth century) on Tikkunei Zohar: “When the melody comes from the left side, David’s harp plays to stir joy” (Kise Melekh [Amsterdam, 1769], 35b). 32 See Samuel Stern, Poetry and Melody in the Worship of God ( Jerusalem: Machon Lev Bratslav, 2006), 58–74 [Heb], which includes sources on the harp in the philosophical literature. The book by Stern, a Bratslav Hasid, has three parts: Shir Binah (Song of understanding, 1994), Shirat ha-Lev (Song of the heart, 1997) and the booklet Va-Any Rofe Otah (And I heal her, 2003). Stern provides in this work an impressive collection of sources on music, but his approach is based mainly on the teachings of Nachman of Bratslav, and his conclusions often do not follow from the ancient sources he cites (rabbinic homilies, Zohar literature, and so forth). On his interpretation of the harp aggadah, see below.

Methodological Aspects

not give up.”33 The symbolic mystical interpretation, on the one hand, and the natural interpretation, on the other, reflect a range of possible understandings of this aggadic text. Moreover, the issues considered above encouraged scholars to expose views on the role of music in the surrounding cultures in connection with the aggadah about the self-playing lyre.34 The second source encouraged a numerological interpretation such as the one that presented the strings as hinting at the ten sefirot. The seven lower ones are visible in the present while the sefirot of da`at (“the eighth string”), chokhmah, and binah (“ten strings”) will be revealed in the future.35 In both sources, as noted, the lyre appears as a leitmotif, and it would later be perceived as such in systematic Jewish thought as well. The second source, however, provides information about the physical shape of the instrument, that is, about the number of strings. The biblical instrument is probably an Egyptian lyre, a string instrument resembling a small harp (sitar).36 Many exegetes, at various times, obviously identified a kinor with musical instruments familiar to them. The tanna R. Judah identified it with a seven-stringed instrument. Saadia Gaon (882–942), for example, identified it with the sytar and the tambourine, a four-stringed strumming instrument.37 Medieval exegetes who adopted a literal approach identified the shminit as an eight-stringed musical instrument.38 R. Zvi Yehuda Berlin (ha-Netsiv) of Volozhin (1816–1893) may have identified the kinor with the modern strumming or bowed string instrument when he wrote: “As for both these instruments [lyre and pipe]—they are interchangeable. The lyre is better suited for rest and sleep, and the pipe is the

33 Abraham Dov Dubsewitz, Sefer ha-Mitsraf (Odessa: Beilinson, 1871), 2 [Heb]. 34 Elimelech Halevi, Aggadic Passages Considering Greek Sources (Tel Aviv: Armoni, 1973), 393–397 [Heb]. 35 Stern, Poetry and Melody, Shir Binah, 98–99. 36 For discussions relying on archeological evidence about the biblical harp, see Bayer, “The Biblical Harp,” 109–121; Z. Meshel, “The Painting of the Harp Player in Kuntilat Adjaroud in Sinai,” Tatslil 9 (1977): 109–110 [Heb]; Joachim Braun, Music in Ancient Israel/Palestine: Archeological, Written, and Comparative Sources, trans. Douglas W. Stott (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Erdmans, 2002), 16–19. For instruments in the talmudic period (flute, symphonia, horn, and harp) see Daniel Sperber, Material Culture in Erets Yisrael during the Talmudic Period, vol. 2 (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2006), 87–113 [Heb]. 37 Yehuda Ratzabi, A Dictionary of Judaeo-Arabic in R. Saadya’s Tafsir (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 1985), 96 (under “tambourine”) and 112 (under “sitar”) [Heb]. See also the comments of Yosef Kafih, trans., R. Saadia Gaon’s Commentary on the Torah ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1963), 18 [Heb]. 38 See Simon, Four Approaches, 216–217.

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opposite—it thunders.”39 Some thinkers have openly admitted that we cannot precisely identify the actual biblical instruments.40 In any event, the symbolism that the tannaim ascribed to the number of strings in the biblical kinor (seven, eight, and ten—respectively, the present, the messianic era, and the world to come) is intriguing. In the Islamic world, scholars ascribed vast significance to the four strings of the oud (for example, a parallel to the four elements and the four humors).41 The symbolism of the number of strings in the kinor has been discussed at length by philosophers, mystics, and exegetes of Aggadah, and I address their interpretations below.42 Other series of talmudic aggadot relate to additional musical issues, such as biblical hymns,43 the singing and playing of the Levites,44 and so forth. In tracing the historical course of the musical component in Jewish thought, I attempt to offer a (scholarly) interpretation of interpretive moves that, by nature, are philosophical or mystical. I try to examine the foundations of Jewish philosophical and mystical consciousness in light of the scattered interpretations to present a flowchart of its ideas. The study of religious consciousness is, in many respects, an interpretation of a given interpretation. The attempt to trace the course of these ideas in connection with their musical components can thus be viewed as a double interpretation: an interpretation of the evolvement of ideas that, largely, are themselves interpretations of canonical texts.

Symbolization: (1) Principles How does the musical component function within abstract philosophical religious thought? Music sometimes made its way into the philosophical

39 Naphtali Zvi Yehuda Berlin (ha-Netsiv), Ha`amek Davar (Vilnius, 1879), 20a, on Genesis 4:21. In the preface to his commentary on the Torah, ha-Netsiv compared the Torah to poetry in the wake of rabbinic statements, and elaborated on the implications of this comparison. 40 According to Abraham ibn Ezra (see below, 109, note 85). Yosef Hayyun (fifteenth century) noted about the instruments mentioned in psalms: “we cannot fully know their nature.” Cited in Abraham Gross, R. Yosef ben Abraham Hayyun: Leader of the Lisbon Community and his Literary Work (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 1993), 176 [Heb]. 41 Shiloah, Music in the World of Islam, 51–52. 42 See below, 195–199. 43 See, for example, Abraham Epstein, Antiquities of the Jews: Studies and Notes, vol. 2 ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1957), 251–254 [Heb]. 44 See, for example, BT Arakhin 11a; Genesis Rabba 57:6.

Methodological Aspects

discussion because of its symbolism. Robert Wilkinson pointed to three approaches dealing with music and feelings: 1) Music is a language of feelings (Derek Kook, 1919–1976). According to this approach, the various modes through which musical constructs evoke feelings are traceable. Sounds and their flow have an emotional character and can be translated into feelings.45 2) Music symbolizes feelings (Susan Langer, 1895–1985). This view claims that, in Kantian terms, the symbol is the tool through which knowledge processes the datum. Symbols split into two groups: discursive symbols, which are continuous and consistent and abide by the characteristics of language (syntax and vocabulary), and representative symbols, which do not abide by these characteristics and are intelligible only within a context. Music is a representative symbol. 3) Music does not depend on feelings since feelings are external to it (Edward Hanslick, 1825–1904). Contrary to the previous approaches, which dealt with music’s connection to outside constructs, this approach claims that the aesthetic value of music is autonomous.46 Religious thought could not, nor did it want to, ignore the crucial influence of music on feelings. Over time, the musical motif came to be perceived as a symbol of the moods associated with the routine of religious life. The transition to the religious approach brings us to a three-stage construct, which to some extent parallels the approaches presented above: 1)  service—the musical component serves the moods of religious consciousness; 2)  symbolization—the musical component symbolizes the values of religious consciousness; 3) autonomy—the musical component is an autonomous religious value. In the first stage, then, music assists the religious ritual and becomes an instrumental and functional component of ongoing religious life. Musical performance in particular is enlisted in the service of religion and the fulfillment of 45 The notion of music as conveying feelings is formulated in Aristotle’s approach. See S. H. Butcher, Aristotle’s Theory of Poetry and Fine Art (New York: Dover, 1951), 129. 46 See Robert Wilkinson, “Art, Emotion and Expression,” in Philosophical Aesthetics, ed. Oswald Hanfling (Milton Keynes: Open University Press, 1992), 194–220.

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its needs. The incorporation of music into religious life ultimately turns it into representation, metaphor, and symbolization in religious consciousness. At this point, the second stage is reached—music as a metaphor for sublime values.47 After endorsing a view of music as representing essential cosmic and religious values, the third stage is reached, where the standing of music is not determined according to its functionality or the sublime values it represents. Now, music is itself the worship of God. This approach, though rare, resonates mainly in the thought of contemporary religious composers. Note that these three stages are the product of a conceptual and not necessarily a chronological analysis so that, at times, various approaches appear simultaneously. I assume that the musical motif emerged from the development of these stages as well as from the tension between them.

Symbolization: (2) Shofar and Trumpets The first two stages of this process will be illustrated through the reasons for the commandments. The commandments include directives involving a musical aspect, such as blowing the shofar on Rosh ha-Shanah and the silver trumpets blown on the new moons and the festivals, in wars, to gather the congregation, and in the desert journey. A long series of reasons was attached, especially to the blowing of the shofar, and many ideas were pinned on it. Particularly worth noting is the presentation of its sound as mediating spiritual and material existence.48 Some, however, linked the shofar to the trumpets, fundamentally relying on an instrumental argument: the melody fulfills defined ritual needs.49 The concrete reasons for the commandments were one layer in the understanding of the role fulfilled by the musical component. Another layer, not necessarily identical to the previous one, was the symbolic meaning. The prominent leader of Orthodox Judaism in Germany, R. Samson Raphael Hirsch

47 On metaphor in art, see, for example, Max Black, “Metaphor,” in Philosophy Looks at the Arts: Contemporary Readings in Aesthetics (New York: Charles Scribner and Sons, 1962), 218–235. 48 See, for example, Abraham Shalom (fifteenth century), Naveh Shalom (Venice, 1578), part 9, ch. 7, 164b. Shalom noted three features of the divine voice: 1) “the divine voice will make wisdom, knowledge, and understanding part of human nature to be enlightened and do good”; 2) “the divine voice will overcome the evil inclination and subordinate it to reason”; 3) “the voice will strengthen and revive the intellectual soul” (ibid.). The shofar, therefore, mediates between the divine and earthly voices. 49 See ch. 4 below.

Methodological Aspects

(1808–1888), who wrote a book on the symbolic dimension of the commandments, asks regarding the injunctions about the notes to be sounded by the silver trumpets: “How, then, could these tones be anything but symbols expressed by sound?”50 The kabbalistic symbol fulfills a significant role in the development of meanings ascribed to the shofar as well. Various kabbalists viewed the sounds of the shofar as expressing different sefirot (particularly chesed, din, and malkhut).51 Kabbalistic symbolization was occasionally related to the defensive aspect of magic, that is, foiling the plots of Satan, who seeks “to mix” the teki`ot of the shofar and prevent their influence. Exegetes and preachers endeavored to explain the meaning of the symbolic distinction between the sound of the shofar and that of the trumpets.52 The symbolism of the shofar played a highly significant role in the literature related to the festivals as, for example, in the preaching genre. Preachers had long pondered the reasons for the shofar and its various sounds. One especially interesting example is the way Yehuda Leon Ashkenazi, known as Manitou (1922–1996), uses the shofar to distinguish Judaism from Eastern religions. Manitou writes: Laughter and joi de vivre are missing in the Eastern approaches, as evident in the difference between the blowing of the shofar and the depressing sound of the gong in monasteries: the sound of the gong “is too serious to be serious.” By contrast, Jewish

50 Samson Raphael Hirsch, The Collected Writings, vol. 3, Jewish Symbolism ( Jerusalem and Spring Valley, NY: Feldheim, 1984), 53. 51 Generally, teki`ah conveys the sefirah of chesed, and teru`ah the sefirah of din. See, for example, Ramban (Nachmanides), Commentary on the Torah, vol. 3, trans. Charles B. Chavel (New York: Shilo, 1974), on Leviticus 23:24, 380–386 and vol. 4 (New York: Shilo, 1975), on Numbers 10:6, 88–90. See also Bahya ben Asher, Commentary on the Torah, ed. Charles B. Chavel, vol. 2 ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1982) [Heb], on Numbers 10:2. Bahya linked the shofar to David’s harp (the harp symbolizes the sefirah of malkhut, which is also known as the lenient form of din—see end of the commentary). This issue appears also in the Zohar. See Efraim Gottlieb, The Kabbalah in the Writings of R. Bahya ben Asher ibn Halawa ( Jerusalem: Kiryat Sefer, 1970), 189 (no. 34) [Heb]. See also Shiloah, The Musical Legacy, 18–21. 52 See Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook, “Lesson on Shabbat Teshuvah” (1904), in his Otsrot ha-Rayha, ed. Moshe Tsuriel (Rishon le-Zion: Yeshivat Hesder, 2002), 904 [Heb]. In his explanation, the trumpet symbolizes an artificial response, and the shofar—a natural response.

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humor is what enabled the Jewish people to wade through the hardships of history.53 Manitou sees in the varying sounds of the shofar vitality and changing manifestations. The teki`ah sounds, in his view, convey joy.54 He may have been referring to one of the three traditional blowing styles (teki`ah, shevarim, and teru`ah), which has a musical dynamism and, to some extent, also an acoustic similarity to rolling laughter. This similarity is attained by the clarinet, for example, in klezmer music. The shofar, then, is not only an instrument that helps to attain a certain mood, such as fear of the divine judgment, a sense of the splendor and glory of God’s rule over the world in the Days of Awe, and so forth. For Manitou, the shofar symbolizes and represents a musical and conceptual dynamics of its own, and also enables the distinction between Judaism and “Eastern approaches.” This is the mode endorsed in my examination of the musical component’s role in Jewish thought, namely, as a combination of instrument and symbol, a means, and a representation of cosmic, human, and religious ideas.

Inspiration A further aspect is the role of music and its inspiration in the shaping of ideas—what are the links connecting musical performance and the emergence of ideas? The influence of music on the personality is a neuro-psychological as well as a historical fact. In the distant past, music was perceived as deeply influential on the personality in general and on the charismatic personality—the prophet and the seer—in particular, an issue discussed at length below.55 The place of music in the reception of prophecy reflects both the thinkers’ recognition of its formative power and its inspirational quality. In the modern period, thinkers have admitted that music affects their moods while also shaping their reactions and their ideas. Alternatively, composers are affected by ideas. Several twentieth-century thinkers have noted music as a source of inspiration. Two examples follow:

53 Yehouda Leon Ashkenazi, The Secret of the Midrash: A Hebraic Moral Identity, trans. Itay Ashkenazi (Tel Aviv: Miskal, 2009), 63 [Heb]. 54 Gustav Dreyfus, “The Shofar in Jewish Rite,” Tatslil 8 (1974): 14–19 [Heb]. 55 See below, 137–143.

Methodological Aspects

1) Martin Buber (1878–1965) discussed in several of his works on aesthetic philosophy, such as “Productivity and Existence,”56 several existential features of the artist. Buber’s aesthetic discussions are mainly philosophical and, ostensibly, not directly related to his Jewish thought. At the same time, however, Buber also noted that Bach’s music had influenced his personality and his thought, aiding in their development. If so, it is impossible to detach the structuring of his thought (including the one referred to as “Jewish thought”) from this direct and indirect musical influence.57 2) Abraham Joshua Heschel (1906–1972) also occasionally addressed aesthetics. He noted that music had always “challenged” his thought on the most essential and crucial issues, adding that “the only language that seems to be compatible with the wonder and mystery of being is the language of music,”58 and even compared music to faith.59 These examples are from twentieth-century thought. Music has frequently been noted as an inspiration in literary creativity,60 but we find that music also shapes ideas. Similarly, there is a connection between musical creativity and Jewish identity.61 In the light of Buber’s and Heschel’s formulations, the question is whether, and to what extent, inspiration is an actual element that must be taken into account in the study of thought. Furthermore, can we discern traces of music in thought, if it does indeed leave traces? The fact is that scholars of Buber and Heschel have intensively analyzed their thought without resorting to musical theory or repertoire. Similarly, scholars of Jewish thought during the Renaissance were hardly concerned with the potential influence of musical creativity on the ideas of Yohanan Alemanno,

56 This essay, published in 1914, appears in Pointing the Way, trans. Maurice Friedman (New York: Harper, 1957), 5–10. 57 See Maurice Friedman, Martin Buber’s Life and Work: The Early Years, 1878–1923 (Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press, 1988), 335. Einstein preferred Bach to Romantic music. See Frederic V. Grunfeld, Prophets without Honour: A Background to Freud, Kafka, Einstein, and Their World (London: Hutchinson, 1979), 158. 58 See John C. Merkle, “Introduction,” in Abraham Joshua Heschel: Exploring His Life and Thought, ed. John C. Merkle (New York: Macmillan, 1985), xv. 59 Edward K. Kaplan, Spiritual Radical: Abraham Joshua Heschel in America 1940–1972 (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2007), 55–56. See also Alexander Even-Chen, A Voice from the Darkness: Abraham Joshua Heschel—Phenomenology and Mysticism (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 1999), 65 [Heb]. 60 Ber Kotlerman, “‘And His Heart, a Precious Violin’: The Musical Substratum of S. Y. Agnon’s Yiddish Story ‘Toytntants,’” Jewish Social Studies 18 (2011): 127–144. 61 Grunfeld, Prophets without Honour, 36–51.

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Yehuda Arieh Modena, and others.62 And yet, this influence certainly existed. The lack of tools for a qualitative evaluation of this influence and its disregard among many scholars of Jewish thought cannot dismiss its existence. Music is also known to have affected the development of various ideologies, and both musicians and politicians took this influence into account.63 Given these assumptions, the question is whether ideology is reflected in music and whether music shapes ideology. A genuinely objective study of these issues may be questionable.64 Philosophical and kabbalistic interpretation, however, will not be complete without paying attention to them. The focus so far has been on a series of hermeneutical problems surrounding the view of music as a distinctly conceptual and mystical component. Henceforth, the discussion shifts to the standing of music in light of its connections to other creative and conceptual domains.

Music and Other Domains In this section, I will briefly consider the scope of the discussion dealing with the musical component in Jewish philosophy and Kabbalah, focusing on the relationship between music and contiguous areas (listening, poetry, and so forth). Various methodological issues related to the connection between terminology and ideas and between religiosity and secularism in music will also be addressed.

Music and Poetry My discussion of the place of music in Jewish thought will not address questions about the definition of music (genres, styles, and so forth). The emergence of a

62 Moshe Idel directed attention to this connection in his studies. Some thinkers, like Yehuda Arieh Modena, were also professional musicians. See below, 114. Ch. 5 below discusses claims stating that music led to self-discovery (223–226), but it is a long way from there to the claim that music shapes ideas. 63 See ch. 6 below. See also Jascha Nemtsov, Der Zionismus in der Musik: Jüdische Musik und nationale Idee (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2009). The influence of music on politics has been addressed at great length. See, for example, J. L. Talmon, Romanticism and Revolt: Europe 1815–1848 (London: Thames and Hudson, 1967). 64 See the comments of Chaim Gans, From Richard Wagner to the Palestinian Right of Return (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 2006), 29–51 [Heb].

Methodological Aspects

musical approach in texts commonly accepted as part of Jewish thought will be part of my concern even if the source of this approach is not Jewish. Nor will I consistently distinguish, in the use of the sources, between a reference to music as a system of theoretical rules—that is, as a theoretical and analytical discipline—and a reference to musical practice—that is, performance, listening to music, musical education, and music’s mental, therapeutic, and social influence. The distinction between poetry and music characterizes modern culture. The modern person will say that “poetry does not need any external music. It has a music of its own.”65 The history of ideas, however, requires a different approach. The broad denotation of music in the present work covers also poetry and piyyut as well as the value of the voice and of listening, given that the borders between these domains became blurred at various times and in different cultures. The musical dimension, as we know, was an inseparable element of liturgical poetry.66 Sacred poetry was intimately connected to its performance in prayers. The poet and the writer of liturgical poetry became one. Furthermore, from the dawn of Jewish scholarship, researchers have been awed by the sacred poetry of Judah Halevi.67 Ezra Fleischer (1928–2006), among the most prominent scholars of medieval Hebrew poetry, described the dynamic of Halevi’s religious poetry in distinctly musical terms: When you read the piyyutim of R. Judah Halevi you are at times captivated by this wondrous movement as if by magic. You forget the words and their meanings, the ideas they seek to represent, and you listen only to the sublime, intangible melody, to the sounds fusing into a harmony that, as it were, is not of this world.68

65 Nissim Calderon: The Second Day: On Poetry and Rock in Israel after Yona Wallach (Or Yehuda: Dvir, 2009), 12 [Heb]. Note that Aryeh Leib Gordon (1848–1912) understood the liturgical expression be-shirah u-be-zimrah as meaning, respectively, poetry and melody. See his interpretation of the prayerbook, Tikkun Tefillah, in his Otsar ha-Tefillot (Vilnius, 1915), 133a. 66 See, for example, Dan Pagis, Poetry Aptly Explained: Studies and Essays on Medieval Hebrew Poetry, ed. Ezra Fleischer ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1993), 275 [Heb]. For a bibliography, see Joseph Tabori, “Jewish Prayer and the Yearly Cycle: A List of Articles,” Kiryat Sefer 64, supplement (1992–1993): 27–31 [Heb]. 67 Aviva Doron, ed., Yehuda Halevi: A Selection of Critical Essays on His Poetry (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 1988), 9–41 [Heb]. 68 Ezra Fleischer, “The Sacred Poetry of Judah Halevi,” in The Philosophical Teachings of Judah Halevi, ed. Haya Schwarz ( Jerusalem: Ministry of Education, 1978), 178 [Heb].

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Fleischer obviously meant the flow and the brilliant use of language in Halevi’s poems, but music provided him a proper expression of it and he certainly relied on the fact that the musical dimension is built into the piyyut. The reading of poetry becomes music. Note, in this context, the comment of Ben-Zion Meir Hai Uziel (1880–1953), who was the Chief Sephardic Rabbi. R. Uziel distinguished poets who needed inspiration from those who did not because their being was woven into poetry. Halevi obviously belonged to the second kind, and R. Uziel relied on the lyre image to convey this distinction: A special virtue singles out Judah Halevi from all the other Jewish poets who preceded him and from those who followed him. All engaged in poetry and song at set times, when the spirit of poetry descended upon them or the lyre of poetry hang above them and, when the spirit blew on its strings—awoke the poet and inspired his poetry. Not so Judah Halevi: he was a poetic soul—poetry never ceased in him and was his sole and constant amusement. . . . He, therefore, knew himself as if his body and soul were a lyre for the poetry of Israel, and the spirit of poetry bursts forth from him and voices its lament for the intensity of its pain and suffering, hankers for its God demanding retribution and justice, and yet never ceases in its praise and its song to the Rock of its strength and the God of its exaltation.69 R. Uziel’s metaphor hints to the aggadah about the lyre that hung above King David’s bed. The daring of his statements is astounding. King David had, as it were, needed a lyre, that is, inspiration, whereas Halevi had not since he was himself a kind of lyre. R. Uziel transposed the distinction between Mosaic prophecy and that of other prophets to the realm of aesthetic inspiration. In any event, poetry and song are part of Halevi’s sublime work, as is claimed at the end of the passage. Many thinkers who did not display professional skills in musical theory or performance still wrote about music. Several random examples follow, attesting to the terminological blurring between poetry and music.

69 Ben-Zion Meir Hai Uziel, Hegyonei Uziel, vol. 2 ( Jerusalem: Va`ad le-Hotsa`at Kitvei ha-Rav, 1992), 185 [Heb].

Methodological Aspects

1)  The Guide of the Perplexed was written in 1187–1191. In III:43, Maimonides briefly reiterates the three views on rabbinic precepts detailed in the introduction to M. Sanhedrin 10 (Perek Chelek). Allegory, which in his view is the correct approach to Aggadah, resembles the poets’ use of “poetic expressions.”70 R. Shmuel ibn Tibbon, who translated The Guide of the Perplexed in Maimonides’ lifetime, chose to render it as “singers [mezamrei] of the song.” For ibn Tibbon, then, the poet is also the composer.71 2) Gersonides (R. Levi ben Gershom, Ralbag, 1288–1344) considered the composer’s inspiration. Creativity begins from the melody, not from the isolated sound. The melody arises in the composer’s consciousness and its instrumental recording is of less value and quality than the conscious move. The tune flows in the composer’s performance. According to Gersonides, when a man wants to sing a song that he has conceived in his mind, the vocal chords are immediately set in motion by this conception, producing such marvelous movements that instrumental music cannot reproduce them. Similarly, the fingers of an instrumentalist rapidly move over the instrument according to the conception [of the music] in his mind without having to consider each particular movement that is required.72 Gersonides, then, uses the term song to refer to a melody.

70 Maimonides, Dalālat al-Ha’irīn, ed. Salomon Munk and I. Yoel ( Jerusalem: Yunovits, 1931), 420, ln. 5. Alharizi translates this phrase: “as they approach poetic metaphors”; Kafih: “as poets use poetic sayings”; Michael Schwarz: “as poets use poetic expressions.” 71 The original meaning of the root z-m-r in the Bible is to produce music by singing, by playing an instrument, or both. In the Scrolls, in prayers, and in liturgical poetry, the use of this root in its biblical denotation is quite widespread. The denotation is thus clearly musical. Incidentally, Abraham Joshua Heschel commented derogatorily on this statement of Maimonides, apparently unjustifiably. See his Heavenly Torah as Refracted through the Generations, trans. Gordon Tucker and Leonard Levin (New York and London: Continuum, 2006), 25. 72 Levi ben Gershom (Gersonides), The Wars of the Lord, vol. 2, Dreams Divination and Prophecy, trans. Seymour Feldman (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1987), 119. Feldman directs readers to Halevi, The Kuzari III:11, although Halevi’s concern there differs from that of Gersonides. See ibid., n. 10.

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3) In the late Middle Ages in Spain, a circle of poets called itself Adat Nognim [Community of players].73 Poetry and playing are intermixed, at least terminologically. 4) Folktales ascribed great significance to the reciting of psalms by simple people. One example is the story of R. Yudel of Przemysl, who would recite the entire Book of Psalms every day, and twice on the Sabbath and holidays. At his funeral, he was accompanied by a mysterious military orchestra, which later turned out to be King David and his army.74 Psalms and their musical rendition, then, cannot be separated. 5) In the twentieth century, R. David Cohen (the Nazir) founded his teachings on a preference for hearing over sight, without drawing any rigid distinctions between acoustics, music, and logic.75 Playing, listening, and poetry were perceived as different aspects of the same root. Already in ancient sources, however, we may find a distinction between the poem and its musical dimension. With a family celebration or banquet in the background (“when they are eating and drinking”) the Babylonian Talmud differentiates between reading Song of Songs and setting it to music: Our Rabbis taught: One who recites a verse of Song of Songs and treats it as a [secular] air, and one who recites a verse at the banquet table, not in its time, brings evil upon the world. Because the Torah girds itself in sackcloth, stands before the Holy One, blessed be He, and says:76 “Sovereign of the Universe! Your children have made me as a lyre77 played upon by Gentiles.”78 He said

73 See, for example, Tirza Vardi, The “Group of Poets” in Saragossa (PhD diss., Hebrew University, Jerusalem, 1996) [Heb]; Matti Huss, Don Vidal Benveniste’s Melitsat Efer ve-Dinah: Studies and Critical Edition ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2003) [Heb]. In ancient sources, the verb lenagen appears in the denotation of producing sounds from an instrument. Only in the late Middle Ages did they begin to use the term to denote also actual singing. In any event, n-g-n denotes music. 74 Mordechai Ben Yehezkel, Sefer ha-Ma`asiyot, vol. 5 (Tel Aviv: Dvir, 1958), 327–329 [Heb]. The story is probably from the nineteenth century. 75 See below, 143–146. 76 In Munich MS, omer[et]. 77 On the lyre in the Midrash, see above, 16–20. The lyre in this passage is a metaphor for Scripture (Song of Songs). The approach toward the biblical text, shifting from a musical to a homiletical view, is perceived as a distinction between the Gentile and Jewish approaches. 78 This is the version in the Munich, Florence, and Jerusalem manuscripts. In later printed versions, “by jesters” (letsim).

Methodological Aspects

to her, “My daughter, when they are eating and drinking, what shall they occupy themselves with?” Said she, “Sovereign of the Universe! If they know Scripture, let them engage in the Torah, the Prophets, and the Hagiography; if they know Mishnah, they will engage in the Mishnah, in halakhoth, and aggadot; and if they know Talmud,79 let them engage in laws.”80 Song of Songs was perceived as a sensitive text given the fear that it might be read as erotic poetry. The Babylonian Talmud, therefore, condemned the setting of these texts to music in banquets and, ostensibly, viewed study as the alternative to poetry and music. Yitzhak Alfasi (Rif), Asher ben Yehiel (Rosh), and others also ruled in this spirit.81 Rashi, however, commented in Sanhedrin that one “reads it with a melody different from that of the cantillations,” that is, the distinction is between the cantillations and another melody. In his view, the musical reading of the text is not a priori different from the non-musical reading, and the prohibition is on the creation of an alternative tradition. Halakhists may also have intended this formulation. In any event, at various times we find traditions of set melodies for poems and piyyutim and the melody becomes a fixed component of the poem.82 Another example is the determination of Samuel ben Hofni Gaon (late tenth century) who acknowledged the influence of music on the soul but held that the influence of poetic language is even greater. He claimed that “graceful expressions [latīf] work on many souls even more than music, just as poets affect us through the setting and rhyming of their words and through the meter in the stanzas of their poems.”83 Samuel

79 In Munich MS, Tor[ah] (!). 80 BT Sanhedrin 101a. See also Kallah Rabbati 1:6. By contrast, the Tosefta links the poetry of Song of Songs to the banquet hall and metes out the grave punishment of denying a share in the world to come (“He who trills the Song of Songs in a banquet-hall,” Tosefta Sanhedrin 12:10, Zuckermandel ed., 433). Exegetes and halakhists, however, did not endorse the Tosefta version. See Elimelech Halevi, The Historical Biographic Aggadah in Light of Greek and Latin Sources (Tel Aviv: Niv, 1975), 399 [Heb]; Yonah Fraenkel, The Paths of Aggadah and Midrash, vol. 1 (Givatayim: Yad la-Talmid, 1991), 41 [Heb]. For halakhic discussions on the prohibition of composing music for Scriptural texts that seems to be implicit here, see David Stav, Bein ha-Zmanim: Leisure and Recreation from a Jewish Perspective (Tel Aviv: Miskal, 2012), 182 [Heb]. 81 Rif on BT Berakhot 21b and on BT Sanhedrin 19b; Rosh on BT Berakhot, ch. 5, #1 and on BT Sanhedrin, ch. 11, #3. 82 See, for example, Moshe Hallamish, The Kabbalah in North Africa: A Historical and Cultural Survey (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 2001), 152 [Heb]. 83 The commentary on Genesis 44:34 appears in The Biblical Commentary of Rav Samuel ben Hofni Gaon According to Genizah Manuscripts, ed. Aaron Greenbaum ( Jerusalem: Mosad

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ben Hofni, then, distinguished music from rhymed metered poetry. The musical aspect, however, whether as recitation or as melody, was usually perceived as an integral part of the poem. A further concern was the extent to which the words could be separated from the melody.84 Inklings of this distinction, as noted, are already found in medieval literature. Religious poetry, for example, was meant to be recited at the synagogue or at ritual events. Today, however, poetry is perceived as independent from the melody and is indeed studied as such. Poetry scholars do not assume musical knowledge is a necessary condition for engaging in their pursuit and, therefore, poetry will be addressed here only insofar as it appears in a musical “environment.”

Music and Its Environment My orientation in this study focuses on the cultural and philosophical aspects of the musical components. The scope of the sources I will use, therefore, is extremely broad. Musicologist Israel Adler pointed to the problematic of our sources, evident in the difficulty of carving a path to the wealth of musically interesting testimonies scattered in various types of rabbinic and scholarly texts. This difficulty is tied to the rarity of Hebrew works devoted to music that are independent bibliographic units, and to the fact that most of the relevant evidence on one or another aspect of the scholarship on Jewish music is hidden in volumes or anthologies that, usually, do not note in their defined theme any connection to topics of musical interest. At best, the reference to a musical issue takes the form of a chapter or a section devoted to music. Most testimonies referring to Jewish musical traditions, to the rabbinic approach to music, to musical life among Jews, and so forth, are random and sporadic, inside exegetical commentaries,

Harav Kook, 1978), 238. On Samuel ben Hofni, see David E. Sklare, Samuel ben Hofni Gaon and his Cultural World: Texts and Studies (Leiden: Brill, 1996). 84 See, for example, Joachim Stutschewsky, On Jewish Music (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 1988), 103–104 [Heb].

Methodological Aspects

ethical and homiletic volumes, legal anthologies, responsa literature, books on customs and practices, travelogues, and so forth.85 The challenges and difficulties confronting discussions of the musical component within Jewish literature, therefore, are of two kinds: 1) exposing references to music in sources that do not deal primarily with music, hence a need for proficiency in various types of writing and creativity; 2) exposing these references when they appear indirectly, in texts dealing with related topics such as poetry and listening. The discussion so far shows that, in Jewish thought, the borders between a poem and its melody narrow down and at times fade altogether. Generally, I do not intend to confine myself to distinctions between cantillated reading and musical composition and will address all musical aspects of texts. The musical aspect of a poem is at times hard to separate from its literal and aesthetic implications, and sharp distinctions have sometimes been drawn between instrumental and vocal music. André Neher (1914–1988), one of French Jewry’s spiritual leaders, claimed that King David had emphasized silence even when instrumental music was being played. How? The Book of Psalms is founded on melody. Its ending, Psalm 150, is “a polyphony of praise.”86 But this ending is instrumental. A shofar, a harp and a lyre, a tambourine and dance, and so forth—but no human voice. Stillness and silence are existential characteristics, as is music. King David is, on the one hand, a poet— “he unites the heavenly with the earthly song and, in brief, sits on his chair as both a soloist and a conductor and with his lyre conducts the entire world, the orchestra that deserves to be called ‘the philharmonia of the cosmos.’”87 On the other hand, however, he is a man of silence, who plays his lyre for Saul. King Saul and the young David are in an intimate situation, where the voice has been silenced. Neher, then, distinguishes the vocal from the instrumental and melody from poetry. I do not intend to place limitations or constraints on the analysis of the musical motif and its manifestations (voice, singing, melody, and so forth). The

85 Israel Adler, “Musicology and Jewish Sciences,” Tatslil 11 (1980): 25 [Heb]. See also Shiloah, The Musical Legacy of Jewish Communities, unit 3. 86 André Neher, “Silence Is Praise to You,” in André Neher and Jewish Thought in Post-Holocaust France, ed. Yehoyada Amir ( Jerusalem: Van Leer Institute, 2005), 243 [Heb]. 87 Ibid., 244.

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discussion will focus on music as a general cultural component, which shapes ideas and worldviews.

The Culture of Leisure A book dealing with music in Jewish thought cannot disregard the significant role of music in the “secular” manifestations of leisure culture. Many medieval halakhists and thinkers viewed musical leisure culture as depraved and sinful, particularly because music was often related to women.88 They feared the enormous power of music and its effect on the soul and on behavior. Although nature poetry was not generally perceived as a threat to religion, songs about wine and erotic passion evoked opposition.89 This poetry, like other branches of secular poetry, was usually accompanied by music.90 When Kalonymus b. Kalonymus, a poet and philosopher in Provence (born in 1286), tried to describe the spiritual decline in his generation, he claimed that the behavior of young people was characterized by “tambourine and dance, joy and shalishim.”91 Opposition is also evident in later periods, and especially when music and dance became an ethos during the Haskalah.92 Meir Leibush Wisser (Malbim) claimed that the cradle of music was sin and lust, and only with time “did it again become honorable.”93 One significant factor in the development of the musical component in Jewish thought is the ostensibly categorical prohibition of listening to music

88 See, for example, Dan Pagis, Secular Poetry and Poetic Theory: Moses ibn Ezra and His Contemporaries ( Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1970), 263 [Heb]. 89 See, for example, Shlomo Dov Goitein, A Mediterranean Society: The Jewish Communities of the Arab World as Portrayed in the Documents of the Cairo Genizah, vol. 5 (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1988), 41–42. On the Muslim background of this approach, see Shiloah, Music in the World of Islam, 39–41. Shiloah cites the ruling by the greatest of Muslim theologians, Al-Ghazali (1058–1111), stating that listening to music for its own sake is forbidden (ibid., 65). 90 See Jefim Schirmann, The History of Hebrew Poetry in Muslim Spain, ed. Ezra Fleischer ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press and Yad Yizhak Ben-Zvi, 1995), 73–77 [Heb]. 91 Kalonymus b. Kalonymus, Even Bochan, ed. A. M. Haberman (Tel Aviv: Machbarot le-Sifrut, 1956), 30 [Heb]. See the discussion on Maimonides in ch. 2 below. On drums in this period, see Adi Sulkin, “Drum-Making according to Jewish Exegetes in Tenth–Twelfth Centuries,” Tatslil 9 (1977): 116–118 [Heb]. 92 On the parties and festivals culture, see below, 82–84. 93 See Malbim’s commentary on Genesis 4:21: Malbim, Commentary on the Torah ( Jerusalem, 1969), 39a. Malbim also adds that the etymological source of the organ (ugav) mentioned in the interpreted text is an erotic poem (shir agavim).

Methodological Aspects

following the destruction of the Temple and the exile that followed. Halakhists such as Yaakov Moelin (Maharil, active in the late Middle Ages) ruled that singing is a commandment solely on festivals (meaning the three pilgrimage festivals) and in the synagogue. They even forbade singing on the Sabbath, except for the singing “set for the meal.”94 Other halakhists, however, applied the prohibition of listening to music after the destruction of the Temple to musical leisure culture. In their view, secular music meant licentiousness and sin, contrary to liturgical poetry. One example is the responsum of Yehuda Arieh Modena (1571–1648), a late Renaissance polymath. “To sing at a wine banquet or to pleasure oneself as do kings and so forth,” he wrote, “all that is forbidden because of the destruction of the Temple and our current exile.”95 This approach went through many phases and was to some extent neutralized by the developments during the Haskalah.96 Nevertheless, Shai Piron and Yuval Cherlow referred to Maimonides’ reservations about secular musical culture but also emphasized another dimension in his approach—evaluating a song by its content.97 Up to this day, then, halakhists ponder the question of music’s status as part of leisure culture and create various categories (types of music, a distinction between Jerusalem and other places, and so forth) to permit musical experiences and the use of music in festive events. To some extent, these discussions attest to the continuity of a musical leisure culture.

94 Cited in Mishnah Berurah, #560:14 (37a). 95 Yehuda Arieh Modena, Selected Writings, ed. Peninah Naveh ( Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1968) 163 [Heb]. See Louis Jacobs, Theology in the Responsa (London and Boston: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1975), 155; Don Harrán, “‘Dum recordaremur Sion’: Music in the Life and Thought of the Venetian Rabbi Leon Modena (1571–1648),” Association for Jewish Studies Review 23 (1998): 17–61. 96 See ch. 2 below. 97 For Shai Piron’s comments, see “Musikah chilonit,” https://www.kipa.co.il/%D7%A9%D7%90%D7%9C-%D7%90%D7%AA-%D7%94%D7 %A8%D7%91/%D7%9E%D7%95%D7%A1%D7%99%D7%A7%D7%94-%D7%97%D7% 99%D7%9C%D7%95%D7%A0%D7%99%D7%AA-2/. For Yuval Cherlow’s responsum, see “Musikah lo`azit,” http://shut.moreshet.co.il/shut2. asp?id=19219. On Maimonides’ view, see below, 61–66. According to this reference, many musical genres are off-limits. For example, many rock and blues songs deal with the relationships between men and women. A significant gap appears to separate the open free world of young people, as they describe it in their questions, and the conservative world of these rabbis, who are considered enlightened.

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The Borders of the Discourse My aim in this book, as set out above, is to set the foundation for a phenomenological analysis of music’s place in Jewish thought throughout its history.98 I strive to understand the consciousness that Jewish thought created by tracing the course of one of its components. Rather than limiting my inquiry to a specific period, I will evaluate how music became, in various ways, a factor in the shaping of the conceptual worldview in changing times, and music’s standing within it. Studies have occasionally addressed the place and value of music in medieval Jewish thought, but this literature has mainly focused on the publication of texts and on the study of specific issues.99 In the Middle Ages, musical conceptions fluctuate between Neopythagorean or Neoplatonic approaches—which tend to discuss music in the context of the closeness between musical theory and mathematics—and the Aristotelian approach—which tends to relate to music as absorbed by the senses and requiring listening. By contrast, the general standing of music in modern Jewish thought has hardly been considered, and I will remark on this below. The periodization issue is certainly significant. There are profound differences between the presence of music in medieval thought and its presence in modern and contemporary thought. For example, in the Middle Ages and in the Renaissance, most musical creativity was enlisted in the service of religion and the main corpus of music fulfilled the needs of the Church. Folk and secular music in the Middle Ages was mainly a lower-class pursuit limited to minstrels and jongleurs. In the Baroque era, musical creativity fulfilled secular needs as well, and gained prominence within aristocratic courts. Over time, music became an independent aesthetic experience. The conceptual process was similar—music served religious philosophy and mysticism rather than the opposite. In modern thought, music is perceived as an independent realm of creativity that is not necessarily tied to religious thought. In these approaches, 98 On the phenomenological method in the study of religion, see, for example, Daniel Guerrière, ed. Phenomenology of the Truth Proper to Religion (Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1990). 99 See, generally, T. C. Karp, “Music,” in The Seven Liberal Arts in the Middle Ages, ed. David L. Wagner (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1983), 169–195. For an initial discussion of the medieval Jewish thought tradition, see Eric Werner and Isaiah Sonne, “The Philosophy and Theory of Music in Judaeo-Arabic Literature,” Hebrew Union College Annual 16 (1941): 251–319 and 17 (1942–1943): 511–573. This article includes a brief preliminary discussion of what the authors refer to as “the philosophy of music.” See also Nehemia Aloni, “The Term ‘Music’ in Our Medieval Literature,” in Studies in Medieval Philology and Literature: Collected Papers, vol. 6 ( Jerusalem: Yad Yizhak Ben-Zvi, 1992), 79–115 [Heb].

Methodological Aspects

religion pursues its course parallel to music and the connection between them is mostly indirect. Furthermore, in antiquity and in the Middle Ages, many areas of science coalesced with philosophy. The determination that music—mainly in its theoretical dimension—is a scientific domain automatically located it in the realm of philosophical and scientific thought. In modernity, however, the perception of the connection between science and philosophy changed, and music’s standing changed accordingly. I relate below to various periods in order to clarify the involvement of music in the shaping of religious thought.

The Structure of the Discussion The book, as noted, relates to the manifestations of the musical component, particularly in Jewish philosophy and in Kabbalah. The central topics will be the following. 1) Assessments on the standing of music that have appeared in Jewish thought. These assessments are summed up in the location of music as a legitimate scientific domain, in its classification as an aesthetic field, and in its presentation as positive or negative. The connection between myth and music also touches on the assessment of the field. 2) The Jewish people’s standing vis-à-vis music. Over centuries of exile, the Jewish people’s attempts to cope with a sense of musical inferiority has yielded an extensive and fascinating set of apologies. Arguments for their purported musical advantage fluctuate from the Levites’ playing up to the characterization of the Jewish people as possessing distinct musical qualities. 3) The instrumental character of music as serving a religious interest. Some of the topics considered will be music as a preparation for prophecy, as exerting psychological and medical influence, and its magical uses. Finally, the discussion on the advantage of the Jewish people will be continued, now focusing on music’s instrumental aspect. 4)  Approaches that have ascribed a more independent status to music—as representation, and as language. Among the topics discussed will be the perception of music as a “heavenly art” and as a mirror of the world, and the appearance of music as a substantive field in aesthetic discussions within modern Jewish thought. The twentieth century saw the appearance of approaches linking music to dialogue and authenticity.

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5) The place of music in the religious national revival. I chose to review music in religious Zionism since this movement reflects the theological grappling of a conservative approach with the cultural transformations of modernity. This discussion enables an assessment of the actual place of music in the renewing religious world and its results, at least regarding concert music, are not flattering.

Interfacing Issues The purpose of the present book, as noted, is mainly to examine music as a consideration in the shaping of a philosophical worldview. But we cannot ignore some issues anchored in Jewish musical traditions that, although they do not always coalesce into a distinct philosophical element, are indirectly and directly related to the discussions in the chapters that follow. 1)  Cantillations were meant to punctuate the Scriptural texts and read them in a musical rendition, thereby also interpreting them. This interpretation was not accepted as canonic and ancient sources are at times in dispute on the interpretation of the cantillations. Yet, the obligation of reading the Torah in the synagogue with cantillations turned them into an important mediator between the individual and the Torah. Cantillations are anchored in a musical tradition of their reading and although, as noted, they involve a kind of interpretation, they are above all musical signs.100 One illustrative example is the preservation of two different musical traditions for the reading of the same text—the Ten Commandments.101 Two questions merit note in this connection between cantillations and music: a) cantillations and the musical dimension; and b) cantillations in Kabbalah. a) Scholars and researchers have occasionally discussed cantillations but without any connection to music. For example, a large part of the book of Samuel David Luzzatto (Shadal), Bechinat ha-Kabbalah,102 deals with cantillations but without addressing their musical aspect.

100 Amos Hakham, “Scriptural Cantillations as Signs of Music and Syntax,” Dukhan 9 (1972): 77–87; Mordechai Breuer, On the Cantillations ( Jerusalem: Mikhlalah Yerushalayim, 1982), 368 [Heb]. 101 Amnon Shiloah, “Some Comments on the Cantillation of the Ten Commandments,” in The Ten Commandments in History and Tradition, ed. Ben Zion Segal and Gershon Levi ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1990), 331–342. 102 Published in Gorizia in 1852.

Methodological Aspects

b) Cantillations also play an important role in kabbalistic thought, but often without any real connection to the accompanying musical traditions. Yitzhak Cohen, a thirteenth-century kabbalist who wandered around Spain and Provence, viewed Scriptural cantillations as a reflection of the emanation of good and evil and found in their names hints at supernal figures.103 Sefer ha-Peli’ah, a Byzantine kabbalistic work written in the fourteenth century where the musical motif is frequent, states that “for whoever reads the Torah without a melody, the Torah girds itself in sackcloth”104 The reason for mourning is the loss of the hints that the musical tradition exposes. Cantillations are connected to various areas. Folktales highlighted the calamities that befall whoever changed the melody of the cantillations or the musical version of the prayer.105 Some have claimed that there were also cantillations for the reading of the Mishnah.106 Musical creativity in the early years of the State of Israel relied quite significantly on cantillations.107 103 “Te`amei ha-Te`amim,” in Kabbalot R. Yaakov and R. Yitzhak: Sources for the History of Kabbalah before the Zohar, ed. and intro. Gershom Scholem ( Jerusalem: Hebrew University Press, 1927), 107–113 [Heb]. See also Elias Lipiner, The Metaphysics of the Hebrew Alphabet ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1989), 385–386 [Heb]. 104 Sefer ha-Peli’ah (Przemysl, 1888), part 1, 36a [Heb]. Cf. R. Yohanan: “For one who reads Scripture without a melody or recites the Mishnah without a tune, Scripture says, ‘Wherefore I gave them also statutes that were not good, and judgments whereby they should not live’ (Ezekiel 20:25)” (BT Megillah 32a). Similarly, see Israel ibn al-Nakawa, Menorat ha-Maor, ed. H. G. Enelow, part 3 (New York: Bloch, 1931), 329, ln. 23 [Heb]. See also Michal Kushnir Oron, The Sefer ha-Peli’ah and the Sefer ha-Kanah: Their Kabbalistic Principles, Social and Religious Criticism and Literary Composition (PhD diss., Hebrew University, Jerusalem, 1980) [Heb]; Moshe Idel, The Mystical Experience in Abraham Abulafia, trans. Jonathan Chipman (Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1988), 63–64. The perception of melody as reflecting the emanation of the spheres and the action of the letters is widespread in Sefer ha-Peli’ah and is occasionally discussed below. 105 For a good collection of sources, see Yosef Yitzhak Lerner, Shmirat ha-Guf ve-ha-Nefesh ( Jerusalem: n.p., 1988), 265–266 [Heb]. 106 “And you should know that, although these cantillations are specific to Scripture, the ancients had already used them in the reading of the Mishnah as well and, in some places, they would use cantillations as when reading Scripture” (Yitzhak b. Moshe, known as Profiat Duran, Ma`aseh Efod, ed. Jakob Kohn and Jonathan Friedlander (Vienna, 1865), reprinted in Dov Rappel, “The Introduction to Ma`aseh Efod by Profiat Duran,” Sinai 100 (1987): 789 [Heb]. Rappel notes there that Simon b. Zemah Duran also attested to cantillations in the reading of the Mishnah. 107 See, for example, the view of composer Ami Ma`ayani: “When I seek the original Jewish elements I would wish to found my music on, I turn to the rich musical world of Scripture. I have cantillations in their different versions.” Ami Ma`ayani, “‘Cantillations,’ ‘The Songs of Solomon,’” Dukhan 10 (1974): 63–64 [Heb]. Andre Hajdu, a composer who

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2)  Halakhah as expressed in the responsa literature deals with diverse issues connected to music. As early as the late geonic period, Hai Gaon (939–1038) dealt with the standing of music and allowed only religious singing, and even that with some reservations.108 This focus on “halakhot on music” intensifies in surroundings that appreciate music. Examples of such surroundings in various periods are: a) life in Italy during the Renaissance,109 where many Jews were involved in musical education and in composition; b) emergence of initiatives promoting religious reform in the nineteenth century that led to the controversy on the use of organs in synagogues;110 c) the modern world, where music plays a significant role, particularly in the shaping of youth and adolescent culture. The central question is the very legitimacy of music, that is, the license to create it and listen to it given its negative evaluation or its negative implications.111 This issue, however, involves several aspects. Examples of the problems raised in halakhic literature are listening to women singing, listening to music at times of personal or public mourning (the counting of the omer or or the period from 17 Tamuz to 9 Av known as “the three weeks”), and listening to church music. The matter of listening to women singing has given rise to a lively

had dealt with ethnomusicology, criticized dependence on the cantillations: “In my view, biblical cantillations served composers in the 1950s and 1960s as a way of avoiding entry into the depths of Jewish music. The greater their scorn for anything related to the musical life of the various ethnic communities, the greater their backing of Scriptural cantillations, perhaps because they are abstract, universal—without the smell of concrete Jews. Their interest in biblical cantillations, therefore, was always suspect to me, reminiscent of the establishment backing the integration of exiles.” Mira Zakai and Andre Hajdu, Where Do Salmons Swim To? A Dialogue (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 1996), 131 [Heb]. I deal at length with Hajdu’s approach below, 224–226. 108 See Shiloah, The Musical Legacy of Jewish Communities, unit 3, 18. 109 See, for example, Eduard Birnbaum, Jewish Musicians at the Court of the Mantuan Dukes (1542–1628), rev. Judith Cohen (Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University Press, 1975) [Heb]. 110 Abraham Berliner, “Literar-geschichtliche Belege uber die christliche Orgel im judischen Gottesdienste,” in Zur Lehr’ und zur Wehr: Über und gegen die kirchliche Orgel im jüdischen Gottesdienste (Berlin: Nathansen and Lamm, 1904), 40–63; A. M. Haberman, “The Problem of the Organ in Synagogues,” Tatslil 10 (1978): 21–25 [Heb]; Moshe Samet, Chapters in the History of Orthodoxy ( Jerusalem: Carmel, 2005), ch. 8 [Heb]. 111 For a recent attempt to present systematic halakhot in the realm of music, see Stav, Bein ha-Zmanim: Leisure and Recreation, 178–191. The halakhot were preceded by an introduction containing musings about the attitude toward music in Jewish sources (ibid., 161–177). Stav sums up the negative implications as a “fear of licentiousness, vulgar language or improper atmosphere” that could accompany the music (ibid., 175).

Methodological Aspects

discourse among Orthodox feminists.112 Responsa literature, by its very nature, endeavors to create distinctions (secular vs. sacred music, melodies leading to dancing and joy vs. melodies that do not, and so forth). The implications of these discussions for the conceptual literature are undeniable. 3)  Custom extends beyond the halakhic rulings and makes up a rich and diverse world of ethos and behavior. Many customs have a direct or an indirect connection to music. Kabbalah and Hasidism intensified this connection and anchored it in philosophical traditions. Examples of customs with clear musical overtones are hillulot (festivities honoring famous rabbis and scholars), singing on Kabbalat Shabbat, Shabbat songs,113 night singing (tikkun chatsot),114 and the singing of requests and petitions, which has been accompanied by a rich musical tradition.115 Custom also entailed educational aspects. For example, yeshivot often heightened the musical dimension of

112 See, for example, Tamar Ross, “Feminism’s Contribution to the Halakhic Discourse: ‘Kol Isha’ as a Test Case,” in Philosophy of Halakhah: Halakhah, Meta-Halakhah, and Philosophy—A Multidisciplinary Perspective, ed. Avinoam Rosenak ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2011), 35–64 [Heb]. For additional references, see ibid., 39, note 10. On the singing of women in ancient Judaism, see, for example, Kühn, Music in Scripture, 31. See also Shiloah, The Musical Legacy, units 9–10, 26–33. 113 On singing on the Sabbath, see, for example, Shaye J. D. Cohen, “Dancing, Clapping, Meditating: Jewish and Christian Observance of the Sabbath in Pseudo-Ignatius,” in Judaea-Palaestina, Babylon and Rome: Jews in Antiquity, ed. Benjamin Isaac and Yuval Shahar (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), 29–51. 114 See below, 176–177. And see also Haviva Pedaya, “Grief and Bliss: Israel Najara and the Nightly Musical Path in Judaism,” in Garment and Core: Jews and Their Musical Experiences, ed. Eitan Avitsur, Marina Ritzarev, and Edwin Seroussi (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2012), 79–122 [Heb]. 115 See, for example, Meir Shimon Geshuri, “Hasidic Table Melodies on Sabbaths and Festivals,” Dukhan 7 (1966): 39–49 [Heb]; Yaakov Rothschild, “Sabbath Songs of Jews in Southern Germany and Related Customs,” Dukhan 7 (1966): 99–104 [Heb]; Reuven Kimelman, The Mystical Meaning of Lekhah Dodi and Kabbalat Shabbat ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press; Los Angeles: Cherub, 2003) [Heb]; Moshe Hallamish, Kabbalistic Customs of Shabbat ( Jerusalem: Orhot, 2006), 342–348 [Heb]. On the singing of requests and petitions, see, for example, T. Turel, “Baqqashot of Moroccan Jews,” Dukhan 12 (1989): 107–114 [Heb]; idem, “The Role and Meaning of Music in the Baqqashot Event of Moroccan Jews,” Dukhan 12 (1989): 115–129; Edwin Seroussi, “On the Origin of the Custom of Chanting Baqqashot [Petitions] in Jerusalem in the Nineteenth Century,” Pe`amim: Studies in Oriental Jewry 56 (1993): 106–124 [Heb]. During the Holocaust, singing at times conveyed the struggle to sustain religious routine in the face of the dreadful reality. See Pesach Schindler, Hasidic Responses to the Holocaust in the Light of Hasidic Thought (Hoboken, NJ: Ktav, 1990), 63–64.

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the Sabbath and festivals gatherings, included singing and melodies in plays that were performed on Purim and became a tradition, and so forth.116 4) Halakhah and custom related to permitted and forbidden music, sacred and secular music, singing at the synagogue and outside it, and so forth. Official permission for musical education and for musical pursuits was granted to cantors, to liturgical poets, and in some places, also to Torah readers.117 Regarding musical performance, people playing at weddings, celebrations, and joyful events that were considered to fulfill a commandment were allowed to acquire a musical education and to engage in music as a professional pursuit. Klezmorim emerged as an institution in Eastern Europe.118 Their bohemianism was perceived as a danger to religious and normative life. A Hasidic story tells the tale of Yisrael Hopstein, also known as the Maggid of Kozhnitz (1736–1814), who tried to help a restless klezmer whose soul had been captured by malicious forces and tortured by evil angels.119 Shalom Aleichem (1859–1916) wrote Stempenyu: A Jewish Romance, a story about the seductions of klezmorim’s lives. The mark left by klezmorim on the literature and on society is an issue per se, touching directly and indirectly on music’s influence on the Jewish cultural ethos at various times. The literary record is ultimately an expression of thought. 5) On the other pole there was cantorial music, which had a direct connection to prayer style. Liturgical tradition played a significant role in Jewish religious life. The musical dimension of the prayer style is also meaningful in the religious culture of modern Jews, and below are some issues related to it.

116 See, for example, Immanuel Etkes and Shlomo Tikochinski, Memoirs of the Lithuanian Yeshiva ( Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center for Jewish History, 2004), 357–359 [Heb]. 117 The cantor’s authority rested also on his musical talent. See, for example, Jacob Katz, Tradition and Crisis: Jewish Society at the End of the Middle Ages, trans. Bernard Dov Cooperman (New York: New York University Press, 1993), 149. 118 See Joachim Stutschewsky, “Klezmorim” (Jewish Folk Musicians): History, Folklore, Compositions ( Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1959) [Heb]. 119 See Ben Yehezkel, Sefer ha-Ma`asiyot, vol. 5, 380–383. Historians of Hasidic tales did not relate to the musical motif dominant in this literature. See, for example, Yosef Dan, The Hasidic Story ( Jerusalem: Keter, 1975) [Heb]; Gedaliah Nigal, The Hasidic Tale, trans. Edward Levin (Oxford: Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2008).

Methodological Aspects

a) Preservation of a musical style in prayer differs from one community to another. At times, this diversity has been criticized. Erich Werner, a historian of Jewish music, noted: “I lament the tendency to adopt a style of dazzling trills and cantorial fillings in Ashkenazi synagogues at the expense of neglecting the ordinary simple style of the tradition.”120 b) Environmental influences were often a concern. Thinkers and mystics such as Judah he-Hasid (late twelfth–early thirteenth century), Yehuda Alharizi (thirteenth century), and Shlomo Alami (early fifteenth century) deplored the integration of erotic melodies and songs from the Gentile surroundings into the prayer version.121 This integration was at times natural.122 References to the musical influence of the surroundings recur in Hasidism (whose melodies drew on those then prevalent in Eastern Europe), among halakhists, and so forth. c) For some thinkers, prayer and music were connected in a philosophical dimension. R. Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook (1865–1935), for example, viewed prayer as the “most sublime shirah [poetry or song],”123 and its writers and reciters as “poets or singers.” His words convey the philosophical dimension of prayer as poetry and song, an approach that reaches a historical peak in his thought.124 Many studies conducted in music departments at universities and outside them discuss musical traditions in prayer styles. Prayer is an important motif in Jewish thought throughout history but, despite the natural connection between them, the musical traditions of cantorial music have seldom featured in these discussions. 6) The incorporation of the piyyut into the liturgical tradition, as noted, is longstanding. Besides their inclusion into the prayers, many other piyyutim were added to the selichot (supplication prayers before the

120 Erich Werner, “Promoting Liturgical Music in Israeli Synagogues,” Dukhan 2 (1991): 79 [Heb]. 121 See A. M. Haberman, “On Prayer,” Dukhan 6 (1965): 11 [Heb]; Yehuda Ratzabi, “Foreign Melodies in Songs and Piyyutim,” Tatslil 8 (1966): 8–13 [Heb]; Katz, Tradition and Crisis, 28–29. 122 See Simcha Assaf, Mekorot le-Toldot ha-Chinukh be-Israel: A Sourcebook for the History of Jewish Education from the Beginning of the Middle Ages to the Period of the Haskalah, ed. Shmuel Glick, vol. 1 (New York and Jerusalem: Jewish Theological Seminary, 2001), 215 [Heb]. 123 Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook, “On Prayer Matters,” in Otsrot ha-Rayha, vol. 2, 918. 124 See below, 249–283.

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Days of Awe), to the kinot (dirges) for fast days and mainly for the Ninth of Av, and more. There are musical aspects to this phenomenon. As liturgical poetry developed, the melody was at times placed at the center and the words remained marginal. From the sixteenth century onward, for example, piyyutim in North Africa were written according to the melodies. 7) At special times, we find dance as an expression of joy and celebration. Dancing was a custom at the end of the Sabbath, at weddings, and at festivals such as Simchat Torah and other events. Some examples of discussions on dancing are: • Sabbateanism: music and dancing were significant in the customs of the Sabbateans, who are described as “making songs and rhymes for themselves, with some leaping and romping”;125 • Hasidism: dance plays a unique role in Hasidism126 and was probably influenced by the Ukrainian and Polish surroundings; • Halakhah: the responsa literature, as noted, deals with the connection between tsni`ut and dancing; • Informal education: dance is a noteworthy component of the activity of youth movements. At times, the ideological and religious identity of movement members is also shaped through dancing. Poetry and music are important elements of dance and every discussion related to dance refers, by definition, also to music. Each one of the issues I noted deserves separate research and discussion. I will occasionally address these matters, which contributed directly to the strengthening of the musical component in Jewish religious life and, indirectly, to its appearance in philosophical and mystical writings. Social and cultural issues that are not distinctly Jewish and have an association with the musical field should also be added. One example is the emergence of a folk genre in the Middle Ages known as “women’s singing,” contrary to the patriarchal folk culture of the time.127 These issues, however, are a matter for another kind of musicological and social discussion using different research tools.

125 In the description of Kopel of Mezeritch in Isaiah Tishby, Paths of Faith and Heresy: Essays on Kabbalah and Sabbateanism ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1982), 204 [Heb]. 126 See below, 154–162. See also two articles in Dukhan 9 (1966): Zvi Friedhaber, “Mitsvah Dances—History and Forms,” 75–85 [Heb]; and Gurit Kadman, “Festive Dances of Jewish Communities: Explaining Ribbons,” 87–97 [Heb]. 127 Shulamit Shahar, Childhood in the Middle Ages, trans. Chaya Galai (London: Routledge, 1990), 175.

Methodological Aspects

***** In this chapter, I have considered several methodological aspects related to the musical motif in Jewish thought. As I have clarified, my concern is the phenomenological study of the musical motif in Jewish thought, meaning that I deal with this motif as a conscious and cultural expression rather than as a description of a consistent historical development. The musical component also builds Jewish religious consciousness, whether it is present between the lines or carves a path for itself to the forefront of thought. Occasionally, this component did become central, and my endeavor is to locate the musical intuitions of the thinkers and expose this musical component in their consciousness. I have also clarified that a phenomenological concern of this type is textual and analytical, that is, it relies mainly on the analysis of philosophical and kabbalistic texts. The following chapters will consider the musical aspect of several issues connected to Jewish philosophy seeking to outline a framework for the history of the musical component in Jewish thought.

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Assessing the Role of Music In his monumental treatise on the history of science, George Sarton (1884–1956) determined that the Greeks and the Chinese assessed music positively and viewed it as an important educational tool. Catholics were indifferent to music per se and viewed it solely as a means for the worship of God, whereas Muslims thought of it as dangerous and when they allowed its use, imposed significant limitations on it.1 Sarton did not address the attitude of Jews toward music. At present, we carefully avoid such generalizations and leave no room for questions about a specific and homogeneous “Jewish attitude” toward music nor about the attitude of Jews toward it. Clear-cut statements of this type are seen as imposing artificial frames on a wide spectrum of views and approaches as well as on dynamic intellectual and religious processes. In this chapter, therefore, I present different assessments of music in Jewish thought and try to avoid all-encompassing statements. My attempt is to clarify, directly and indirectly, the following questions regarding Jewish thought: Did recourse to music, for various needs, lead to its assessment as an intellectual field, or was music considered a purely technical craft?2 Music was also perceived as involving temptation and licentiousness. This negative aspect was the main impulse behind the religious attitude toward music as a form of leisure. Did music’s important qualities prove capable of overriding these negative aspects or was its assessment dictated by those aspects of moral openness? Following is a brief review of changing assessments of music as, on the one hand, a discipline used for learning the sciences and included among them

1 2

George Sarton, Introduction to the History of Science, vol. 3, Science and Learning in the Fourteenth Century (Baltimore: William and Wilkins, 1948), 164. Eric Werner and Isaiah Sonne, “The Philosophy and Theory of Music in Judaeo-Arabic Literature,” Hebrew Union College Annual 16 (1941): 251–319 and 17 (1942–1943): 511–572, here 16 (1941): 264.

Assessing the Role of Music

and, on the other, as one characterized mainly by the singing of piyyutim.3 My concern will be with issues exposing music as a theoretical and performative field. I begin with music as an area that requires systematic education and then proceed to deal with music’s place in the order of the sciences and to its scientific assessment. Next, I discuss a significant theological aspect of music—the attitude to piyyut and its composition—and then move on to the evaluation of music’s appeal, meaning its seductive aspect. Finally, I address music’s renewed standing given its place in aesthetic discussions in modern philosophy.

Musical Education The commitment to Scripture and to rabbinic sources precluded disregarding the need for music in religious life. Ancient sources, as noted, ascribe importance and powers to song, music, and dance. Moreover, educational approaches widespread in antiquity and in the Middle Ages viewed music as a required subject of study. The commitment to a set order in the learning of the sciences, as shown below, prevented any option of ignoring the need for a theoretical concern with music’s principles. This dual commitment, however, did not always dictate the actual assessment of music as a field requiring talent and professional training. Concern with systematic musical education, then, is not widespread in medieval and modern Jewish texts, although it was clear that this field required learning.

The Middle Ages and the Renaissance I begin with some brief remarks on musical education in the Middle Ages. It merits note that the comprehensive halakhic literature sometimes included guidebooks for cantors and for composers of piyyutim.4 My concern, however, is mainly the musical education of children and adolescents that, as reflected in various testimonies, was introduced in several places. In Spain, for example, learning to play an instrument was part of the curriculum. As shown below, theoretical aspects of music were a required subject in the study of the mathematical

3 4

To reiterate: I discuss singing and piyyutim only insofar as they are accompanied by melodies, so that, unless specifically noted otherwise, my focus is on the music. See, for example, Ephraim Kanarfogel, Jewish Education and Society in the High Middle Ages (Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press, 1992), 77.

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sciences. In his book Shevet Yehuda [The scepter of Judah], R. Shlomo ibn Verga (1460–1554) wrote in the name of King Alfonso: “Why would you teach your children to play music? You who are doomed to everlasting crying and mourning! Because the heavenly God proclaimed that you are evil and therefore scattered you, and He has not dealt thus with any other nation.”5 Plato’s political teachings entered Muslim thought in the tenth century through the work of Abû Nasr al-Fârâbî, who influenced Maimonides’ conception of the prophet philosopher. Particularly enriching for medieval Jewish rationalism was the translation of Averroes’s commentary on Plato’s Politeia [The republic]. The Arabic source of this work appears to have been lost and, consequently, only the Hebrew translation by R. Samuel ben Yehuda of Marseilles remains. Muslim philosophical literature, which left its imprint on Jewish thought at least until the end of the thirteenth century, did not know Aristotle’s Politics. Plato’s Politeia, then, was the source for the practical dimension of political science. Averroes’s commentary dealt also with the education of the guardians of the polis and of the philosopher-king, where musical education plays an important role, and he generally summarized Plato’s views on the topic without any additions. Following Plato, he determined that the study of music is meant for the “moral education” of the soul and, consequently, precedes the study of gymnastics.6 Averroes also summarized Plato’s claim that music must be directed to ensure the success of the educational process.7 Averroes commentary, as noted, became a canonic political text in Jewish thought, even though the sections on music were not particularly influential. In Italy, the musical education of youth was the task of private teachers. R. Yehuda Arieh Modena, for example, dealt with the teaching of music.8 Young girls learned to dance and to play an instrument.9 But Jewish texts from

According to Psalms 147:20. Azriel Shochat and Yitzhak Baer, eds., Sefer Shevet Yehuda ( Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1947), 47, lns. 25–27 [Heb]. Mentioned in Simcha Assaf, Mekorot le-Toldot ha-Chinukh be-Yisrael: A Sourcebook for the History of Jewish Education from the Beginning of the Middle Ages to the Period of the Haskalah, ed. Shmuel Glick, vol. 1 (New York and Jerusalem: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 2002), 24–28 (Hebrew numeration) [Heb]. 6 Plato, Politeia, book 2, 376. See E. I. J. Rosenthal, ed., Averroes’ Commentary on Plato’s Republic (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1956), 123, ln. 2E. The relevant sections of this commentary were also published in Israel Adler, RISM: Hebrew Writings concerning Music in Manuscripts and Printed Books: From Geonic Times Up to 1800 (Munich: G. Henle, 1975), 171, section 190, 102–111. 7 Plato, Politeia, book 3, 398; Rosenthal, Averroes’ Commentary, 132–134. 8 Assaf, Sourcebook, vol. 1, 27–28, and vol. 2, 205 (both Hebrew numeration). 9 Ibid., 257. See also below, 114. 5

Assessing the Role of Music

the Middle Ages and the modern period focusing on the systematic study of the theory of music are few, and playing an instrument was not a significant topic in them. Many of the discussions addressed the proper way of studying the holy texts. The balance between legal studies (Talmud, Halakhah) and spiritual concerns (faith, intention), and between metaphysical vs. scientific studies occupied thinkers over many generations, the study of music was not a serious concern.

The Modern Period The early modern period and the Haskalah are characterized, inter alia, by the legitimation of musical education and the enjoyment of music in folk and elitist culture,10 particularly in German culture. German primary schools, for example, introduced the study of singing as a subject.11 Musical education also spread elsewhere in Western Europe. R. Joseph Yuspa Hahn Nordlingen (1570–1637) of Frankfurt strongly forbade “the habit of the rich hiring musicians to teach their daughters to play.”12 In a 1731 sermon, R. Jacob Emden warns about this cultural aspect, which he pins on French influence: Indeed, as an adulterous wife who receives strangers instead of her husband,13 so do the rich of our people squander their wealth to teach their sons and daughters the French language to accustom them to merriment, frivolity, and profanity.14 Their heart is Japheth, as everyone knows, and all is a fruit and a product of that language, and even more so when you add to it the study of music, the two brokers of transgression.15

10 See Karl Erich Grözinger, Jüdisches Denken: Theologie, Philosophie, Mystik, vol. 3 (Frankfurt and New York: Campus, 2009), 42–44. 11 Mordechai Eliav, Jewish Education in Germany at the Time of the Haskalah and the Emancipation ( Jerusalem: Jewish Agency, 1960), index, s.v. “singing, study” [Heb]; Mordechai Zalkin, Modernization Processes in Jewish Education in Eastern Europe (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 2008), 151, 154 [Heb]. 12 Assaf, Sourcebook, vol. 1, 128. 13 According to Ezekiel 16:32. 14 See Rashi on Psalms 75:3. 15 According to PT Berakhot 1:5 (3c); Assaf, Sourcebook, vol. 1, 169. See also Shmuel Feiner, The Origins of Jewish Secularization in Eighteenth-Century Europe, trans. Chaya Naor (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2010), 46–47.

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Learning to dance and to play a musical instrument (not as a professional pursuit, such as a klezmer in Eastern Europe) was widespread in the German Jewish communities of the time. Ordinances issued in the communities of Altona, Hamburg, and Ansbach in the mid-eighteenth century included an explicit ban on learning to dance.16 But contemporaneous ordinances in Ferrara did allow mixed dancing to “a man and his wife, a father and son, a brother and sister, and one teaching them.”17 In this sense, German Jews acted as a catalyst of the musical ethos and of musical education during the modern period. When R. Yehiel Yaakov Weinberg (1884–1966) arrived in Germany from Eastern Europe as the First World War broke out, he found that women’s singing was accepted naturally. R. Weinberg, who directed the Hildesheimer Rabbinic Seminary in Berlin, dared to allow women to sing on the Sabbath (zemirot) because “in holy songs, the singing evokes holy feelings rather than sinful thoughts.”18 After an exchange with halakhists who had preceded him, R. Weinberg added that we must rely on distinguished Torah scholars in Ashkenaz, who were experts in the science of education and acquainted with the spirit of girls of that time, who attended schools and learned languages and sciences. They have a feeling of self-dignity and view the ban on their participation in holy singing as offensive and as an attempt to exclude them from the community. Women were therefore allowed to participate in the Sabbath singing. And we see and know that the Ashkenaz scholars were more successful in the education of young women than the scholars in other countries. In Ashkenaz, we saw highly educated women graduates who were god-fearing and devoted in their observance of the Jewish religion.19

16 Azriel Shochat, The Beginnings of the Haskalah among German Jewry ( Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1960), 39–40 [Heb]. By contrast, attending the opera and the theatre was forbidden only on the Sabbath (ibid., 38). 17 Assaf, Sourcebook, vol. 2, 356. See also the bibliography of Shmuel Glick, ibid., 542, note 76. 18 Yehiel Yaakov Weinberg, Responsa Sridei Esh, vol. 1 ( Jerusalem: Committee for the Publication of Rabbi Yehiel Yaakov Weinberg’s Writings, 1999), 218 [Heb]. See also above, 40. 19 Ibid. See also Marc B. Shapiro, Between the Yeshiva World and Modern Orthodoxy: The Life and Works of Rabbi Jehiel Jacob Weinberg (Oxford and Portland, OR: Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2007), 52–53.

Assessing the Role of Music

R. Weinberg did not hide his religious and educational motivation, including a sense that Judaism had reached a “crisis” in some countries, particularly Germany and France. He did not adjust easily to the cultural climate he encountered in Jewish communities in Germany, but he was aware of changes in the status of women and, ultimately, adapted to the new situation.20 R. Weinberg allowed women to sing in religious contexts (such as Sabbath songs), and religious youth movements such as Ezra probably relied on this ruling, which shaped the norms and open ethos in youth education. Besides these changes in the attitude toward music in the life of Jews in Germany, intensified musical involvement is also evident among Jews in Italy. Musical education was widespread in Italy, too, and many thinkers were also composers, but whereas German Jewry underwent a transformation with the Enlightenment and emancipation, Italian Jewry continued to endorse the open approach of the Renaissance legacy. The changed attitude toward music, then, occurred mainly in these two Jewish communities.

***** These are only landmarks on the course of musical education over the generations.21 Views on musical education were found to derive directly from music’s standing as a culture and a way of life. Music was thus a structured part of education, particularly in Renaissance Italy and in modern Germany. Philosophical grounds for this education were laid in medieval Provence and Spain as part of Plato’s political theory. The topic of musical education requires independent research, and my purpose here is to present the background for discussions on the standing of music.

20 See Tamar Ross, “Orthodoxy, Halakhah, and the Challenge of Feminism,” in Orthodox Judaism: New Perspectives, ed. Yosef Salmon, Aviezer Ravitzky, and Adam S. Ferziger ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2006), 243–246 [Heb]. 21 On musical education in religious Zionism, see the Hebrew version of the present volume—Dov Schwartz, Kinor Nishmati: Music in Jewish Thought (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2013), 243–246 [Heb].

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Music as a Science A significant component of music is its theoretical scientific aspects. This is the element that captivated ancient sages, who found the players’ display of their virtuosity less impressive than the parallels between musical theory and mathematics, physiology, and cosmology. Music was, henceforth, a science to be taught, and some even specifically asked for time to be assigned to it.22 For many years, this rationalist approach was dominant.

Music as a Field of Knowledge The rationalism of the Middle Ages, and largely that of the Renaissance as well, made knowledge the supreme value. Acquiring knowledge became an end in itself. Religion was presented as a means to intellectual perfection and religious and intellectual perfection were often equated, a worldview shared by many Muslim and Jewish rationalists. Music was perceived as a skill and as a field of knowledge that requires study. In ‘Ihsâ’ al-‘ulûm [Enumeration of the sciences] by the tenth-century philosopher Abû Nasr al-Fârâbî, which strongly influenced medieval Jewish thought, music is described as requiring knowledge: “Music is indeed a science, including knowledge of melodies, and of what is it they will be made up of and how, and what is the feature they should have to make their action more effective and more successful.”23 The terms science and great science referring to music appear recurrently in various contexts of Jewish thought.24 Often, these terms are used in contrast to

22 R. Shem-Tov Falaquera (thirteenth century) notes that becoming an expert in the science of music requires no less than six months: “And the Seeker studied the science of music [with the Musician] for six months.” Sefer ha-Mevakesh [The book of the seeker] (Hague, 1777), 87. Reprinted in Werner and Sonne, “The Philosophy and Theory of Music,” vol. 17, 548. On the influence of the “brethren of purity” on Falaquera see Amnon Shiloah, The Musical Legacy of Jewish Communities (Tel Aviv: Open University Press, 1985–1987), unit 3, 32–34 [Heb]. 23 Mauro Zonta, ed., La “Classificazione delle Scienze” di Al-Fārābī Nella Tradizione Ebraica (Torino: Zamorani, 1992), 19, lns. 26–28. Al-Fārābī wrote a special treatise on music. See Jean-Claude Chabrier, “Musical Science,” in Encyclopedia of the History of Arabic Science, vol. 2, ed. Roshdi Rashed (London: Routledge, 1996), 594–595. Al-Fãrãbi’s division of the sciences influenced encyclopedists and thinkers such as R. Shem-Tov ibn Falaquera and R. Kalonymus b. Kalonymus. On the influence of his description of music, see, for example, Amnon Shiloah, “Kalonymus ben Kalonymus: Ma’amar be-Mispar Hahokmot: Chapitre III, Paragraphe 6 (La Musique),” Yuval 2 (1971): 115–127. 24 See, for example, R. Abraham ibn Ezra’s commentary on Genesis 4:21.

Assessing the Role of Music

craft, which denotes technical knowledge.25 R. David Kimhi (known as Radak, 1160–1235), a biblical commentator and thinker who sided with the rationalist camp in the stormy disputes surrounding Maimonides’ writings, detailed three clear-cut arguments on the value of playing an instrument and of singing as a distinct scientific field. The hermeneutical context of these arguments was the mention of musical instruments in the Psalms: 1) music is a “great science”; 2) music “is included and enumerated among the secular sciences”;26 3) ways of producing sounds in various instruments “are known to scientists.”27 Radak included music in the definition of science without referring to subspecialties (theory, performance, and so forth). Generally, however, music was in a kind of mid-position. On the one hand, it was perceived as a science in the array of sciences, as discussed below. On the other, its place was among the mathematical sciences that, for Aristotelian rationalists, were only a preparation for physics and metaphysics, meaning their status was closer to that of a skill than to a science. Platonic tradition, which assigned essential importance to the mathematical sciences, including music, did not strike deep roots during this period. The dilemma between an independent science and one serving as a preparation, a platform, and a skill, is reflected in the work of R. Judah Moscato, the Renaissance commentator on The Kuzari. He pointed to the two terms used in The Kuzari regarding music—science and art.28 Moscato interpreted them as follows: He [Halevi] may thereby have intended to praise all aspects of music—not only the scientific part that depends on knowledge about the properties of harmony in its melodies, which is the

25 The term “the craft of music playing” recurs among thinkers as well. See, for example, R. Yitzhak Arama, Akedat Yitshak, with commentary by R. Hayyim Falalak (Pressburg, 1849), 267b [Heb]. 26 R. Kimhi may have taken exception to the inclusion of singing in the Apocrypha, as Maimonides did. See below, 64. 27 The commentary on Psalms 4:1 appeared in Radak, The Complete Commentary on Psalms, ed. Abraham Darom ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook), 17 [Heb]. On the inclusion of music in the order of the sciences, see below. 28 On The Kuzari, see below, 103.

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essence of this science and greatly to be praised,29 but also the artistic part used to sing and play. Or, let us say that all he said is about the performance of melodies and songs, which is sometimes called a science and sometimes a craft.30 Moscato solved the tension through the familiar split: theoretical knowledge of music is perceived as a “science” whereas musical performance is perceived as a “craft” (a technical activity). Moscato’s interpretation suits the view widespread in medieval rationalist culture, stating that theoretical knowledge represents a far greater achievement than practical knowledge. Musical performance is perceived as the lower layer of music. In the second interpretation in this passage, however, Moscato did not differentiate between two dimensions of music—theory and performance—and referred to both as science. Regardless of whether music is assessed as a science or a technical craft, musical skill was considered a virtue and an advantage. One instance of this approach is the inclusion of music in the list of sciences that Moses was fluent in according to R. David ibn Bilia, a rationalist active in Portugal at the beginning of the fourteenth century: And the making of trumpets31 will attest to the craft of music playing, as they confirmed when saying that Moses’ instrument was a reed flute,32 while they [the rabbis], of blessed memory, said that the essential feature [of the Temple music] was vocal singing.33 And they indeed said so because the essence of the musical craft is the melodies, and its purpose is to bring sounds closer to or further away from one another, creating a sound not too high or too low, until a melody is attained. And this is

29 According to Psalms 145:3; I Chronicles 16:25, and more. 30 Judah Moscato, The Kuzari with the Kol Yehuda commentary, vol. 2 (Warsaw, 1880), 64–65, 75a. 31 According to Numbers 10:12. 32 See Tosefta Arakhin 2:3; PT Sukkah 5:6 (55c); BT Sukkah 50b. R. Yom Tov ben Abraham Ishbili (known as Ritba) noted in his comment ad locum that the reed flute “is a very important musical instrument.” 33 See sources in the previous note.

Assessing the Role of Music

nowhere clearer than in vocal singing when it is the mouth that emits a sound, different from a musical instrument.34 Moses is praised mainly because he built musical instruments and produced a unique sound from them. Between the lines of this passage by ibn Bilia, we learn that the sound quality in the instruments that Moses built was close to the sound of the human voice, which is perceived as an object of imitation. Indeed, ibn Bilia’s list of characteristics does not include creative composition and virtuosity since medieval rationalist philosophers did not particularly appreciate these features. The assessment of music in this period was based mainly on its place in the array of the sciences, meaning its educational and scientific aspects, which determined its standing and its evaluation. The discussion that follows deals with this question.

The Order of Study The question of music’s assessment appeared in rationalist literature in connection with study methods. Philosophy in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance stressed the need for gradual and orderly study. The rationalist ideal at these times, as noted, was the acquisition of knowledge for its own sake, and, from this perspective, knowledge meant only the study of the sciences. Most rationalists believed that acquiring this knowledge was crucial because it was vital for the immortality of the soul and for eternal life, which depends on the knowledge acquired in one’s lifetime. Scientific knowledge must be structured, gradual, and systematic. Medieval rationalists were extremely critical of any deviations from the order of study. For example, to deal with zoology or botany, one must first acquire the sciences that precede them, such as logic and mathematics, and to deal with physics, one must first study the areas included in biology.35 Skipping

34 For a fragment of ibn Bilia’s lost commentary on the Torah, see Ari Ackerman, “A Magical Fragment of David ibn Bilia’s Me’or Enayim,” Kabbalah 1 (1996): 78. 35 See Dov Schwartz, Contradiction and Concealment in Medieval Jewish Thought (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2002), ch. 7 [Heb]. The order of the textbooks adapted to the various stages of learning appears in the volume by R. Shlomo ibn Abbas. See Dov Schwartz, “Meharsim, Talmudiyyim, and Anshei ha-Chokhmah: Judah Ben Samuel ibn Abbas’ Views and Preaching,” Tarbiz 62 (1993): 585–615 [Heb]. See also Dov Rappel, “Introduction to Ma`aseh Efod by Profiat Duran,” Sinai 100 (1987): 749–795 [Heb]. Music was

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one or another science is inefficient and results in flawed and useless knowledge. This skipping was at times called harisah (destruction).36 In antiquity, music was set as the fourth branch of the Quadrivium, referring to the four mathematical subjects (arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music). In antiquity and during the Renaissance, music was often viewed as associated with mathematics in the division of the sciences.37 At times, music was associated with medicine.38 The perception of music was that of a science dealing, above all, with “harmonies,” that is, with mathematical proportions. The intervals, the harmony, and the rest of music’s theoretical principles bring it close to mathematics and, for the ancients, also turn it into one of its branches. The concern with the mathematical dimensions of music at times led to the neglect of its primary function as a sensory experience—listening to sounds. The aura surrounding music among philosophers-scientists followed directly from this mathematical perception. R. Abraham ibn Ezra, the enigmatic twelfth-century exegete who was influenced by Neoplatonism and Neopythagoreanism, wrote: “Music is a splendid science because it derives from harmonies.”39 Apparently, that is also what R. Levi b. Gershom (known as Ralbag) had in mind when he referred to “the craft of musical instruments” as a “huge marvel.”40 R. Mordechai Komtiyano, among the most important fifteenth-century Byzantine sages,

36 37

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39 40

consistently included in various enumerations of the sciences. See, for example, Shiloah, “Kalonymus ben Kalonymus.” Some compared disorderly study to the hastening of the end. See Dov Schwartz, Messianism in Medieval Jewish Thought, trans. Batya Stein (Brighton, MA: Academic Studies Press, 2017), 98–99. See the lists of Harry A. Wolfson, “The Classification of Science in Medieval Jewish Philosophy,” in Hebrew Union College Jubilee Volume 1875–1925, ed. David Philipson et al. (Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College, 1925), 263–315; Dov Rappel, The Seven Sciences: The Dispute on Secular Learning in Judaism ( Jerusalem: Ministry of Education, 1990) [Heb]; Steven Harvey, ed., The Medieval Hebrew Encyclopedias of Science and Philosophy (Dordrecht: Klewer, 2000), index, s.v. “music.” At times, music did not appear in the study schedule, See, for example, Moshe Idel, “The Study Program of R. Yohanan Alemanno,” Tarbiz 48 (1979): 329 [Heb]. For the sources and development of this idea up to the Renaissance, see, for example, Cecilia C. Mettler, History of Medicine: A Correlative Text Arranged according to Subjects (Philadelphia: Blakiston, 1947), 498; Nancy G. Siraisi, The Clock and the Mirror: Girolamo Cardano and Renaissance Medicine (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1997), 51. See also below, 162–166. Abraham ibn Ezra, Shitah Aheret, on Genesis 4:21, ed. Asher Weisser ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1977), 172 [Heb]. R. Levi b. Gershom, The Pentateuch with the Commentary of R. Levi b. Gershom, Genesis 9:21, ed. Baruch Brenner and Eli Freiman (Ma`aleh Adumim: Ma`alyiot, 1993), 129 [Heb].

Assessing the Role of Music

added: “And it is known that the harmonies are counted and expressed in sounds and they [ Jubal and his group] built these instruments [lyre and pipe] to produce a sound according to the intervals.”41 The detailed order of sciences suggested by R. Judah b. Shmuel ibn Abbas places music between optics and mechanics.42 Both medieval Neoplatonists and contemporaneous Aristotelian rationalists accepted the structure of the quadrivium. This approach was not specific to Jewish thought, which absorbed it from the accepted European division of the sciences. Music and astronomy were also perceived as mutually related mathematical sciences. Some thinkers were particularly interested in the relationship between music and the motion of the spheres, which also unfolds in exact proportions and exemplary order. The relationship between music and mathematics was at times viewed as a virtue and at times not. Thinkers influenced by Neoplatonism or Neopythagoreanism emphasized the nobility of music, both as such and as a key to the understanding of the heavenly world. The tenthcentury thinker and linguist Dunash ibn Tamim, for example, claimed that the science of music “is the most honorable of the four mathematical sciences.”43 Aristotelian rationalists generally emphasized the instrumental status of music and therefore, as shown below, underrated its independent significance. My concern below is to offer a coherent presentation of the view ascribing importance to music in the context of the order of study. R. Yitzhak ibn Latif, a philosopher and kabbalist active in the thirteenth century, wrote about causes for the motion of the heavenly spheres that “this is a very subtle mystery dependent on a lofty matter related to ma`aseh bereshit and ma`aseh merkavah.”44 In Ginzei ha-Melekh, he wrote about the special place of music in the order of the sciences and its association with the motion of the spheres: This science [of Music] is also propaedeutic to the science of Astronomy. . . . which relates to the various movements of the spheres, that is, to the seven`2` planets and the movement of the all-encompassing eighth sphere. The propaedeutics are the knowledge of the analogy between the various tones and the

41 R. Mordechai Komtiyano, Commentary on the Torah, Paris Ms., 14a. On Jubal, see below, 75–76. 42 Assaf, Sourcebook, vol. 1, 68. On ibn Abbas, see Schwartz, “Meharsim, Talmudiyyim.” 43 Commentary on Sefer Yetsirah, cited in Nehemia Aloni, “The Term ‘Music’ in Our Literature in the Middle Ages,” Studies in Medieval Philology and Literature: Collected Papers, vol. 6 ( Jerusalem: Rubin Mass, 1992), 82 [Heb]. 44 Yitzhak ibn Latif, Sha`ar ha-Shamayim, Vatican Ms. 335, 241.

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various sides of the spherical movements, (involving as these do, direction) as well as speed, delay, reversal,45 deflection sidewards, approach to the center, and removal from the center,46 and involving also the various activities of their (respective) stars.47 In all of this, there is a subtle and profound analogy linking the two sciences. This analogy can only be grasped by those well acquainted with both sciences. Those who affirm the existence of spherical tones corresponding to music tones partly follow our suggestion.48 Ibn Latif presented music as a tool helping us to understand the motion of the spheres. This presentation fits the Pythagorean conception regarding the music of the spheres, which claims that the heavenly spheres (invisible empty balls made up of a transparent matter that, according to Greek and medieval astronomic theory, contain the stars) make sounds in their motion. The set proportions of the motion of the spheres appeared as the noblest expression of cosmic musical harmony and some, therefore, ascribed music to it. R. Abraham ibn Ezra, whom ibn Latif viewed as an authority, supported this approach.49 Ibn Latif, however, faced the adamant rejection of this theory by Aristotelian philosophers,50 whose prominent representative was Maimonides.51 Maimonides argued that, even though some talmudic sages had supported the theory about the music of the spheres, scientific truth refutes the notion that spheres make sounds in their motion. According to Maimonides, scientific truth is objective because it relies on proof (“demonstration”): “For everyone who argues in speculative matters does this according to the conclusions to

45 Astronomical tracking showed that stars at times move backward in their orbits, and astronomical models attempted to reconcile this phenomenon with the assumption that the spheres move in a recurring rhythmical pattern. 46 Astronomical models grappled with the fact that the orbit that the stars follow in their movement is not at a fixed distance from the center. 47 The entire passage deals with the movement of the spheres, that is, with astronomy. The “activities” of the stars, which are in the spheres, is apparently an allusion to astrology. Ibn Latif, then, is referring to the influence of the stars. 48 Werner and Sonne, “The Philosophy and Theory of Music,” vol. 17, 552. See also Ginzei ha-Melekh, printed in Adler, RISM, 171. 49 Shlomo Sela, Astrology and Biblical Commentary in Abraham ibn Ezra’s Thought (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 1999), 50, note 59 [Heb]. 50 See Aristotle’s discussion in De Caelo II, 9, 290b, 12 ff. Aristotle rejected this view as absurd. 51 On Maimonides’ view on music’s standing and influence, see below. On the Neopythagorean stance, see below, 185–195.

Assessing the Role of Music

which he was led by his speculation. Hence the conclusion whose demonstration is correct is believed.”52 Maimonides unquestionably supported Aristotle here and conclusively decided on this issue. Ibn Latif, therefore, referred to the sound of the spheres in cautious terms and without identifying with this idea,53 while conveying his appreciation of music in its location in the order of the sciences. Ibn Latif emphasized that music was preparation for knowledge of the noble aspects of nature and the material cosmos. Many medieval rationalists, as noted, refrained from mentioning the noble aspect, and emphasized the aspect of music as a preparation for the acquisition of the sciences and a tool for the attainment of utilitarian ends (healing, serenity, joy, and so forth). The reference to music as exerting physiological and psychological influence undermined its scientific prestige according to its perception by medieval rationalists; henceforth, music was not a science representing cosmic order and became an area of only instrumental importance. Medieval rationalist writings presented and justified this attitude. One example is the use of the quadrivium in the writings of R. Levi b. Abraham, a Provençal thinker and preacher active at the end of the thirteenth century who was extremely controversial. R. Levi compared the branches of the quadrivium to the four wells dug by Isaac, and wrote on music as follows: The science of music [chokhmat ha-nigun] is based on harmonies and made up of mathematical elements and measures. It [music] belongs to a quantitative category because it is made from the cutting and movement of air manifest in the weight and measure of instruments, some artificial and some natural. The spirit, whose nature is air, will find pleasure in this. And the spirit, as the substrate of the soul, will move the body and change it according to the music. The resulting benefit of this wisdom [chokhmah] is that, with the pleasantness of music, the prophets would awaken the wise soul and strengthen its power to receive the holy spirit. Song would have been unnecessary had it not been for the animative soul and its mate [the vegetative soul]. Since song is an act of imagination, it will bring greater pleasure

52 Maimonides, The Guide of the Perplexed, trans. Shlomo Pines (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1974), II:8, 267. 53 This hesitation also characterizes R. Judah Moscato’s view (see ch. 5 below). Maimonides’ stance and authority precluded unquestioned acceptance of the Pythagorean theory.

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to young men and women as well as to children, and generally to all those lacking in reason.54 R. Levi b. Abraham repeated the statement that music drives the natural spirit. Music and medicine indeed meet on this matter: according to Galen, the spirit (pneuma) that sustains the physiological activity of the body works according to pulses.55 The pneuma rhythmically moves the blood in the veins and arteries. The association with music, based on rhythm, is thus a necessary aspect of its activity. Avicenna had already noted in the Canon, “You should know that there is music in the natural pulse.”56 Music, then, is related to a vital physical dimension and characterizes its activity but lacks a direct connection to its intellectual dimension. The influence on the mental and intellectual dimensions is only indirect and limited to psychological advantages (concentration, release from depressive moods, and so forth). R. Levi clarified that music acts on the imagination. Medieval rationalists viewed the imagination as a mental faculty that could be harmful to the intellect and, therefore, R. Levi ascribed it to the lower classes. R. Yitzhak ibn Latif and R. Levi b. Abraham, as noted, represent the various perspectives of the place of music as one of the sciences. We find, then, that medieval rationalists had reservations about music. Even though they could not ignore its instrumental performative value as a psychological and medical tool57 or its role as a theoretical science in the order of the sciences, most of them preferred not to channel their work into musical theory. Yet, music was never at the center of the stormy disputes on philosophy and the sciences conducted over centuries.58 Musical theory was not perceived as a distinct sign of rationalism and, in this sense, music’s status was quite

54 Levi ben Abraham, Liviyat Hen: The Quality of Prophecy and the Secrets of the Torah, ed. Howard Kreisel (Beer Sheva: Ben-Gurion University of the Negev, 2007), 680–681 [Heb]. 55 See, for example, Charles Singer, ed., Galen: On Anatomical Procedures (London: Oxford University Press, 1956), 176. 56 Werner and Sonne, “The Philosophy and Theory of Music,” vol. 17, 555. See also Adler, RISM, 113, 175, 181, 183, 185. See the discussion in Werner and Sonne, “The Philosophy and Theory of Music,” vol. 16, 274. 57 See below, 146–154. 58 Records exist of disputes that were followed by bans during the thirteenth century. Occasionally, disputes arose over the legitimacy of a concern with philosophy and of maintaining balance when studying “outside” sciences. Note that R. Eliezer Ashkenazi, who was active in the sixteenth century, included music among the sciences that are not harmful to theology but entail “a waste of time.” See below, 73; and see Jacob Elbaum, Openness and Insularity: Late Sixteenth-Century Jewish Literature in Poland and Ashkenaz ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1990), 167 [Heb]. See also Joseph Hacker, “Patterns of the Intellectual Activity of Ottoman Jewry in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries,” Tarbiz 53 (1984): 587–591 [Heb].

Assessing the Role of Music

complex. The prestigious status of its theoretical dimension reflected its closeness to mathematics and its anchoring in the cosmic order, whereas its performative dimension was at times perceived as frivolous and merely instrumental. Music did not pave its way to the center of rationalist consciousness.

The Piyyut Controversy The role of music in religious ritual affects its standing. Synagogues had preserved musical traditions such as biblical cantillations and the sung recitation of prayers, but musical creativity transcended these traditions. The many piyyutim added to the set prayers enriched them with new sounds. Rationalists, however, did not always embrace this poetic creativity. For many of them, what mattered was the text rather than the religious experience, and they were not particularly impressed with the vitality, the enthusiasm, and the musicality typical of liturgical and poetic creativity or, at least, not at the expense of the text’s philosophical implications, as shown below. The present discussion deals with controversies over the texts of the piyyutim. Casting doubt on the legitimacy of the piyyut indirectly affected the standing of the poet and the musical aspect of the piyyut. The musical dimension of the piyyut is important and marks a crucial difference with the set prayers.59 The piyyut follows the melodies and many places preserve the ancient tradition of cantors accompanying the prayer with pleasant melodies that they had composed themselves. Philosophical objections to the contents of the piyyut threatened to weaken its standing, as shown below.

Criticism: Maimonides’ Approach R. Levi b. Abraham and other thinkers belittled the value of music and conveyed reservations about its influence. This stance represents a rationalist tradition directly or indirectly resting on Maimonides who, in The Guide, was extremely critical of piyyutim. The piyyut and religious poetry were perceived as powerful

59 See, for example, Yosef Tobi, “The Role of Music in the Transition from Prayer to Piyyut,” in Piyyut in Tradition, vol. 2, ed. Binyamin Bar-Tikva and Ephraim Hazan (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2000), 209–229 [Heb]. According to Tobi, “the inclusion of the musical motif in prayers led to the development of the piyyut” (ibid., 227).

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theological tools. The worship of God includes his praise, and praise is delivered through piyyut and poetry. The Ashkenaz pietists’ “hymn of unity” reads: Even if all men were priests, Levites singing with joy, and if all the trees in Eden and in all forests were lyres and pipes for songs . . . they would not suffice to worship and acclaim the King of Glory.60 Poetry and music were perceived as a way of praising God and as a form of worship. The words of this hymn, composed in the mid-twelfth century, convey initial traces of the perception of the divinity among Ashkenaz pietists, and the theological dimension (references to God’s presence, divine glory, and more) is prominent in the poetry.61 Medieval rationalists, however, and above all Maimonides, were not pleased with the glorification of God in piyyutim. Maimonides was not the first to express misgivings about piyyutim and religious poetry. R. Abraham ibn Ezra explicitly determined: “It is forbidden for a person to pray and introduce in his prayer piyyutim whose main meaning he does not understand. One should not trust the author’s original wish since ‘there is no man who never sins,’62 or the copyists sinned.”63 Over the years, criticism also targeted the excessive length of prayers due to the inclusion of piyyutim.64 Maimonides’ critique, however, did not touch on the actual understanding of the piyyut, its inclusion in the prayers, or its exaggerated reliance on aggadic sources, but on its theological implications. Because of Maimonides’ authority, his critique profoundly influenced Jewish rationalism in the Middle Ages and the early modern period. Some of his critical remarks follow:

60 Shirei ha-Yichud ve-ha-Kavod, ed. Abraham Haberman ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1948), 14, lns. 13–17. See also Abraham Epstein, “R. Shmuel he-Hasid son of R. Kalonymus,” in The Religious and Social Ideas of Jewish Pietists in Medieval Germany: Collected Essays, ed. Ivan G. Marcus ( Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center for Jewish History, 1986), 41–42 [Heb]. Epstein’s essay appeared originally in Hagoren 4 (1963): 81–101. 61 See Yosef Dan, The Esoteric Theology of Ashkenazi Hasidism ( Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1968), 48 [Heb]. See also ibid., 171–178. 62 According to Ecclesiastes 7:20. 63 Maimonides’ commentary on Ecclesiastes 5:1. See Aharon Mirsky, Ha-Piyyut: The Development of Post-Biblical Poetry in Erets Israel and the Diaspora ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1990), 209 [Heb]. 64 On R. Yehuda Alharizi and R. Yair Bachrach, see Shiloah, The Musical Legacy of Jewish Communities, unit 4, 12–13.

Assessing the Role of Music

This kind of license [to interpret texts that anthropomorphize God] is frequently taken by poets and preachers65 or such as think that what they speak is poetry, so that the utterances of some of them constitute an absolute denial of faith, while other utterances contain such rubbish and such perverse imaginings as to make men laugh when they hear them, on account of the nature of these utterances, and to make them weep when they consider that these utterances are applied to God, may He be magnified and glorified.66 Maimonides’ critique, as noted, had distinct theological causes—the anthropomorphizing of God and a distorted understanding of the divine attributes.67 Poets describe God and his relationships with people out of emotional and experiential involvement and, therefore, they also use material images taken from their day-to-day experience. Maimonides unequivocally determined that whoever maintains that God has a body is one of the heretics and has no share in the world to come.68 According to Maimonides, the creativity of the piyyut and its association with imagination is a further weakness.69 To reiterate: Maimonides was referring to the texts of these piyyutim and not necessarily to the melody or the singing and yet, over the centuries, he was perceived as criticizing singing, which developed around these piyyutim. Maimonides seldom discussed music. But, given his crucial influence on Jewish thought, the references to music in his various writings deserve brief mention here.70 1) In his commentary on M. Avot 1:16, Maimonides was quite restrained and balanced and claimed that a song is to be examined according to its content rather than according to its language (Arabic or Hebrew).

65 In the original: Maimonides, Dalālat al-Ha’irīn, ed. Salomon Munk and I. Yoel ( Jerusalem: Yunovits, 1931), 96, ln. 20. In the rendition of Michael Schwarz (Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University Press, 2002), 150—“poets and preachers.” 66 Guide, I:59, 141. 67 See, for example, David Kaufmann, Geschichte der Attributenlehre in der Jüdischen Religionsphilosophie des Mittelalters von Saadja bis Maimûni (Gotha: F. A. Perthes, 1877), 450–451. 68 Maimonides, Code, Laws of Repentance 3:6–7. 69 See Zev Harvey, “Maimonides and Spinoza on the Knowledge of Good and Evil,” Iyyun 28 (1978): 167–185 [Heb]; José Faur, Homo Mysticus: A Guide to Maimonides’ Guide for the Perplexed (Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 1998), 66–67. 70 See Amnon Shiloah, “Maïmonide et la musique,” in Présence juive au Maghreb: Hommage à Haïm Zafrani, ed. Nicholas S. Serfaty and Joseph Tedghi (Paris: Bouchene, 2004), 497–506.

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Acknowledging the power and influence of music, he held it should be assessed as we assess suitable and unsuitable speech.71 2) In his commentary on Tractate Sanhedrin (Introduction to Perek Chelek) Maimonides included the Sifrei ha-Nigun [Books of music]72 (M. Sanhedrin 10:1) among the “heretical books” (sifrei ha-minim) and stated about them: “They serve no purpose and are a waste of time in frivolous amusement.” 3) In Milot ha-Higayon, part 14, Maimonides classified music according to the quadrivium.73 In his view, then, the theoretical concern with music was pedagogically important. 4) In his famous responsum to the Jews of Aleppo, Maimonides banned secular poetry and music playing: “It is known that singing and playing are all forbidden, even when they do not include any words. . . . (6) There is no difference between listening to a song, or to string music, or listening to melodies without [words]—anything that brings joy and excitement to the soul is forbidden.”74 5) A via negativa corroboration can be added to this list: Maimonides devoted no conceptual or halakhic discussion to the biblical cantillations.75 71 Moses Maimonides, Commentary on the Mishnah, ed. Yosef Qafih ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1965) 419 [Heb]. Maimonides preceded his “Epistle to Yemen,” for example, with rhymed poetry. Note also that several poems of dispute were written during the thirteenthcentury polemics on Maimonides’ writings. See, for example, Mirsky, Ha-Piyyut, 583. 72 This is the rationalist translation. In the Shilat and Qafih editions, both translators preferred “the Books of Songs.” The original term in Kitāb al-aghānī (Maimonides, Commentary on the Mishnah, 210) can be rendered as both shir (poem) and zemer (poem accompanied by tune). 73 See Joel L. Kraemer, “Maimonides on the Philosophic Science in His Treatise on the Art of Logic,” in Perspectives on Maimonides: Philosophical and Historical Studies, ed. Joel L. Kraemer (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991), 87. 74 R. Moses ben Maimon, Responsa, ed. Joshua Blau, vol. 2 ( Jerusalem: Rubin Mass, 2014), #224, 398 [Heb]. Maimonides took into account in this ruling the role of music in the leisure culture of the surrounding Muslim society and, in its wake, issued this sweeping prohibition. For a discussion of various aspects of Maimonides’ responsum and its congruence with other assessments of music in his thought, see, for example, Boaz Cohen, Law and Tradition in Judaism (New York: Ktav, 1959), 167–181; Joseph Yahalom, “Poetry and Society in Egypt: Their Relationship as Reflected in the Attitude toward the Secular Poetry of Judah Halevi,” Zion 45 (1980): 287–288 [Heb]; Yaakov S. Levinger, Maimonides as Philosopher and Codifier ( Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1990), 151 [Heb]; Amnon Shiloah, “The Religious-Popular Songs of R. Yosef Haim,” in A Hearing Heart: Jubilee Volume in Honor of Avigdor Herzog, ed. Yitzhak S. Recanati ( Jerusalem: Renanot, 2005), 221 [Heb]. On Maimonides’ refutation of the music of the spheres notion, see above. 75 See E. Werner and J. Kravitz, “The Silence of Maimonides,” PAAJR 53 (1986): 179–201.

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Maimonides formulated principles concerning the attitude toward music that rationalists and halakhists endorsed over many years, as follows: 1) the study of music’s theoretical dimension is necessary to reach intellectual perfection; 2) secular music is forbidden and is, at most, a waste of time; 3) religious music where the text is an integral component should be approached with great caution, and if its words deprecate rationalist principles, it must be rejected.76 Over time, the standing of piyyutim and their inclusion within set prayers became a topic of halakhic discussion.77 From the perspective of Jewish theology, however, the strong criticism of The Guide of the Perplexed posed a fundamental problem.78 In the eyes of the intellectual elite, the piyyut was henceforth doomed. Although music had not been the main target of Maimonides’ attack in that text, in the thinkers’ consciousness it became tied to singing and liturgical poetry. Hereafter, medieval rationalists harbored reservations not only about poetry but also about singing and music, which was a rather obvious

76 Usually, Maimonides related to the text. But the separation between poetry and music is merely formal. In Code, Laws of Fasts 5:14 (see The Book of Seasons, trans. Solomon Gandz and Hyman Klein, in The Code of Maimonides [New Haven: Yale University Press, 1961]), he writes: “It has long been customary, however, throughout Israel, to recite words of praise and sing songs of thanksgiving to God, and the like, over wine.” See also David Stav, Bein ha-Zmanim: Leisure and Recreation from a Jewish Perspective (Tel Aviv: Miskal, 2012), 173 [Heb]. On the background of piyyutim accompanied by Arab melodies in Maimonides’ surroundings, see, for example Eliyahu Ashtor, The Jews of Moslem Spain, vol. 3, trans. Aaron Klein and Jenny Machowitz Klein (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1984), 150–152. 77 Israel M. Goodman, The Life and Times of Rabbi David ibn Abi Zimra: A Social, Economic, and Cultural Study of Jewish Life in the Ottoman Empire in the 15th and 16th Centuries as Reflected in the Responsa of the RDBZ (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1970), 104–105. 78 See, for example, Alexander Altmann, “Maimonides’ Attitude toward Jewish Mysticism,” in Studies in Jewish Thought: An Anthology of German Jewish Scholarship, ed. Alfred Jospe (Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press, 1981), 201; Isadore Twersky, Introduction to the Code of Maimonides (Mishneh Torah) (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1980), 249–251; Gerald J. Blidstein, Prayer in Maimonidean Halakhah ( Jerusalem: Bialik Institute; and Beer Sheva: Ben-Gurion University of the Negev Press, 1994), 129–131 [Heb]; Judith Dishon, “Judah Alharizi and the Dispute about Reciting Piyyutim on the Sabbath,” in Piyyut in Tradition, vol. 2, ed. Binyamin Bar-Tikva and Ephraim Hazan (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2000), 97–110 [Heb].

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development given that the religious music composed in medieval Spain and Provence was required mainly for liturgical purposes.79

Developments In more conservative areas, the Maimonidean critique failed to strike roots. In Ashkenaz, for example, the interpretation of piyyutim was part of the study method.80 In Spain, R. Joseph Albo claimed in the early fifteenth century that piyyutim and their melodies fit the prayer and add to it dimensions of pleasantness and understanding: For this reason, songs and piyyutim and supplications in verse have been chosen for the prayers because all the requirements mentioned are contained in them, and they correspond to musical rhythm besides, for the definition of a poem is that it is a composition in which the parts bear relation to and have connection with each other, and it expresses the idea of the composer in brief and pleasant words, metrically arranged in accordance with musical rhythm.81 The question about the standing of piyyutim recurred at the time of the Haskalah and in twentieth-century thought. Consider the following examples. Yitzhak Shmuel Reggio (known as Yashar, 1784–1855), an Italian maskil, ascribed the book Kol Sakhal, which is extremely critical of the Oral Law, to R. Yehuda Arieh Modena. Yashar published the book and added many glosses. Modena’s public image as a reformer was important to mid-nineteenth-century maskilim.82 The author of Kol Sakhal criticized the length and the text of the prayer and argued that, instead of the literal recitation of the Shem`a passages,

79 See, for example, Amnon Shiloah, “The Development of Jewish Liturgical Singing in Spain,” in Moreshet Sepharad: The Sephardi Legacy, vol. 2, ed. Haim Beinart ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1992), 423–437. 80 See, for example, Assaf, Sourcebook, vol. 1, 121; Kanarfogel, Jewish Education and Society. 81 Joseph Albo, Sefer ha-Ikkarim: Book of Principles, vol. 4, part 1 (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society of America, 1930), 211. 82 See Shmuel Feiner, Haskalah and History: The Emergence of a Modern Jewish Awareness of the Past ( Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center for Jewish History, 1995), 208 [Heb]. Several scholars have considered the attribution of Kol Sakhal to Modena. See Howard Adelman, “Leon Modena, Homo Ludens, and Kol Sakhal,” in The Lion Shall Roar: Leon Modena and His World, ed. David Malkiel ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2003), 91–105 [Heb].

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the text should have summarized the foundations of faith in them in modern language. Besides their length, these passages are also worded as commands that, theologically, are irrelevant. In his glosses on Kol Sakhal, however, Yashar did not justify this critique and commented as follows: The heart will be more deeply affected when remembering divine speech in its actual form than in an imagined human version carved out from its own matter.83 When pronouncing the words “and you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might” (Deuteronomy 6:5) or “You shall therefore lay up these words of mine in your heart and in your soul” (Deuteronomy 11:18), one will imagine hearing God’s voice commanding this and will be more disposed to place God’s words in his heart than if he had read a hundred piyyutim on yotsrot, ofanim, and zulatot, or one thousand kerovot and selichot and so forth, despite the pleasantness and rhythm and rhymes sometimes found in them and despite the sweetness of the singing voice when the minstrel played.84 Given that affecting [the reader] is of the essence, setting the reading of the passages themselves, even though they are phrased as commands, was the right decision because pure and exalted metaphors are so sublime that no human can ever reach their height.85 Yashar claims that the aesthetic and experiential dimension of the divine text is far more sublime than the aesthetic dimension of the piyyut. The words of the revelation imbue the text with the sense of a living dialogue. The words are then preferable to the melody and, therefore, the obligation to recite the Shem`a should not be changed. Yashar downgraded piyyutim and the musical traditions that accompanied them (words and melody) that, in his view, were only meant to evoke feelings. Yashar’s discussions addressed the psychological effectiveness of the piyyut, and his view was close to that of Maimonides but for entirely different reasons. R. Samson Raphael Hirsch also viewed piyyutim as means for evoking feelings and experiences and claimed they were a direct result of persecutions and exile. For him, the words of the prayer were no longer sufficient to create an

83 See the Vitry Machzor, #452. 84 According to II Kings 3:15. Reference is to the names of various prayers. 85 Yashar, Bechinat ha-Kabbalah (Gorizia, 1982), 156.

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experience in the worshippers’ consciousness. The aim of the piyyut, then, is to clarify and enliven the prayers’ contents, bringing them closer to the worshippers’ consciousness through metaphors and a familiar language. Whereas Yashar had held that the actual text of the revelation is far preferable to that of any piyyut, Hirsch held that the piyyut endows prayers that are currently irrelevant with an experiential dimension. R. Hirsch pointed out that, formerly, the piyyut had suited a public fluent in the language of the Midrash and in the sources hinted in its words. At present, when such fluency is rare, there are no poets of stature capable of writing such piyyutim. Their influence on worshipers has also worn away: “The spirit of Jewish knowledge has fled from Israel’s sons, so that the piyyutim cannot find the circle of worshippers that they implicitly assume.”86 In his view, the value of the piyyut as such has not lessened, but the reservations of halakhists about them relate to their estrangement from modern times. R. Hirsch profoundly influenced the thought of his grandson, R. Isaac Breuer (1883–1946), a spiritual and political leader of Agudat Israel. In his last book, Der Neue Kusari [The new Kuzari], Breuer determined that only piyyutim can fully exhaust the meaning of Rosh ha-Shanah.87 Like Maimonides in his time, Leo Baeck (1873–1956), a prominent leader of Reform Judaism in Germany, discussed the theological meaning of the piyyut but reached the opposite conclusion. According to his liberal outlook, Baeck assumed in The Essence of Judaism that the immanent constitutive foundation of Judaism is development. Contrary to the dogmatic religions where principles were determined a priori, Jewish faith is dynamic. This dynamism is evident in the determinations of the rabbis in both the Palestinian and Babylonian Talmud, who were involved in ceaseless dialogue and controversy, and in the philosophical discussions in the Middle Ages, which opened to the outside, meaning to Muslim and to Christian culture. However, according to Baeck, development characterizes Scripture as well. The Bible reflects the gradual disavowal of mythology in its course toward

86 Samson Raphael Hirsch, Horeb: A Philosophy of Jewish Laws and Observances, trans. Isidor Grunfeld (New York: Soncino, 1962), 110. Note that R. Hirsch used the terms Akord and Grundton to denote the musical dimension of reciting piyyutim. See Samson Raphael Hirsch, Horev: Versuche über Jissroéls Pflichten in der Zerstreuungh (Altona: J. F. Hammerich, 1837), 696–697. 87 Isaac Breuer, Der Neue Kusari: Ein Weg zum Judentum (Frankfurt: Verlag der RabbinerHirsch-Gesellschaft, 1934), 190–193. On the classification of music in this work, see below, 88–89. André Neher noted that the ritual time marking the beginning of the year in ancient Egypt is characterized by singing. See André Neher, The Prophetic Existence, trans. William Wolf (South Brunswick, NJ: A. S. Barnes, 1969), 73–75.

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ethical monotheism. The piyyut reflects the transition from mythical thinking to the abstract perception of God. Baeck writes: The Prophets, the singers, the narrators of the Bible, and some of their successors too, were seers, they were poets;88 they too told of growth and fluctuation in nature, of the stream of history and its fires. Everything constituted for them a revelation of God, of the invisible, of Him who is exalted above every image. But they were impelled by their poetic spirit to see how the unseen entered the visible world, how the imageless shaped and created.89 The transition is from a mythological god identified with the forces of nature to the abstract God—a complex step facing hard conceptual hurdles. The theological and philosophical difficulty is how to explain matter’s origin in the spirit and the path from unity to multiplicity: abject and loathsome matter cannot, ostensibly, emerge from a spiritual and abstract source such as God. God is defined as an absolute (homogeneous) unity and as the source of the many details found in the spiritual and material worlds. The conception of the one spiritual God who creates material diversified nature is not easy to grasp. The piyyut, then, enables acceptance of abstract monotheism: “This plastic poetry springs from an urge towards religious seeking and meditation. . . . All seeking, in which thought endeavours to approach God by words, resolves itself into religious poetry, into Hagada, as it is called in Jewish oral tradition.”90 Both Maimonides and Baeck confronted the concretizing character of the piyyut but, contrary to Maimonides who condemned it, Baeck praised it. The piyyut conveys how humans strive to affirm the negation of the attributes—presenting God as ineffable while preserving the religious experience of standing before God. Resonating in the piyyut, Maimonides hears echoes of the mythical approach evident in the literal biblical texts that concretize God. For Baeck, by contrast, the piyyut affords release from the fetters of myth.

88 Baeck related to the Bible as a prophetic creation, and the piyyut reflects the prophetic way. See also Michael Meir, “A Religious Philosophy for Distressing Times,” in Leo Baeck: Leadership and Thought 1933–1945, ed. Avraham Barkai ( Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center for Jewish History, 2000), 74–75 [Heb]. 89 Leo Baeck, The Essence of Judaism, trans. Victor Grubwieser and Leonard Pearl (London: MacMillan, 1936), 87. 90 Ibid., 87–88.

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In the phenomenological philosophy he developed during the 1940s, R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik (1903–1993) offers a new and complex analysis of Maimonides’ negative view of the piyyut. In that stormy period, R. Soloveitchik examined his social and political identity in the American Jewish community. In time, he became the honorary president of the Mizrachi in the United States and its spiritual leader. His phenomenological thought was an attempt to describe the foundations and stages of religious consciousness, outlining the contours of the religious experience. His sources were religious phenomenological sources, such as the writings of Rudolf Otto and Max Scheler. R. Soloveitchik wrote several phenomenological tractates; among the most significant are And from There You Shall Seek and The Halakhic Mind. He also wrote Halakhic Man, where he deviated from the phenomenological path and attempted to immortalize the quintessential model of the Lithuanian yeshiva heads destroyed in the Holocaust. Twice in his 1940s writings, R. Soloveitchik emphasized that Maimonides had failed in his struggle against the piyyut, which enjoys the support of various religious types in Judaism, each for its own reasons. The first time was in The Halakhic Mind. This work views the piyyut and religious poetry as the victory of the qualitative approach over the scientific-quantitative method as the sole and genuine path to knowledge. The Halakhic Mind deals with the knowledge and ways of life of the homo religiosus, contrasting them in many ways with those of the scientist. R. Soloveitchik endorsed the conventionalist approach in the philosophy of science to explain the activity of the scientist, which is characterized by “the replication of reality”: to explain the diversified qualitative reality, scientists develop a parallel and self-enclosed mathematical-physical order. By contrast, homo religiosus seeks knowledge of the qualitative world. Religious philosophy develops an alternative epistemic approach that, rather than replicating reality, strives to understand its mysteries and laws from within. R. Soloveitchik writes: “The homo religiosus moves in a concrete world full of color and sound. He lives in his immediate, qualitative environment, not in a scientifically constructed cosmos. . . . The homo religiosus is unable to bifurcate reality; the world he knows is identical with the world he experiences.”91 From his perspective, the entrenchment of piyyutim in the set prayers of homo religiosus proves that conventionalism as the exclusive approach of the philosophy of science has collapsed. Homo religiosus is intrigued when hearing real,

91 Joseph B. Soloveitchik, The Halakhic Mind: An Essay on Jewish Tradition and Modern Thought (London: Collier Macmillan, 1986), 40.

Assessing the Role of Music

actual sounds and views knowledge of them as crucially important. Worshippers “have ignored the teaching of their master, Maimonides, and still sing hymns teeming with poetic refrain.”92 They surrender themselves to the piyyut and to religious poetry and, rather than detaching themselves from sounds to create an abstract world leaving no room for concretization, they experience qualitative poetry and music as they are. R. Soloveitchik addressed the question of singing and piyyutim for the second time in Halakhic Man. This ideal type views the entry of the piyyut into the order of the liturgy as a victory of the scientific-quantitative approach. R. Soloveitchik refers to piyyutim that are part of the set prayers, common in many communities: Halakhic man never accepted the ruling of Maimonides opposing the recital of piyyutim, the liturgical poems and songs of praise. Go forth and learn what the Guide sought to do to the piyyutim of Israel! “Thus what we do [in prayer] is not like what is done by the truly ignorant who spoke at great length and spent great efforts on prayers that they composed and on sermons that they compiled. . . . In these prayers and sermons they predicate of God qualitative attributions that, if predicated of a human individual, would designate a deficiency in him. . . . This kind of license is frequently taken by poets and preachers or such as think what they speak is poetry, so that the utterances of some . . . contain rubbish and perverse imaginings.”93 Nevertheless, on the High Holidays the community of Israel, singing the hymns of unity and glory, reaches out to its Creator.94 And when the Divine Presence winks at us from behind the fading rays of the setting sun and its smile bears within it forgiveness and pardon, we weave a “royal crown” of praise for the Atik Yomin, the Ancient One.95 And in moments of divine mercy and grace,96 in times of spiritual ecstasy and exaltation,

92 Ibid., 39. 93 Maimonides, Guide I:59. 94 For a brief discussion of the conceptual and theological characteristics of the hymn of unity, see above, 62–63. 95 The reference is to the piyyut Keter Malkhut by R. Shlomo ibn Gabirol, which became an inseparable part of the Yom Kippur prayer. 96 According to Psalms 69:14.

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when our entire existence thirsts for the living God,97 we recite many piyyutim and hymns, and we disregard the strictures of the philosophical midrash concerning the problem of negative attributes.98 The Halakhah does not deem it necessary to reckon with speculative concepts and very fine, subtle abstractions on one hand and vague feelings, obscure experiences, inchoate affections, and elusive subjectivity on the other. It determines law and judgment in Israel.99 In R. Soloveitchik’s writings, Halakhah acts as the factor regulating and balancing a stormy religious consciousness. So, there is no fear that the order of the prayer or the piyyutim in it will harm the faith of the worshipper and the poet. In this context, halakhic man’s affirmation of piyyut can be understood in two ways. 1) The passionate feelings that emerge in Yom Kippur, masterfully depicted here, go through a kind of quantification and fixation process in their appearance in the prayers, when subjective singing and abstract feelings appear in them in set doses. 2) The consciousness of halakhic man does not fear a takeover of the epistemic layer by the psychological-emotional one because he is sure they are clearly split and no blurring of borders is possible. Moreover, he is also sure he will not perceive the divine attributes in a positive and distorted fashion. Singing and music enthrall religious consciousness, and Halakhah regulates them by dividing them into fixed and rhythmical times. As R. Soloveitchik claims, Halakhah allows singing and music and does not capitulate to Maimonides, who argued against them. I have explained at length elsewhere that The Halakhic Mind reflects the consciousness of homo religiosus whereas Halakhic Man reflects that of scholars

97 According to Psalms 42:3, and hinting at the piyyut of R. Abraham ibn Ezra recited as part of the Sabbath eve songs. 98 The negation of the attributes means that humans can never describe God in human language and can merely deny the familiar descriptions of God, an approach that unequivocally rejects anthropomorphization. The negation of the attributes does not enable literal acceptance of piyyutim. 99 See Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Halakhic Man, trans. Lawrence Kaplan (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1983), 58–59.

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from the Brisk dynasty and the Lithuanian yeshivot.100 Neither homo religiosus nor halakhic man is comfortable with the rejection of song and music, though each of them views them as reflecting the other. Homo religiosus fears scientificstructured thought, whereas halakhic man fears (between the lines) a takeover by the qualitative-subjective approach. R. Soloveitchik, then, defended liturgical music from the attack of medieval rationalist tradition and viewed the piyyut as a rich and legitimate expression of subjective religious consciousness. Consciousness pours out in a movement of communion with God and his infinite love and, at the same time, it is also poured into rhythmic lyrical and musical constructs. For R. Soloveitchik, the piyyut reflects both subjectivity and balanced objectivity. His writings assign this significant role to religious music.

Summary The controversy about the piyyut was perceived as focused on a specific subject and did not place music at the center. Music was not part of the large-scale disputes over the sciences in the Middle Ages and the early modern period either. R. Eliezer Ashkenazi (1513–1586), a thinker, preacher, and biblical commentator who wandered around the Ottoman empire, twice enumerated music with the sciences “that could not cause damage by leading to the hiding of the divinity and [are] merely a waste of time” and were also not included in the category of “evil.”101 Although many thinkers at various times shared Ashkenazi’s disparagement of music and although other radically different perceptions also prevailed, the gap between their conflicting assessments did not turn into a dispute. The piyyut was perceived as a way of revitalizing the religious experience, making prayer exciting and relevant, and its musical dimension contributed to the awakening of religious feeling. The previous discussion shows that the piyyut’s theological implications were not a sufficiently loaded subject to turn it into a bone of contention. The religious experiential standing of the piyyut seems to have prevented such a conflict.

100 See Dov Schwartz, Religion or Halakhah: The Philosophy of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, vol. 1, trans. Batya Stein (Leiden: Brill, 2013). 101 Eliezer Ashkenazi, Ma`aseh Adonai (Warsaw, 1885), 48c and 66b respectively.

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Mythological Motifs The Jewish assessment of music drew also on pagan traditions. Greek mythology presented Apollo as the god of both knowledge and music.102 The song of the sirens conveyed the bewitching effect of music. Orpheus was known for the wondrous powers of his playing, and these are only a few of mythology’s musical connections. Renaissance thought recurrently stressed Apollo’s connection to music through literary, philosophical, and visual means.103 These mythical representations of music were perceived as the source of its quality, its importance, and its magnetism. The monotheistic religions in general, and particularly the Jewish one, could not ignore the mythical motifs attached to music when waging their harsh war against pagan myths.104 The mythical representations of music penetrated Jewish thought as well. In the eighteenth century, R. Moshe Aharon Rachamim Piazza mentioned Orpheus and Apollo beside R. Yehuda heHasid when enumerating musical qualities: “the god Orpheus, son of the god Apollo, was so skilled and proficient in music and song that many kinds of people and animals and beasts and all the plants and all the metals used to follow him and do his will.”105 And this is only one instance of a centuries-old development. The myth shaped the mesmerizing influence of music and, at times, marked it as demonic. The discussion below traces various manifestations of how the standing of music developed out of its mythical contexts. I begin with the mythical dimension of the biblical stories and their interpretation and then deal with the marks of the classic mythological traditions.

102 See, for example, W. K. C. Guthrie, The Greeks and their Gods (Boston: Beacon Press, 1955), 314–315. 103 See Edgar Wind, Pagan Mysteries in the Renaissance (London: Faber and Faber, 1958), 112–113. 104 See, for example, Thomas J. J. Altizer, “The Religious Meaning of Myth and Symbol,” in Truth, Myth and Symbol, ed. Thomas J. J Altizer, William A. Beardslee, and J. Harvey Young (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1962), 87–108. 105 Printed in Adler, RISM, 243. See, for example, D. P. Walker, “Orpheus the Theologian and Renaissance Platonists,” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 16 (1953): 100–120.

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Jubal Scripture tells us that Jubal created the science of music, and was the father of all those who play the lyre and pipe (Genesis 4:21).106 In the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, Christian exegetes presented Pythagoras and Jubal as the forebears of music.107 Various biblical exegetes, some of them rationalists and some mystics, have looked for the source of music around the biblical story and have themselves contributed to interweaving the mythical element in the tale of music’s invention. R. Isaak Abravanel (1437–1508), the Jewish statesman who, following the expulsion from Spain, was exiled to Italy and absorbed there the spirit of the Renaissance, added another dimension to the exegetical traditions concerning Jubal. He argued that the invention of music was inspired by rhythm. Abravanel reminded his readers that Jubal’s brother, Tubal-Cain, was “the forger of all instruments of bronze and iron” (Genesis 4:22), and stated that the rhythmical beating of the anvil led Jubal to invent the science of sounds.108 A similar explanation recurs in the opening of R. Judah Moscato’s homily Higayon be-Khinor.109 Moscato also claimed that Jubal had preceded Pythagoras in the invention of music. Various kabbalists tied the two ancestral brothers to evil and revolt, claiming that Tubal-Cain forged weapons and Jubal composed songs of battle and evil, actions meant to awaken negative divine powers and bring up the negative dimensions of the divine sefirot. These kabbalists viewed singing as an expression of the sefirah of din,110 thus tracing the origin of music to aggression and despicable instinctual drives. Particularly during the Enlightenment, Jewish biblical commentary and aggadic exegesis began to rely on motifs from classical myths. Thinkers who

106 In the Midrash, Jubal’s sister (on his father’s side) Naamah was also linked to music (see Genesis Rabba 23:3). See, for example, K. E. Grözinger, Musik und Gesang in der Theologie der frühen jüdischen Literatur: Talmud, Midrasch, Mystik (Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1982), 43–45. 107 See Judith Cohen, “Jubal in the Middle Ages,” Yuval 3 (1974): 83–99. 108 Abravanel on Genesis 4:21. Abravanel claimed the source of this tradition was Sefer Jossipon. On Abravanel’s classic sources, see, for example, Moshe Idel, “Kabbalah and Ancient Philosophy for Isaac and Judah Abravanel,” in The Philosophy of Leone Ebreo: Four Lectures at the Colloquium of Haifa University, January 16, 1984, ed. Menahem Dorman and Ze’ev Levy (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 1985), 73–112 [Heb]. 109 Judah Moscato, Nefotsot Yehuda (Bnei Brak and New York: Mishor, 2000), 1b [Heb]. 110 See Menachem Recanati, Commentary on the Torah (Lublin, 1595; offset, Jerusalem, 1961), 16d; Sefer ha-Peli’ah, vol. 2 (Przemyśl, 1883), 63a. The tradition in the Zohar usually ascribes other symbols to terms associated with music.

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usually drew away from radical positions also endorsed this new awareness.111 Jubal became henceforth the god of music, with roots in Greek and Roman myths. R. Shmuel David Luzzatto (known as Shadal, 1800–1865) viewed the text in Genesis 4:20–22 as detailing the tasks whose performers people deified. In his view, this text shows that these performers are merely flesh and blood and that is the purpose of pointing to their family origin. Shadal identified Jubal, “the father of all those who play the lyre and pipe,” with Apollo.112 R. Yitzhak Baer Levinsohn (known as Rybal, 1788–1860) presented the term hymnon (hymn), which appears in the Midrash, as derived from the name of Hymenaeus, the god of marriage. Rybal interpreted it as “a paean or a wedding song, which was later borrowed for a song of thanksgiving.”113 Franz Rosenzweig (1886–1913) claimed that every object in the world, as it emerges, fuses with the order of the world. The totality, as it were, encroaches on the individual and engulfs him at birth. Thus, the object has a dual nature: it exists in its individuality while also being an integral part of the universal order. Rosenzweig illustrated this principle using the figure of Apollo, who played a string instrument and, through the power of his music, fused individual stones into a perfect wall.114 Opening up to the myth entails many other implications, which are discussed below.

Temptation Music was perceived as a temptation usually in connection to women singing. Talmudic literature adopted the ruling “A woman’s voice is a sexual incitement.”115 An interesting example of presenting music as temptation, which is also related to a pagan mythical context, is the polemical tractate of R. David of Makov (c. 1741–1816), Shever Posh`im [The destruction of sinners]. Written when Hasidism was founded by R. Israel Ba`al Shem Tov (known as 111 See, for example, Peretz Sandler, The Bi’ur of Moses Mendelssohn: Origin and Influence ( Jerusalem: Rubin Mass, 1984), 101–103 [Heb]; Noah Rosenblum, Ha-Malbim: Interpretation, Philosophy, Science and Mystery in the Writings of R. Meir Leibush Malbim ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1988), 131–132 [Heb]. 112 Samuel David Luzzatto, Torah Commentary, vol. 1, trans. Eliyahu Munk ( Jerusalem and New York: Lambda, 2012), 86. 113 Yitzhak Baer Levinsohn, Te`udah be-Yisrael (Vilnius, 1828; offset, Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center for Jewish History, 1977), 61. See, for example, Exodus Rabba 45b; Ecclesiastes Rabba 7d; Midrash on Psalms, Buber ed., 1, 6 (mentioned by Rybal ad locum). 114 See Shmuel Hugo Bergman, Dialogical Philosophy: From Kierkegaard to Buber, trans. Arnold A. Gerstein (Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1991), 197. 115 PT Challah 2a (58c); BT Berakhot 24a; BT Kiddushin 70a.

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Besht, d. 1760), it mercilessly attacks Hasidim and their first teachers, known as Admorim. R. David points to Hasidic tunes as one of the movement’s most significant liabilities. He warns against the captivating and bewitching power of songs, music, and dance and relies on myths to substantiate his view. I quote below at length a strongly satirical passage by R. David, and will attempt to expand on its meaning: As we know, their inciters incite and seduce the young among the children of Israel and run away with them, which in truth means stealing their soul.116 The inciter seduces him [the young one] by saying, “You have never enjoyed prayer, since you are used to praying in whispers, briefly, and without singing. But it is not so with our rabbis who, in their prayers, make friends and also sing, and particularly our rabbi who has an extremely pleasant voice and is skillful in playing,117 as are all the other worshipers, some with words and some with songs, and all playing melodies.118 R. Haika119 too, who is most sweet and altogether desirable (Song of Songs 5:16), claps with both hands in front of those who sing pleasant melodies and those who recite poetry, all in a voice that draws a person’s heart120 that, if made of stone, would dissolve.”121 . . . And indeed, when this fool goes there and hears them sing their melodies, usually in a pleasant voice and with their skillful playing, the overwhelming sweetness leads him to follow them with great love, and he goes after them like a bull to the slaughter and a stag caught fast,122 without knowing that it will cost him his life (Proverbs 7:23) and that that is the cause of his death. He thus resembles the inexperienced sailor, since, as we know, in the sea there is a creature whose upper half is a woman, and from the hips down [it] is a fish. Sometimes it appears to sailors in its upper half and sings

116 According to Exodus 21:16. 117 According to I Samuel 16:18. 118 Following the piyyut Adirei Ayumah [Israel’s nobles loudly revere], recited on Rosh ha-Shanah. See Israel Davidson, Thesaurus of Medieval Hebrew Poetry (Newark: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1924), vol. 1, 54, #1133 [Heb]. 119 Referring to R. Hayyim Heikel of Amdur, author of Chayyim ve-Chesed. 120 Again, imitating the structure of the piyyut Adirei Ayumah. 121 According to BT Sukkah 52a; BT Kiddushin 30b; Tanchuma Ha’azinu 3. 122 According to Proverbs 7:22.

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to them in a very sweet voice. The foolish inexperienced sailor is attracted to her and draws closer to hear her voice and delight in its sweetness, and from the delectable voice that comes out of her throat, all will die. The wise and experienced sailor knows that she will be the cause of his death. First, they hear her voice calling loudly—sound the timbrel, the sweet lyre with the harp,123 and [then] he sounds the timbrel and the flute, and raises a song with trumpets and the horn,124 and [after that] her voice is no longer heard,125 until he draws away and arrives peacefully at his desired destination.126 The author accurately characterizes the religious experience in the new movement as associated with music and various musical gestures. The musical freshness that accompanies the prayer seizes mainly the young, who seek renewal and find it in the Hasidic melody. R. David describes the power of music as an actual “stealing of the soul.” Echoes of the critique of the use of music among the first Hasidim resonate in the story about the Besht facing up to two demons who “mocked the Besht’s way of singing ‘Come my beloved’ [Lekha Dodi].”127 These two devils were created from the adulterous thoughts of a famous cantor who, “while singing,” had wanted to seduce women with the beauty of his voice. The motif of music as temptation, linked to the demonic, is evident in this Hasidic story as well. R. David’s words should perhaps be viewed against the background of the times (as in the Sitz im Leben approach). It has been claimed that, toward the end of the Baroque era, music played an important role in life and affected listeners’ feelings.128 At least in the Jewish world, it appears that the trend of renewal in Besht Hasidism rested on the wondrous power of music, poetry, and dance, and

123 According to Psalms 81:3. 124 According to Psalms 98:6. 125 According to I Samuel 1:13; Isaiah 69:19, and more. 126 Printed in Mordechai Wilensky, Hasidim and Mitnaggedim: A Study of the Controversy between Them 1772–1815, vol. 2 ( Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1970), 173–174 [Heb]. 127 In Praise of the Ba`al Shem Tov: The Earliest Collections of Legends about the Founder of Judaism, trans. Dan Ben-Amos and Jerome R. Mintz (New York: Schocken, 1984), 107. The historical reliability of this work has been discussed at length. See, for example, Immanuel Etkes, Ba`al Hashem—The Besht: Magic, Mysticism, Leadership ( Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center for Jewish History, 2000), ch. 6. 128 Nikolaus Harnoncourt posited that Johann Sebastian Bach added a minuet to the three movements of the First Brandenburg Concerto to discourage licentiousness among listeners influenced by the high spirits of the third movement (interview with Klaus Lindermann, 1982, recorded in DGG B001347009).

Assessing the Role of Music

in their association with the religious experience. The first Admorim, who were disciples of the Besht, resorted to parables based on music in their sermons and emphasized its crucial influence. The maskil Eliezer Zvi Hacohen Zweifel (1815–1888) cites, in the name of R. Ephraim of Sadlikow (1742–1800), a famous parable of the Ba`al Shem Tov dealing with music.129 According to this parable, a deaf person sees people playing and dancing but does not understand their behavior and misses their motivation. To this deaf man, the Ba`al Shem Tov compared Hasidism’s opponents. The power of music became a fundamental element of the Hasidic ethos in subsequent generations as well. R. Nachman of Bratslav (1772–1810) emphasized the magnetizing influence of music and argued: “For those who are closer to music and dance and understand them better, the movements of music and dance are performed automatically due to the greatness of the pleasure.”130 The ecstatic experience of music and dance, then, is automatically inspiring. The mythological tradition that entered the polemical discourse in early Hasidism strongly emphasizes the presentation of music as temptation. R. David of Makov, as noted, compares the enchanting power of Hasidic music to the song of the sirens. Another issue worth noting is the mythical tradition that R. David refers to when he suggests that the ruse allowing escape from the danger of music lies in music itself: melody vs. melody and a musical instrument vs. the song of the sirens (“sound the timbrel, the sweet lyre with the harp”). The significant weight that this sharp polemicist ascribed to music as temptation may be implied in the alternative name of his volume—The Song of the People.

129 See Eliezer Zweifel, Shalom al Israel, ed. Abraham Rubinstein, vol. 1 ( Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1973), 106 [Heb]. See also Shmuel Feiner, “The Turning Point in the Evaluation of Hasidism: Eliezer Zweifel and the Moderate Haskalah in Russia,” in The East European Jewish Enlightenment, ed. Immanuel Etkes ( Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center for Jewish History, 1993), 336–379 [Heb]. On parables associated with music, see also Gedaliah Nigal, Leader and Community: On Early Hasidism According to the Books of R. Yaakov Yosef of Polnoy ( Jerusalem: Yehuda, 1962), 118 [Heb]; Shlomo Dresner, “Prayer in Hasidism,” in Prayer in Judaism: Continuity and Change, ed. Gabriel Hayyim Cohn and Harold Fisch (Northvale, NJ: J. Aronson, 1996), 217–218 and 227–229. On R. Ephraim of Sadlikow, see below, 160. 130 Cited in Zvi Mark, Scroll of Secrets: The Hidden Messianic Vision of R. Nachman of Bratslav (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2006), 88 [Heb]. The issue of music in R. Nachman’s thought has become popular in recent years. See, for example, the book of R. Shmuel Stern, a Bratslav Hasid and a disciple of R. Eliezer Berland, The Song of the Heart: Singing and Music in the Worship of God ( Jerusalem: Lev Bratslav, 1994) [Heb]. See also the classes of R. Itamar Eldar on R. Nachman’s thought in the virtual beit midrash of Yeshivat Har Etzion, Alon Shvut (VBM), classes 26–30.

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Finally, note that the song of the sirens was perceived as a testimony to the power and influence of voice. R. Yosef Shaul Halevi Nathanson (1810– 1857), the rabbi of Lemberg, relied on the myth of the sirens to explain why, in the Sinai epiphany, the children of Israel requested that Moses speak to them, for fear that God’s voice would consume them (Deuteronomy 5:20–24). R. Nathanson quotes R. Jacob Emden’s prayerbook, Beit Ya`akov: “people would come from the sea and sing pleasantly and, should they fail to sound the timbrel to silence the voice, people would die from the pleasure.”131 Similarly, the children of Israel feared that hearing the divine voice from the fire would lead them to their death. R. Nathanson does not refer to the melody vs. melody strategy. The only way of preventing the sirens’ influence is to silence them.

The Mythical Interpretation of History Finally, the approach of Martin Buber (1878–1965), which some have claimed was also shared by Gershom Scholem (1897–1982), deserves mention. Buber strove to explain the renewal of Judaism in modernity as driven by mythical forces active within the Jewish people and reflected in its spiritual creativity. Myth plays an important role in Buber’s thought.132 In his study of Hasidism, Buber argued that this movement, in search of religious renewal, had shifted from a path of halakhic rigidity to one of spiritual vitality. The behavior of the tsadikim and the stories attached to them often play out according to mythical paradigms. When describing the ways of the tsadik, Buber pointed out that, in the se`udah shelishit (third meal), the tsadik teaches Torah within a distinctly musical context: “a soft song, vibrating with mystery, sounds forth, an enraptured anthem follows.”133 One characteristic that Buber pointed out in the

131 Yosef Shaul Halevi Nathanson, Divrei Shaul (Lemberg, 1875), 125a. Cited in Abraham Yitzhak Sperling, Te`amei ha-Minhagim u-Mekorei ha-Dinim ( Jerusalem: Eshkol, 1972), 280, additions to #618 [Heb]. 132 The association of myth and music in Buber’s thought is evident, for example, in his recourse to Eastern philosophy. See, for example, Robert Wood, “Oriental Themes in Buber’s Work,” in Martin Buber: A Centenary Volume, ed. Haim Gordon and Jochanan Bloch (New York: Ktav, 1984), 293 [Heb]. On celestial music in the text of Chuang Tzu that Buber translated, see Jonathan R. Herman, I and Tao: Martin Buber’s Encounter with Chuang Tzu (Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1996), 17–18. On Western perceptions of celestial music, see below, 185–195. 133 Martin Buber, The Origin and Meaning of Hasidism, trans. Maurice Friedman (New York: Horizon Press, 1960), 147. On myth in Buber’s writings, see Israel Koren, The Mystery of the Earth: Mysticism and Hasidism in Buber’s Thought (Haifa: University of Haifa, 2005), 102–103 [Heb].

Assessing the Role of Music

Maggid of Kozhnitz is that he was a “music-lover.”134 The dominance of the mythical component in Hasidism comes forth in the musical aspect, which includes singing, playing, and dancing, an issue I discuss in the coming chapters.135 Buber occasionally notes the role of music in Hasidic existence and ethos.136 For example, in a story that Buber cites in Or ha-Ganuz [The hidden light], the Ba`al Shem Tov distinguishes pure musical performance (a kind of automatic playing) from one guided by ulterior interests: A deft player has various interests when playing, and boasts of his skill. Not so the instrument he plays on: it is silent and has no other interests. And that is the meaning of “and when the minstrel played” (II Kings 3:15)—if the minstrel can play without any other interest, just like the instrument, the power of the Lord will come upon him.137 Buber, as noted, views Hasidism as an expression of religious innovation that leads also to a renewal of the myth. In his introductions to Hasidic tales, however, he does not discuss in detail the place of music, song, and dance in the shaping of mythical powers. It was R. David of Makov, the polemicist, who pointed out the mythical dimension of music in Hasidic life. He understood that the new movement approached the masses not only with the new language of the folk homilies and behavioral patterns adopted in the Hasidic ethos but also—and perhaps particularly—with the language of sound and movement. Finally, according to Eliezer Schweid, Gershom Scholem, who founded the modern scholarship of Kabbalah, also explained Jewish history according to myth.138 Many scholars questioned Schweid’s approach.139 Although Scholem

134 Buber, The Origin and Meaning of Hasidism, 47. 135 See below, 154–162, 245–246. 136 See, for example, Martin Buber, Or ha-Ganuz (Tel Aviv: Schocken, 1965), 42 [Heb]. An English translation, from an earlier Hebrew edition, does not include this section nor the story that follows. 137 Ibid., 74. Automatic playing appears elsewhere in Hasidic tradition. Worth noting is the story about R. Shmuel Shmelke (Horowitz) of Nikolsburg (1726–1778), a disciple of the Maggid of Mezeritch, of whom we are told that on Sabbaths, festivals, and the Days of Awe he would automatically compose melodies (“he did not know at all what he was playing and what melody”). This tradition too is cited in Sperling, Te`amei ha-Minhagim. 138 See Eliezer Schweid, Mysticism and Judaism according to Gershom Scholem: A Critical Analysis ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1983) [Heb]. 139 The critiques of Yosef Dan, Nathan Rotenstreich, and Hava Lazarus-Yaffe appeared in Jerusalem Studies in Jewish Thought 3 (1984).

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did not discuss music specifically, the intensive concern with mythical thought is ascribed to his scholarly endeavor. I return now to the purely musical aspect. To this day, several composers hold that myths are a constitutive component of a composer’s existence.140 The educational and cultural implications of myths may be debatable. Myth, however, has had a seminal influence in shaping the attitude toward music and nurtured it for many years. This cultural process has affected Jewish thought as well, as evident in the examples cited.

Re-Classification In modernity, music’s standing has changed in many ways. Music has become a legitimate field in aesthetics and is discussed as an artistic experience involving the senses. Its standing derives from its importance and its aesthetic value and not necessarily from its theoretical aspects. Its classification within the aesthetic context takes into account not only musical theory but particularly performance and its impact. Following changes and upheavals such as the Enlightenment and the Industrial Revolution, attention turns to aesthetics in general and to music in particular. These events affect the Jewish world as well. I point out below several landmarks in the institutionalization of music as an aesthetic domain in Jewish thought.

Music as Culture R. Yitzhak Baer Levinsohn, among the pioneers of the Haskalah in Russia, relied on his predecessors when noting the importance of studying the sciences. He also found that R. Yosef Shlomo Rofe (Yashar) of Candia had included in his list of sciences “the science of music, [which is] the understanding of sounds [lit. voices, kolot] and their relationships.”141 Many of the sages he cited in support of his view, however, did not mention music as a “science” and as a topic worth studying besides the Torah. Historians offer different opinions when determining the precursors of the Haskalah, its roots, and the continuity of this movement. Research has shown

140 For an analysis of Andre Hajdu, see Schwartz, Kinor Nishmati, appendix 3, 346–361. 141 Levinsohn, Te`udah be-Yisrael, 98.

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that acculturation processes within European Jewry preceded the Haskalah and had been in evidence even before Mendelssohn’s activity. Shochat probed rabbinic responses to the social opening up of the Jewish community on the eve of the Haskalah, when music and dance came to play a key role in leisure patterns. Following are several expressions of these developments. R. Yehiel Mikhl Epstein (d. 1728) pointed to the singing of the “song of misfortunes”142 on festivals as “the Kuteans’ way on their holidays.”143 R. Joseph Stathagen (1640–1714) characterized the culture of parties as one of singing, “and as their faces turn golden, they become like the trumpeters and singers who make themselves heard in unison,144 rejoice, O my soul, rejoice, O my soul.”145 He claimed that spectators gather at stadiums “for merriment, jesting, and music.”146 R. Jonathan Eybeschutz (1690–1764) deplored the popularity of dancing and visits to the opera.147 Indeed, the enjoyment of music at parties and celebrations becomes part of Jewish life in various places at this time,148 including the widespread practice of couples’ mixed dancing (“a man’s wife dancing with another man”).149 Music had a visual presence as well. Eybeschutz’s rival in the bitter controversy on the remnants of Sabbateanism, R. Jacob Emden (1698–1776), objected to the acquisition of paintings immortalizing muses or young women playing instruments.150 Aharon Wolfson’s play, written toward the end of the eighteenth century, describes an ordinary family where the father holds Torah scholars in high esteem. The daughter receives a musical education, which her father depicts as “voices singing, the sound of violins and the trill of harps,”151 but she falls into bad ways. Music, then, is both an expression of a positive education and an image of superficiality and decline.

142 The reference is to Psalms 91, traditionally recited against the mazikim (harmful demons). See, for example, PT Eruvin 10, 11 (26c). 143 Shochat, The Beginnings of the Haskalah, 163. 144 According to II Chronicles 5:13. 145 According to BT Pesachim 68b; Shochat, The Beginnings of the Haskalah, 37. 146 Shochat, The Beginnings of the Haskalah, 38. 147 Ibid., 39; Ben Zion Dinur, Historical Writings, vol. 1 ( Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1972), 238 [Heb]. 148 See, for example, Elliot Horowitz, “Night Vigils in Jewish Tradition: Between Popular Culture and Official Religion,” in Studies in the History of Popular Culture, ed. Benjamin Z. Kedar ( Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center for Jewish History, 1996), 218 ff. [Heb]. 149 Shochat, The Beginnings of the Haskalah, 163. 150 “Painting of love scenes and beautiful naked maidens twirling with timbrels and dancing, skillfully playing a lyre and pipe” (cited ibid., 138). 151 Cited in Shmuel Feiner, The Jewish Enlightenment, trans. Chaya Naor (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004), 359.

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The emergence of music as a cultural aesthetic realm and as a way of life established the foundation for the perception of music as an autonomous sensory experience. Music’s philosophical status in the theory of the aesthetic and the sublime becomes part of the discussion, as shown below. Henceforth, Jewish thinkers discuss music as an independent expression of beauty.

Aesthetic Classification: (1) During the Haskalah Regarding the place of music in the thought of the Haskalah, several developments are worth noting regarding classification that, indirectly, affected Jewish thought and reflect the new perspective on music. At the time of the Haskalah, two key cultural changes influenced the place of music in the division of the sciences. 1) Music was no longer perceived as a “divine art” in the ontological sense of the term but as an earthly art. Henceforth, music appears under the rubric of aesthetics rather than under that of metaphysics or its precursor, mathematics. Kant anchored the musical experience within the power of judgment and pinned it on a priori objective elements as well. 2) The reclassification of music was, at least indirectly, enriched by the intellectual endeavor of the encyclopedists (Diderot, d’Alembert, and others) who were active in the eighteenth century. During the Middle Ages, as noted, music had usually been viewed as part of the quadrivium, that is, placed among the mathematical sciences. Eighteenthcentury thinkers set up new, more open criteria for the classification of music, and the role of Jewish thinkers in this move was significant. Moses Mendelssohn discussed music in his aesthetic writings in connection with harmony and the sublime. In one article, he claimed that sensory perceptions are autonomous, and so is the musical experience. He described the loss of this autonomy through a metaphor of the soul as a violin, whose quality is evaluated without the virtuoso who yields a harmonious sound from it.152 Playing reveals the substantive and independent powers of an instrument. Mendelssohn conveyed his deep appreciation of music as a “heavenly art,”

152 Alexander Altmann, “Moses Mendelssohn on Education and the Image of Man,” in Studies in Jewish Thought: An Anthology of German Jewish Scholarship, ed. Alfred Jospe (Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press, 1981), 398.

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which includes the three sources of pleasure (beauty, intellectual apprehension, and sensory enjoyment).153 Mendelssohn’s classification of music was not, strictly speaking, part of his work as a Jewish thinker. Indeed, it was presented in a philosophical article dealing with aesthetics. His Jewish writings, however, do complete the picture. In the Bi’ur on Genesis, he had already noted that music is “a great science.”154 In the Bi’ur on Exodus, Mendelssohn pointed to the use of the Scriptural cantillations as the advantage of ancient Judaism. In his view, the music of the cantillations helps to engrave the truths in the listener’s heart.155 Furthermore, he claimed that Moses had heard the Torah from God accompanied by the cantillations.156 Mendelssohn’s Jewish philosophical writings, however, do not reflect any special musical influence. Following Mendelssohn, Solomon Maimon (1753–1800) pointed to unifying dimensions in music (the unity of rhythm, melody, and harmony), which enable its definition as a qualitative realm whose products can be ranked and evaluated. As Noah Jacobs pointed out, for Maimon, “[music] more closely resembles a cultural language, whose origin is neither entirely natural nor entirely arbitrary.”157 Maimon’s aesthetic approach, like his epistemic one, bears no distinctive Jewish signs. Not so the thought of R. Nachman Krochmal (1785–1840). Krochmal placed music in the category of “crafts that are close to the sciences,” and saw it as a national characteristic of the Jewish people.158 Solomon Ludwig Steinheim (1789–1866) passionately argued for the advantage of hearing over sight. In the context of an aesthetic discussion, Steinheim placed music in the category of arts that stem from “an immediate drive pushing for action, which the artist cannot describe.”159

153 Moses Mendelssohn, Philosophical Writings, trans. Daniel O. Dahlstrom (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 48. See also Alexander Altmann, Moses Mendelssohn: A Biographical Study (Tuscaloosa, AL: University of Alabama Press, 1973), 66–67. 154 Bi’ur on Genesis 4:21. 155 Bi’ur on Exodus 15:1–19. Cited in Gideon Freudenthal, No Religion without Idolatry: Mendelssohn’s Jewish Enlightenment (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2012), 91–92. 156 See Raphael Jospe, Jewish Philosophy: Foundations and Extensions, vol. 2 (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 2008), 212. 157 Noah Jacobs, “Maimon on Esthetics,” Iyyun 6 (1955): 215 [Heb]. 158 R. Nachman Krochmal, Moreh Nevokhei ha-Zman [The guide of the perplexed of the time], ed. Simon Rawidowicz (Berlin, 1924). On the distinction between science and craft, see above, 53–55. 159 Aharon Shear-Yashuv, ed., Steinheim on Revelation and Theocracy: Selection of Salomon Ludwig Steinheim’s Works ( Jerusalem: Rubin Mass, 1989), 108 [Heb]. See also Kalman P.

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Unfortunately, and despite the essential change in the place of music in modern culture, we still lack a systematic study of the conceptual links between Haskalah thinkers in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, on the one hand, and music and musical education, on the other. Such a study, which will probably focus mainly on Germany and, more generally, on Western Europe, must establish rigorous criteria for the determination of the link between perceptions of music and Jewish thought since these perceptions are mainly discussed in the context of the philosophical and aesthetic discourse. Micha Josef Berdyczewski (1865–1921) made a further contribution to this question. In his youth, Berdyczewski wrote a doctoral dissertation arguing for the unity of ethics and aesthetics, relying on the claims of philosophers whose works were viewed as stages in the process of unifying morality and beauty, or moral thought and sensory approaches. One such thinker is Anthony Ashley Cooper, third Earl of Shaftesbury (1671–1713), who claimed that there is a “moral sense” that controls actions and virtues, making them morally true. For Shaftesbury, actions and virtues were objects (mainly feelings) judged by the mind. In this sense, sensory activity parallelled moral activity. In Berdyczewski’s terms, “the same rule applies to the spiritual and moral facts of life on the one hand, and to the objects of sensory perception on the other.”160 Berdyczewski briefly dealt with the musical motif in Shaftesbury’s thought, and summed up the latter’s view as follows: The spirit, which contemplates other spirits and listens to them, must have eyes and ears to grasp the relationships, to distinguish between the sounds, and to absorb deviations from symmetry or its absence. Nothing can evade its contemplation. It senses the mild and the coarse, separates the strong from the beautiful just as precisely as it separates the sounds of a melody or the components of an object spreading in space. Therefore, the [spirit]

Bland, The Artless Jew: Medieval and Modern Affirmations and Denials of the Visual (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2000), 20–21. Note also an attempt by R. Menachem Nahum Friedman (1879–1933), a fascinating Hasid from Romania who wrote a volume on aesthetics and included a chapter on music. See David Assaf, Untold Tales of the Hasidim: Crisis and Discontent in the History of Hasidism, trans. Dena Ordan (Waltham, MA: Brandeis University Press, 2010), 176, 190–191. 160 Micha Josef Berdyczewski, On the Link between Ethic and Aesthetic, trans. Alexander Barzel (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 1986), 53–54 [Heb]. The Hebrew version is a translation of Berdyczewski’s dissertation, Über den Zusamenhang zwischen Ethic und Aesthetic (Bern: Steiger, 1897).

Assessing the Role of Music

cannot stop its wonder and its excitement, its loathing, and its aversion vis-à-vis actions, just as it cannot stop them vis-à-vis the objects of the senses. Hence, once the ability to see and to wonder in this manner was created, it [the spirit] will grasp the beauty and ugliness of actions, inclinations, and sensory modes, as it will grasp them in shapes, sounds, and colors.161 Shaftesbury himself used the musical motif to clarify his approach.162 He compared the correspondences between the sensory and moral realms to musical harmony and to the correspondences in art and architecture. Berdyczewski relied on this comparison and claimed that the grasp of the senses, including the musical one, is also a moral faculty. The ability to distinguish between sounds derived from the same root (“the spirit”) as the ability to differentiate moral virtues. Aesthetic and musical expressions parallel moral expressions. I deal below with the connection between Berdyczewski’s conceptions of music and of nation.163 In his dissertation, in any event, he strove for a renewed classification of music as an aesthetic expression. He joined a trend that, from many perspectives, characterizes the search for culture’s unifying element in later idealist thought.

Aesthetic Classification: (2) Twentieth-Century Orthodoxy Haskalah thinkers struggled with the question of music’s classification in the wake of Kant’s and other thinkers’ aesthetic views. In the twentieth century, however, Kant’s influence was limited mainly to epistemology and to moral will. Except for philosophers such as Hermann Cohen and Franz Rosenzweig, the influence of discussions about the power of judgment is hardly traceable in Jewish thought. This statement is certainly true for Orthodox Judaism.164

161 Berdyczewski, On the Link, 54. 162 Stephen Darwall, The British Moralists and the Internal “Ought”: 1640–1740 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 189. 163 See below, 223–224. 164 My book, Faith at the Crossroads: A Theological Profile of Religious-Zionism, trans. Batya Stein (Leiden: Brill, 2002), deals with the influence of Kant’s epistemic theory on religious Zionism.

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Several Orthodox thinkers, however, such as R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik,165 did compare the religious experience to the aesthetic one. An example of music’s classification without a direct connection to the continental philosophical background is Breuer’s Der Neue Kusari, which is one of several interpretations of, and sequels to, The Kuzari. The connection of The Kuzari to music is discussed below.166 Breuer contended with the approach of Reform Judaism that, in his view, based religion on the individual’s emotional subjective experience. In the discussion, Breuer compared the religious to the artistic aesthetic experience, thereby pointing to the standing of the musical experience and the classification of music in his thought. Breuer claimed that the main topic of art is no other than human suffering.167 In that sense, art and philosophy are similar. They differ, however, in the way they relate to their topic and in the type of experience they create. Breuer drew a sharp distinction between an experience involving the rational faculty and one that is entirely emotional and not derived from reason. The artistic experience is emotional: If religion is one of the branches of art, and if those of religious character are to be compared, for example, to those of musical character, the few true artists will have a right to devote their lives to their art. The relationship between fetishism and universal religion will then be as that between the folk song and the symphony. I do not, however, wish for the blurring veil of religion. What I wish for is the truth.168 Breuer compared the stages in the development of religion to the various types of music. Religion developed from the stage of fetishism—magic and the ascription of metaphysical characteristics to objects—to that of a universal religion. These two stages parallel, respectively, popular music (“the folk song”) and the symphony.

165 See, for example, R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Worship of the Heart: Essays on Jewish Prayer (New York: Toras HoRav Foundation, 2003), ch. 4. 166 See below, 101–106. 167 Breuer, Der Neue Kusari, 316. 168 Ibid., 30–31. On this work, see Yaakov Levinger, “Isaac Breuer: The Man and His Work,” in Isaac Breuer: The Man and His Thought, ed. Rivka Horwitz (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 1988), 25–30 [Heb].

Assessing the Role of Music

Furthermore, Breuer classified the musical experience under the rubric of the “deceitful world of emotion.”169 In such a world, reason has no room. He also used this simplistic split into an experience with rational elements and an artistic experience lacking such elements to convey the exposure to the divine revelation in aesthetic musical terminology. Prophecy enters consciousness “in its ancient holy Hebrew sounds, which cannot be reproduced, certainly not in their musical cantillations, in any other language.”170 Breuer hints here at the biblical cantillations. In any event, he locates music in the emotional, personal, and subjective realm, without actual genuine roots in rational consciousness.

Summary Music is perceived as a wondrous realm thanks to the sensory experience that influences many areas of human life, and thanks to the musical theory that was perceived as reflecting the cosmic order. Besides the initial impression, however, whose traces are evident in Scripture and ancient canonic sources, a rather complex attitude developed over time. Jewish thought oscillated between various and even polarized approaches toward the place of the musical motif in spiritual life. This chapter has considered a number of these oscillations in the assessment of music. 1) Although various sources in Jewish thought supported musical education, these views hardly left a trace in most of the Jewish diaspora during the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. No structured educational program developed, and tension emerged between theory and practice. 2) At times, negative aspects of music stood out (Maimonides’ struggle against the piyyut, the perception of music as temptation or as a technical occupation of uneducated people). Other times, emphasis was placed on its educational and intellectual importance. 3) At times, myth was enlisted to stress the value of music. Other times, myth was used to highlight its dangers.

169 Breuer, Der Neue Kusari, 30–31. 170 Ibid., 71–72.

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4) At times, the theoretical side of music was stressed and appreciated. Other times, highlight was placed on the performative side that was often viewed as merely technical. 5) Ever since Jewish thinkers began dealing with aesthetics as an independent field of philosophy, music was discussed as a sensory and experiential discipline. Scholars dealing with the standing and value of music often present it as an independent and at times also scientific (mathematical) domain that enters the religious world. When thinkers discussed the ancient musical traditions—biblical poetry and the Levites singing in the Temple—assessments changed, and Jewish thinkers sought to emphasize the advantage of the Jewish people regarding music. This topic is at the center of the next chapter.

3

Music and the Jewish People The uniqueness, ascendance, and advantage of the Jewish people is a central issue in Jewish thought. Rationalists have tried to demonstrate, at times regardless of the costs, the intellectual advantage of the chosen people; traditionalists ascribed to it a kind of uniqueness that cannot be rationally and logically evaluated; kabbalists anchored this advantage in the fact that the Jewish people is symbolized by the divine sefirot and draws on them constantly; astrologists endeavored to find the constellation that determines the people’s special status, and so forth. There is no virtue or attribute considered worthy or beneficial that was not enlisted in the chosen people’s advantage, and musically inclined thinkers and theologians could therefore be expected to argue for their musical preeminence. Given the changing evaluations of music, its weight, uniqueness, and advantages for the spiritual life of the Jewish people require clarification. Thinkers have indeed pondered the Jewish prominence in the musical sphere. Although defending music has generally been easier than defending the visual arts due to the halakhic objections to painting and sculpture, this has not been an easy task. Jewish thinkers have highlighted the special character of Jewish musical creativity, emphasizing what they viewed as its exceptional suitability to religious life. In this chapter, I flesh out arguments supporting the musical advantage of the Jewish people in the course of history while also pointing out the problematic aspects of these claims.

The Polemical Aspect Discussions on the Jewish people’s advantage in any realm almost invariably entail a polemical aspect. Jewish thought, as shown above, did not develop in a vacuum.1 It contended with the great monotheistic religions that, fairly or

1

See above, 7–10.

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unfairly, sought to appropriate various religious and cultural achievements. Music was perceived as a significant attainment in the search for religious perfection, and the great religions saw it, to some extent, as one of their expressions. My first concern, therefore, will be music’s connection to the interreligious polemic.

Background Views on the musical advantage of the Jewish people developed directly out of the interreligious polemic. In exile, Jews contested with their surroundings mainly on three fronts: the rabbinic-Karaite dispute, the Jewish-Muslim dispute, and the Jewish-Christian dispute.2 Rabbinic thinkers faced serious difficulties in these contests, as shown below. Karaites rejected the set rabbinic order of prayers and viewed only biblical prayer as the proper liturgy. R. Saadia Gaon refuted their claim, stating that psalms do not belong under the rubric of prayer. In his view, psalms had ab initio been meant for the Temple, both in their melodies and in their instrumental accompaniment. Uriel Simon noted that the definition of psalms as sacred songs, both musically and instrumentally, affected R. Abraham ibn Ezra as well.3 But the dispute with Karaism in general, and particularly regarding music, was limited to specific times and places and did not reach the level of the controversies with Islam and Christianity. Islam developed the `Arabiyya doctrine, which proclaimed the superiority of the Muslim faith and stated that Muslims have an essential advantage over followers of other religions. According to the `Arabiyya, the climate in Islamic regions is the ideal one, and the Arabic singing is the finest, chosen by angels in heaven to please Allah. Jewish thinkers active in areas influenced by Muslim culture, particularly in the twelfth century, needed to contend with the `Arabiyya school. As for Christianity, singing and choirs are an integral part of the mass. The musical style of the Missa Solemnis developed in the Middle Ages, and the works of Renaissance composers such as Josquin des Prez (1445–c. 1521) and Palestrina

2 3

On the role of philosophy in the Jewish-Christian dispute, see Daniel J. Lasker, Jewish Philosophical Polemics against Christianity in the Middle Ages (Oxford and Portland, OR: Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2007). See, at length, Uriel Simon, Four Approaches to the Book of Psalms: From Saadia Gaon to Abraham ibn Ezra, trans. Lenn J. Schramm (Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1991), 15–21.

Music and the Jewish People

(1525–c. 1594) attested to its refining and completion. The sacramental musical dimension of Christianity became established, and its qualitative development was undeniable. Claims about the musical advantage of the Jewish people over Christians thus became problematic, at least regarding vocal music and the integration of vocal and instrumental music. Jewish thinkers certainly knew that highlevel musical creativity in the West during the Middle Ages and the Renaissance was largely not the work of Jews, nor did it bear a Jewish character. Indeed, church music played a decisive role in musical creativity for centuries and even influenced Jewish music, a claim that is also valid for various musical forms of secular singing. In addition, troubadours probably influenced Jewish poets and composers.4 Jews in various places did deal with music during the Middle Ages, but their influence was not decisive.5 As usual, there was musical interaction with the environment. The poetic tradition of the cantor in public prayers, which was an expression of the central musical activity in the Jewish community, was partly influenced by songs from the surroundings. Jews in the Middle Ages adapted to this situation and adopted apologetic arguments as well as substantive and educational ones to explain their limited musical involvement.

The Paths of the Controversy Let us return to the anti-Muslim polemic. Two prominent Jewish thinkers, directly and indirectly, challenged the `Arabiyya view on the superiority of Islam in music and song: R. Moshe ibn Ezra (1055–1138?), the famous methodologist of medieval poetry, and R. Judah Halevi, its outstanding creator. Moshe ibn Ezra did not claim that knowledge of music was imperative for aspiring poets, but did recommend involvement with it.6 Nevertheless, he admitted that Arabic poetry enjoyed an advantage.7 The views of R. Judah Halevi, who grappled at length with the `Arabiyya, merit separate discussion.8

4 5 6 7 8

See, for example, Jefim Schirmann, Studies in the History of Hebrew Poetry and Drama ( Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1979), 406 [Heb]. On Jews in Spain, see, for example, H. Anglès, “La musique juive dans Espagne Médiévale,” Yuval 1 (1968): 48–64. See Yosef Dana, Poetics of Medieval Hebrew Literature ( Jerusalem: Dvir, 1982), 209–210 [Heb]. Nehemia Aloni, “The Kuzari: An Anti-`Arabiyya Polemic,” Eshel Beer-Sheva: Studies in Jewish Thought 2 (1980): 133–134 [Heb]. See below. On the controversy with the `Arabiyya, see ibid., 119–144; Jand D. Katzew, “Moses ibn Ezra and Judah Halevi: Their Philosophies in Response to Exile,” Hebrew Union

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The deep connection of musical creativity to the church bothered many thinkers. Already in the late thirteenth century, Immanuel Romano writes: “And today, none of us knows anything at all about it [music], and it is entirely owned by Christians.”9 Elsewhere, he adds: “And you should know that the science of music playing [chokhmat ha-nigun] is wonderful and entirely lacking today in our walls.10 . . . However, little of this art has remained among the Christians.”11 At the end of the fourteenth century, Profiat Duran writes, “the truth of this [musical] science is lacking among us today.”12 R. Nachman of Bratslav also related to church music and, indirectly, recognized its special quality. He pointed to a symmetry between mistaken, impure music and holy music: And faith also has a song and a melody that is unique to faith. And even Gentile faiths, each in its own mistake, has its unique melody, which is sung and used in their prayer houses. And the opposite is true for holiness—each faith has a song and a melody.13 R. Nachman viewed church music as a fact, even if negative, that should be raised to the level of holiness. He also indicated that its source—like that of all melodies—is the special nigun of faith in the En-Sof. Contrary to R. Nachman, Franz Rosenzweig saw church music as the most genuine integration of music with life and the link of the past with redemption.14 I discuss the background to this approach below.15

9 10 11 12 13 14 15

College Annual 55 (1984): 179–195. The Book of Proverbs with the Commentary of Immanuel of Rome, 26:13 (Naples, c. 1487; offset, Jerusalem: National and University Library, 1981), intro. David Goldstein, 167 [Heb]. Instead of “in our walls” (me-chomotenu) it should probably read “in our nation” (me-umatenu). Cited in Amnon Shiloah, “A Passage by Immanuel ha-Romi on the Science of Music,” Italia 10 (1993): 15. R. Yitzhak b. Moshe, known as Profiat Duran Halevi, Ma’aseh Efod, ed. Jakob Kohn and Jonathan Friedländer (Vienna, 1865), 20 [Heb]. Reprinted in Dov Rappel, “Introduction to the Book Ma`aseh Efod by Profiat Duran,” Sinai 100 (1987): 788 [Heb]. R. Nachman of Bratslav, Likkutei Moharan 64:5 [Heb]. See also Zvi Mark, The Scroll of Secrets: The Hidden Messianic Vision of R. Nachman of Bratslav, trans. Naftali Moses (Brighton, MA: Academic Studies Press, 2010), 97–98. See Yehoyada Amir, Reason Out of Faith: The Philosophy of Franz Rosenzweig (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 2004), 238 [Heb]. See below, 219–223.

Music and the Jewish People

Two other modern reactions tying music to Christianity and Christians are also interesting. Gershon Schoffman (1880–1972) characterized the ways of the Christian city as “piano strumming” (peret psanter).16 Uri Teplitz (1913–2006), one of the founders and leaders of the Israeli Philharmonic Orchestra, noted that “the background of European music is Christian.” On the decision to play sacral music, he wrote: Some of the greatest musical works are based on texts from the Christian ritual. In such cases, we do not adopt the words, which offend Jewish feelings, but only the music, and the greatness of the music cancels out the reservations about the spiritual content. For a long time, [ Jews] recoiled from such works—they planted words suited to Passover instead of the Easter texts in Bach’s works and sang Brahms’ German Requiem (which is not truly a requiem) in Hebrew.17 Starting in the mid-1950s, the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra has performed the best of church music because of its unique qualities, acknowledging it as the very foundation of Western musical culture. The religious-Zionist composer Andre Hajdu, in his dialogue with Mira Zakai, said: “After all, where do we have a religious society that demands the writing of oratorios?”18 Hajdu, therefore, defined himself in this regard as “a Protestant [ Jew]” and added, “my primary religious-musical experiences come from the mass.”19 Pinning the musical inferiority on the exile and on the persecution of the Jewish people, a recurrently voiced argument, could not blur the painful truth of this inferiority. From the beginning of the Romantic period, Jews often took pride in the many composers of Jewish origin. The more important ones among these figures, however, had either cut off all ties with Judaism or had never had 16 The description appears in his story “Leil Tish`ah be-Av.” 17 Uri Teplitz, The Story of the Israeli Philharmonic Orchestra (Tel Aviv: Sifriat Hapoalim, 1992), 151 [Heb]. 18 Mira Zakai and Andre Hajdu, Where Do Salmons Swim To? A Dialogue (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 1996), 112 [Heb]. On Hajdu, see Dov Schwartz, Kinor Nishmati: Music in Jewish Thought (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2013), 300–305 [Heb]. 19 Zakai and Hajdu, Where Do Salmons Swim To?, 124. Ernst Simon applied the term “Protestant” to an individualistic religious approach that compartmentalizes culture and religion. See Ernst Simon, Are We Still Jews (Tel Aviv: Sifriat Hapoalim, 1983), 9–30 [Heb]; Avi Sagi, Tradition vs. Traditionalism: Contemporary Perspectives in Jewish Thought, trans. Batya Stein (Amsterdam and New York: Rodopi, 2008), 43–51. Hajdu seems to have added a musical variation to Simon’s term.

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such ties to begin with (Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy, Gustav Mahler, Giacomo Meyerbeer, Darius Mayo, and many others). The musical inferiority of the Jewish people during the Middle Ages and the modern period in the situation of exile had two aspects: 1)  a real substantive aspect—the problematic fact that, for centuries, musical creativity had not been a dominant endeavor for the Jewish people; 2)  a polemical aspect: for the competing monotheistic religions (Islam and Christianity), musical creativity was part of their heritage. Jewish thinkers held that the uniqueness of the chosen people applied to the connection to music as well as other sciences and disciplines. Many thinkers contended with the fact that the most important scientific sources in the Middle Ages and the modern period were not Jewish in origin. Whoever dealt with medicine, astronomy, physics, and other fields resorted to existing sources, most of which had not been the work of Jews. During the Middle Ages, the scientific authority had been Aristotle and his Hellenistic and Muslim interpreters. In specific areas, the authorities were Galen, Ptolemy, and others. In the modern era, the scientific authorities were Galileo, Newton, and their colleagues. Jewish rationalists, however, were never threatened by these facts and became involved in scientific activity and in the tradition of transmitting this knowledge without feelings of ethnic inferiority. Maimonides coined the famous rule: “accept the truth from whatever source it proceeds.”20 Thinkers, though, still searched for the superiority of the chosen people in these fields. Another issue derived from this controversy was the attitude toward the musical creativity of the surrounding peoples, usually represented as “foreigners’ songs.” This was the topic of an important discussion, not limited to the halakhic question of listening to Christian music. The various dimensions of these concerns are evident in the fascinating work of R. Mordechai Abadi, who was active in Aleppo in the nineteenth century. Abadi wrote a book of piyyutim, stating: “The Israelites are holy,21 they have all turned to their own way,22 / they have turned aside quickly,23 they stand there, and answer no

20 Maimonides, The Eight Chapters of Maimonides on Ethics (Shemonah Perakim), trans. Joseph I. Gorfinkle (New York: AMS Press, 1966), 36. 21 See, for example, BT Shabbat 86a; BT Ketubot 65b; BT Nidah 17a. 22 See Isaiah 56:11. 23 According to Exodus 32:8.

Music and the Jewish People

more24 / in foreigners’ songs / that are briers and thorns.”25 Abadi had reservations about sensual songs, but still adopted the stance of R. Nachman of Bratslav and of new Hasidism in general, claiming that foreign melodies can be uplifted to the realm of holiness.26 My discussion below will address two further polemics that arose in different periods, touching on the musical advantage of the Jewish people: 1) the motif of theft of the sciences; 2) the polemic surrounding Wagner.

“The Theft of Music” One of the most noteworthy defenses in the interreligious polemic is the wellknown motif of the “theft of the sciences,” which states that Jews had been experts in the sciences but their exile led to two fateful developments: 1) Jews forgot the sciences following the suffering, the persecutions, and the harshness of their life in exile; 2) Gentiles learned the sciences from Jews, boasted about them, and appropriated them.27 The myth about the theft of the sciences granted an apologetic advantage and legitimized their study. Henceforth, “foreign” or secular sciences are not truly foreign since their source is distinctly Jewish. Involvement in “foreign” sciences is a “reconstruction” of the original knowledge that Jews had possessed, a view supported by Philo, Judah Halevi, Maimonides, and others. Rationalists, 24 According to Job 32:16. 25 See Ezekiel 2:6. Mordechai Abadi, Divrei Mordechai (Tsova, 1883), 1b [Heb]. 26 See Schwartz, Kinor. See also Yaron Harel, By Ships of Fire to the West: Changes in Syrian Jewry during the Period of the Ottoman Reform 1840–1880) ( Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center for Jewish History, 2003), 98, 124 [Heb]; idem, Intrigue and Revolution: Chief Rabbis in Aleppo, Baghdad, and Damascus (1744–1914), trans. Yehonatan Chipman (Oxford and Portland, OR: Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2015), 276–277. 27 See, for example, Harry Austryn Wolfson, Philo: Foundations of Religious Philosophy in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, vol. 1 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1947), 162–163; Norman Roth, “The ‘Theft of Philosophy’ by the Greeks from the Jews,” Classical Folia 32 (1978): 53–67; Dov Schwartz, “The Debate on Astral Magic in Provence in the Fourteenth Century,” Zion 58 (1993): 160 [Heb]. See also Abraham Melamed, The Myth of the Jewish Origins of Science and Philosophy (Haifa: Haifa University Press, 2010) [Heb].

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as noted, adopted this widespread argument to legitimize the intensive involvement of Jews in philosophy and in the natural sciences, a pursuit that relies on Greek and Muslim sources. Music was among these “stolen” sciences and some felt a need to emphasize its unique role in this context. R. Immanuel Romano wrote in his notebooks the famous sentence: “What does the Christians’ science of music say? / I was indeed stolen out of the land of the Hebrews.”28 R. Judah b. Yitzhak, whose work on music endured in the Paris manuscript, wrote in this spirit: I was envious of the arrogant,29 / foolish, and senseless people,30 / idol worshippers, / boasting to a wise and understanding people,31 telling them “your songs are lost / and all voices are jumbled in your throat,32 and you play a song / as the crackling of thorns under a pot” (Ecclesiastes 7:6). Yet, we do possess the science of music / pleasant and sweet, wherein all songs are sung together33 without jumbling. And I understood the deceit of their own heart,34 boasting of what is not theirs and shall be counted stolen35 from the chapter of the song used by the Levites singing on their platform in the house of our Lord. / But [it] has been forgotten by our people / in this land, in this troubled time of our exile under the heavy yoke of our subjugation.36 We learn from this passage that the musical inferiority of Jews became a topic in interreligious disputes. According to R. Judah b. Yitzhak, the source of musical creativity had been the Temple and, in exile, Gentiles learned its secrets. 28 According to Genesis 40:15; Immanuel Romano, Machberoth Immanuel ha-Romi, ed. Dov Jarden ( Jerusalem: Dov Jarden, 1957), 120, ln. 341 [Heb]. See also Israel Davidson, Thesaurus of Parables and Sayings ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1979), 192, §3169 [Heb]. 29 According to Psalms 73:3. 30 According to Deuteronomy 32:6. 31 According to Deuteronomy 4:6. 32 Meaning it is the Gentiles’ fault that Jewish music has lost its originality and is affected by its surroundings. 33 According to Job 38:7. 34 According to Jeremiah 14:14. 35 According to Genesis 30:33. 36 According to Tanchuma, Buber ed., Ve-Zot ha-Berakhah. The passage is from Paris Ms. 1037, printed in Israel Adler, RISM: Hebrew Writings concerning Music in Manuscripts and Printed Books: From Geonic Times Up to 1800 (Munich: G. Henle, 1975), 81. See also idem, “Musicology and Jewish Studies,” Tatslil 11 (1980): 26 [Heb].

Music and the Jewish People

Music in the Temple had been pure and refined. R. Judah b. Yitzhak sought “to return it to us” and, therefore, he wrote a methodological work on “the science of music.” The thinkers presented above shifted the “theft of the sciences” claim from scientific knowledge (of physics, astronomy, and so forth) to song and music. Instead of the work of biblical figures (the poetry of King David, Solomon’s wisdom, and so forth), the stolen asset is now songs of the Levites, and instead of the study house, the location of the theft was shifted to the Temple. Immanuel Romano and R. Judah b. Yitzhak may have been referring to church music and to Gregorian songs, which they saw as based on the Levites’ songs. With the awakening of the national renaissance, Abraham Zvi Idelsohn (1882–1938) and other ethnomusicologists claimed that the sources of church music are to be found in the Temple service and the synagogue. These scholars strove to find a musical closeness between ancient Jewish musical traditions, such as Yemenite singing, and Gregorian chants, and postulated the existence of sources common to both.37 Occasionally, ethnomusicological studies discuss these theories, although many scholars tend to approach them rather cautiously.38

The New Antisemitism Another and entirely different apologetic aspect that emerged with the rise of modern antisemitism is the dispute surrounding the publication of Richard Wagner’s Judaism in Music (1850). Critics of this work focused mainly on the claim that Jews are not inferior to Gentiles regarding music. The musical stature attained by Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy and Giacomo Meyerbeer, whom Wagner targeted and repeatedly mentioned in a polemical context, helped to contend with his claims. This apologetic move contributed to highlighting the Jews’ advantage in music as it drove polemicists to search for a definition of “Judaism.”39 On the one hand, the new antisemitism resented the “Judaization” of German culture, including music, by Jewish avant-gardists. On the other,

37 See Amnon Shiloah, The Musical Legacy of Jewish Communities (Tel Aviv: Open University Press, 1985–1987), unit 1, 27–28 [Heb]. 38 See, for example, Hanoch Avenary, Encounters of East and West in Music: Selected Writings (Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University Press, 1979). 39 See Jacob Katz, Antisemitism: From Religious Hatred to Racial Rejection (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 1980), 155–170 [Heb]; idem, The Darker Side of Genius: Richard Wagner’s Antisemitism (Hanover: Brandeis University Press, 1986), 78–90; Kalman P. Bland, The Artless

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some did acknowledge the spirit of Jewish pioneering in cultural realms but condemned it as the very epitome of assimilation.40 The connection of the Jewish people to music was addressed post factum while contending with modern antisemitism. Indirectly, the Wagner affair led also to the Zionist awakening. Max Nordau (1849–1938) saw Wagner as the most extreme manifestation of decline and decadence.41 In writing his harsh critique, Nordau was trying to protect the European Enlightenment. He soon abandoned his faith in Jewish emancipation and focused his efforts on the Zionist endeavor. The dispute about playing Wagner in Israel after the Holocaust posed a completely different challenge. At times, this controversy helped to influence attitudes within political factions in Israel’s early years and served to reflect social and political trends and interests. Generally, while the right of the political spectrum was sharply opposed to playing Wagner’s works, the left was partly supportive.42 This conflict focused on subjects such as artistic freedom, collective memory, and the proper attitude toward Germany. Unlike the previous controversy surrounding Wagner in the mid-nineteenth century, this one made no significant contribution to the discussion on the Jews’ musical advantage and evoked no special attention in Jewish thought.

The Contribution of The Kuzari The most influential discussion on the musical advantage of the Jewish people in Jewish thought was that of Judah Halevi in the first half of the twelfth century. His polemical aspect was already noted above, but it is important to reiterate that The Kuzari is indeed among the most significant polemical works in Jewish thought, as attested not only by its character but also by its original name—The Book of Refutation and Proof on Behalf of the Despised Religion. The polemical character of The Kuzari extended to music as well, where Halevi’s arguments powerfully affected the interreligious dialogue. Various traditions about music, even if they had not been formulated in a polemical context, adopted a distinct

Jew: Medieval and Modern Affirmations and Denials of the Visual (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2000), 28–29. 40 These claims appeared among Zionists. See, for example, Joachim Doron, The Zionist Thinking of Nathan Birnbaum ( Jerusalem: WZO, 1988), 38–39 [Heb]. 41 Jacob Golomb, The Hebrew Nietzsche (Tel Aviv: Maskel, 2009), 111–113 [Heb]. 42 Naama Shefi, A Ring of Myths: Israelis, Wagner, and Nazism (Haifa: Haifa University Press, 1999) [Heb].

Music and the Jewish People

polemical character in The Kuzari. I will first present the principles that guide the discussion on music in this work and then trace their influences over time.

The Arguments of The Kuzari Halevi contended, indirectly but thoroughly, with the `Arabiyya trend. The Kuzari, as I have shown elsewhere, offered many polemical claims and, from the start, intended to provide the disputing parties with various kinds of arguments, some of them mutually incompatible.43 Regarding the dispute on music, Halevi also presented two different arguments: 1) the song of the Levites was a paradigm of musical excellence; 2) the “recitative” has a musical advantage over the singing. The usual (and easy) way of dealing with the musical inferiority of the Jewish people was to list Jewish musical feats from the distant past, and Halevi was the one who set the course on this matter. Singing and playing in the Temple are known to be a very significant expression of Judaism’s appreciation of music and its musical distinction, as is widely attested in Scripture.44 Music in the Temple and in other religious institutions was present as a motif in tannaitic and amoraic literature.45 Joseph Heinemann’s summary on singing in the Temple in general and the song of the Levites in particular merits note: The Levitical hymns (the cultic psalms), too, belong to the Temple ritual—but these hymns were only chanted at the very end of the daily sacrificial rite after the offering of the incense

43 See Dov Schwartz, Messianism in Medieval Jewish Thought, trans. Batya Stein (Brighton, MA: Academic Studies Press, 2017), 55–56. 44 On the song of the Levites in the First and Second Temples, see “The Place of the Book of Psalms in Worship,” Dukhan 5 (1964): 9–12 [Heb]; Itamar Gruenwald, “The Song of the Angels, the Kedushah, and the Composition of Hekhalot Literature,” in Jerusalem in the Second Temple Period, ed. Aharon Oppenheimer, Uriel Rappaport, and Menahem Stern ( Jerusalem: Yad Yizhak Ben-Zvi, 1980), 467–468 [Heb]. 45 On music in the Temple, see, for example, Karl-Erich Grözinger, Musik und Gesang in der Theologie der frühen jüdischen Literatur: Talmud, Midrasch, Mystik (Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1982), 119–142, 156–157; Jacob Neusner, Judaism’s Theological Voice: The Melody of the Talmud (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995); Emmanuel Friedheim, “Jewish Society in the Land of Israel and the Challenge of Music in the Roman Period,” Review of Rabbinic Judaism 15 (2012): 61–88.

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and the Priestly Benediction, while the limbs were being burned and the wine libation was being poured. The nonessential nature of these hymns is also indicated by the fact that the Levitical singers stood far away from the altar, on the steps which separated the priests’ section of the courtyard from that of the ordinary Israelites. The Levitical chants were not prose prayers in “free style” as we find in the synagogue, but were rather “formulary” in nature, i. e., the same hymns were always intoned in a set fashion. On festivals, the Hallel hymns (psalms of praise and thanksgiving) would also be chanted and would be accompanied by flute-playing. The Hallel, so it seems, was connected primarily with activities of a popular character, namely, those in which the congregation of worshippers took an active part, such as the slaughtering of the paschal lambs, the wine libation, the circumambulations of the altar during the festival of Sukkot and the offering of the first fruits; there is also reason to believe that the Hallel was chanted on the festivals while the sacrifices of the people were offered up. The antiphonal46 and responsorial47 nature of the Hallel psalms is most striking and leaves no reason to doubt that the people took an active part in this chanting—although not in the offering of the sacrifices themselves.48 Heinemann claims that the song of the Levites accompanied the sacrifice rituals, although it was not their key element. Nevertheless, the professional and active singing in the Temple was apparently the Levites’ task. Furthermore, in the geonic era, R. Saadia Gaon anchored the singing of psalms in the Temple service.49 Judah Halevi also formulates the musical advantage of the chosen people in connection with the Temple service. In Part Two of The Kuzari, he addresses the argument that the sciences require the Torah and that, in antiquity, Jewish sages had been experts in them. One of the sciences emphasized in this context 46 Meaning two choirs or groups facing one another. 47 Meaning a soloist and the response, or the repetition of the soloist’s chant by the choir or the public. 48 Joseph Heinemann, Prayer in the Talmud: Forms and Patterns, trans. Richard S. Sarason (Berlin and New York: Walter de Gruyter, 1977), 124–125. Heinemann added there that there were other instances of singing in the congregation, such as the Hoshanot. 49 Simon, Four Approaches.

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is the “science of music.” In the following passage, which has been discussed in the scholarly literature,50 R. Judah Halevi writes: [The Rabbi:] . . . Music was the pride of a nation which distributed their songs in such a way that they fell to the lot of the aristocracy of the people, viz. the Levites, who made practical use of them in the holy house and in the holy season. For their maintenance they were satisfied with the tithes, as they had no other occupation but music. As an art it is highly esteemed among mankind,51 as long as it is not abused and degraded,52 and as long as the people preserves its original noblenes and purity. David and Samuel were its great masters.53 Dost thou think that they understood it well or not? Al Khazari: There can be no doubt that their art was most perfect, and touched the souls, as people say that it changes the humour of a man’s soul to a different one.54 It is impossible that it should now reach the same high level. It has deteriorated, and servants and half-crazy people are its patrons. Truly, Rabbi, it sank from its greatness, as you have sunk in spite of your former greatness.55 Following are the musical advantages of the Jewish people according to Judah Halevi.

50 See, for example, Nehemia Aloni, “Music and Song in The Kuzari,” Yuval 3 (1974): 7–17 [Heb]; Dov Schwartz, “The Kuzari and Its Commentators on Music,” Machanayim 10 (1995): 154–163 [Heb]. 51 On the use of the terms science and art, see above, 52–53. 52 Meaning that musicians enjoy high social status and are not inferior. 53 Commentators on The Kuzari have already noted that he relied on I Chronicles 9:22. See above, 15. 54 See Davidson, Thesaurus, 192, §3168. On the psychological benefits of music, see below, 146–166. 55 Judah Halevi, The Kuzari II:64–65. For English translation, see Judah Halevi, The Kuzari, trans. Hartwig Hirschfeld (New York: Schocken, 1964), 123. Original: Judah Halevi, Kitāb al-radd wal-dalīl fī al-dīn al-dhalīl (al-kitāb al-Khazari), ed. David H. Baneth and Haggai Ben-Shammai ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1977), 78, lns. 24–79, here ln. 7. On music in R. Judah Halevi’s aesthetic approach, see Yohanan Silman, Philosopher and Prophet: Judah Halevi, The Kuzari, and the Evolution of His Thought, trans. Lenn J. Schramm (Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1995), 249–250.

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1)  A class advantage. those in charge of music are “the aristocracy of the people, viz. the Levites.”56 The Levites live from public contributions (tithes) and, since the Temple service was mostly the task of the priests, they had free time, which they devoted entirely to music. 2)  A value advantage. The class advantage of music derives directly from the fact that, for Israel, “music was the pride of a nation.”57 3)  A political advantage. The important leaders of the people dealt with music. Judah Halevi pointed to David and Samuel, the classic models of king and prophet. 4)  A psychological and moral advantage. As Judah Halevi puts it, music “touched the souls.” He adopted the Platonic approach here, claiming that music has a potential influence on morality. Indirectly, the implication is that the musical skills of the Jewish people strengthen their morality. The first of Judah Halevi’s apologetic arguments, then, relates to the place of music in the Temple service. The factual historical argument from the song of the Levites accurately reflects music’s honored standing in Jewish tradition. Halevi also enlisted the Talmud and Midrash traditions on the Levites’ singing into the polemic, formulating them in theoretical terms. The second apologetic argument claims that Jews enjoy a musical advantage in the present and not only in the distant, dreamy past. Halevi proclaimed the superiority of melodious speech (cantillation) over metrical poetry.58 Amnon Shiloah defines “melodious speech” as follows: Melodious speech uses a simple type of melody closely related to declamatory recitation. Even when adorned with rich melismatic embellishments, the musical element remains subordinate to the content, structure and punctuation of the text, its major function being to enhance the message inherent in the words. Melodious speech is of particular importance in that it perpetuates the tradition of accented reading of the biblical

56 A line in his famous poem “O Zion, will You Not Ask after the Welfare of Your Prisoners,” reads: “Who will they resemble . . . your Levites and your ministers.” For a possible astrological source, see below, 167, on R. Shabtai Donolo. On the aesthetic aspects of the priestly service, see Avner Glucklich, The Road to Qumran (Tel Aviv: Chemed, 2006) [Heb]. 57 Literally, “a nation that honors music” or “melodies.” 58 Halevi, The Kuzari II:69–77.

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texts which played a decisive role in inculcating knowledge of the sacred writings.59 Melodious speech, then, includes elements of both recitative and music.60 Judah Halevi claimed that the musical tradition of metrical poetry is bound by certain preliminary constructs, whereas the melodious speech typical of Jewish tradition adapts itself to the text, particularly when there is an oral tradition related to it. The advantage of melodious speech is that it is not bound by rhythmical linguistic constructs, and thus fits revelation and tradition, which are spontaneous.61 According to Halevi, “Songs that are not bound by poetic theory and conventional meters can also be enfolded in good melodies and built according to the rules of composition.”62 Biblical cantillations are an important musical expression of this genre’s flexibility. This approach characterizes the preference of oral over written tradition, a view that Halevi proudly supported on both methodological and anti-Karaite polemical grounds.63 The appeal of medieval metrical poetry, which numbers Halevi himself among its most significant and prolific creators,64 is perceived by him as no less than “backwardness and retardation” (takhalifna) and as “discord” (khilāf).65 Judah Halevi may have changed his mind in this regard in later years, or he may have fluctuated between two extremes: one exposes the soul of the poet who, lured by the cultural climate of the surroundings, wrote wondrous metrical poems, while the other is the soul of the thinker and the apologist who protected the Jewish people in exile from their characterization as inferior, and rejected metrical poetry in favor of melodious speech. Generally, this dialectic 59 Amnon Shiloah, “Development of Jewish Liturgical Singing in Spain,” in Moreshet Sepharad: The Sephardi Legacy, vol. 2, ed. Haim Beinart ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1992), 433. On this matter in general and on whether R. Judah Halevi changed his mind over the years, see idem, “Melody and Meter in The Kuzari,” Tatslil 6 (1966): 5–8 [Heb]; Moshe Gil and Ezra Fleischer, Yehuda Halevi and His Circle: 55 Genizah Documents ( Jerusalem: World Union of Jewish Studies, 2001), 67–68 [Heb]. 60 I will not enter here into the precise distinctions between “melodious speech” and recitative. 61 Halevi, The Kuzari II:70. 62 Shiloah, “Melody and Meter,” 7. 63 See Raphael Jospe, Jewish Philosophy: Foundations and Extensions, vol. 2 (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 2008), 35–42. 64 Many have discussed sound, meter, and rhyme in R. Judah Halevi’s poems. See, for example, Schirmann, Studies in the History of Hebrew Poetry and Drama, vol. 1, 84–89. For greater detail, see Ephraim Hazan, The Poetics of the Sephardi Piyyut according to the Liturgical Poetry of Yehuda Halevi ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1986) [Heb]. 65 Halevi, The Kuzari II:74, according to the correction of Baneth and Ben-Shammai, in Halevi, Kitāb al-radd wal-dalīl fī, 82, note on ln. 16. Ibn Tibbon rendered it as ta`utenu u-mirienu (our mistake and our discord), and other translators followed him.

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stance fits Halevi’s stormy and lively personality.66 In any event, Halevi ascribed a musical advantage to the Jewish people not only from the perspective of the remote mythical past and the Temple service but also in the present. The following discussion deals with later forms of Halevi’s apologetic arguments.

Argument (1): Metrical Poetry Halevi presented several views of music in The Kuzari.67 His claim about the musical superiority of the Levites’ songs influenced many philosophers and kabbalists, whereas his claim about the advantage of melodious speech over metrical poetry affected mainly poets, linguists, and grammarians. Sacred poetry was henceforth tied to the uniqueness and exceptional merits of the Jewish people. I begin with the argument on the advantage of melodious speech, which was supported by such thinkers as Profiat Duran68 and R. Shmuel Archivolty (1515–1611).69 Halevi, as noted, fluctuated between writing metrical poetry (like other poets in Spain) and a strong critique of it, a paradox that intensified in later years and assumed new dimensions. While Halevi emphasized the merits of the Jewish people by rejecting metrical poetry, later thinkers pointed to it as a Jewish advantage. In other words, they adopted Halevi’s argument of the Jewish people’s advantage in poetry but directed it to the opposite pole. A younger contemporary of Halevi, R. Abraham ibn Ezra, wrote a famous epigram about the advantage of the Jewish people in sacred poetry, which he included in his “Introduction to the First Method” on the Book of Psalms. He writes: The Ishmaelites, their songs70 are of love and passion, And the Edomites—of wars and vengeance, And the Greeks—of wisdom and schemes, And the Indians71—of parables and riddles, And the Israelites—of songs and praise To the Lord of Hosts.72 66 See Hazan, The Poetics of the Sephardi Piyyut, 37–132. 67 See ch. 5 below. 68 Duran, Ma`aseh Efod, 21. In Rappel’s reprint, 789. On Duran’s approach, see Bland, The Artless Jew, 86–88. 69 See Adler, RISM, 98–99. 70 In the “Introduction to the First Method,” “all their songs” (Simon, Four Approaches, 165, which is the source of the variant versions). 71 In the “Introduction to the First Method”—“and the songs of the people of India.” 72 In the “Introduction to the First Method”—“and only the songs of Israel are for teaching them that He alone is their God. And our master David is the one who sings the song of the

Music and the Jewish People

This epigram is, at least partially, built according to meter in the Hebrew version, and ibn Ezra could be assumed to be hinting at sacred metrical poetry. And yet, he himself wrote sacred poems, such as Eshtahaveh appayim artsa [I will bow down my face to the earth], based neither on meter nor rhyme.73 Thus, it is a plausible assumption that the advantage ibn Ezra ascribed to the Jewish people lies in the actual writing of sacred poetry (which is not necessarily metrical), without assuming that he abandoned the controversial approach adopted by Halevi. Later, however, the metrical attributes of Jewish poetry came to be viewed as the reason for its superiority. One example is the approach of R. Isaac Abravanel, who emphasized that Jewish poets in Muslim Spain were superior to their Muslim and Christian counterparts because of their metrical poetry. Abravanel traced the source of poetry written in exact meters (yated and tenu`ah, long and short vowel movements) to the Spanish poetry that flourished in Muslim Spain. From there, he claimed, it spread to Provence, to Catalonia, and to Aragon. In his commentary on Isaiah 5:1, he writes: And this type of poetic craft is divine, sweeter than honey and the honeycomb,74 and has been used in our language with greater perfection than in any other. The truth is that we have not found poetry of this kind, either in the words of the prophets or among the sages of the Talmud75 because, in my view, it began in exile, among Jewish sages in the lands of the Ishmaelites. It is from their actions that they learned this poetic craft and wisely applied it to our holy language with stronger pride and power76 than what the Ishmaelites themselves did in their language. And these metrical poems were also found among the sages of Edom, in Latin and other foreign languages, each nation in its own, but not as perfect as those written in the holy tongue in the land of

73 74 75 76

Lord, and this book [Psalms] is named after him.” Before this passage, ibn Ezra wrote “and blessed be the Lord who sanctified Himself by Himself.” The “Introduction” was published in R. Abraham ibn Ezra: Anthology, vol. 1, ed. David Kahana (Warsaw, 1894), 86 [Heb]. See Israel Davidson, Thesaurus of Medieval Hebrew Poetry (Newark: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1924), vol. 2, 140, §597; Israel Levin, Abraham ibn Ezra: His Life and His Poetry (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 1976), 213 [Heb]. See Jefim Schirmann, The History of Hebrew Poetry in Muslim Spain, ed. Ezra Fleischer ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press and Yad Yizhak Ben-Zvi, 1995), 63 [Heb]. According to Psalms 19:11. The meter of biblical poetry is not as exact as that of Spanish poetry. According to Genesis 49:3.

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the Ishmaelites. Later, this craft shifted to the sages of our nation who were in Provence, Catalonia, and Aragon, and they spoke of God and the secrets of wisdom, for He is manifold in understanding77—what is sweeter than honey? What is stronger than a lion?78 And wherever the sages of Israel were found in their exile, this poetry spread, whether little or much.79 The talent of the Jewish poets, then, ensured the superiority of their metrical poetry over the one found in Muslim sources. Abravanel did not address the musical dimension of the poetry directly. In his comments ad locum, he painstakingly noted that the metrical poems of Jewish poets were superior “even when read without any melody,” though the musical dimension was usually an integral part of poems and piyyutim. The persistent perception, as noted, was that sound is inherent in poetry and cannot be detached from it.

Argument (2): The Song of the Levites Halevi’s other argument deals with the Levites’ musical advantage in the service of the Temple. The spiritual leader of Ashkenaz pietists at the end of the twelfth and beginning of the thirteenth centuries, R. Judah he-Hasid, noted that the Levites would sing quietly and “draw out” their singing.80 Maimonides offered a halakhic formulation of the song of the Levites and determined that, during the sacrifices at festivals and new moons, the priests sounded the trumpets and the Levites chanted:81 It was the officer over the singers82 that selected each day the singers who would stand upon the Platform to chant the

77 According to Job 11:6. 78 According to Judges 14:18. 79 Abravanel, Perush Abravanel al Nevi’im Acharonim ( Jerusalem, 1969), 39. 80 R. Judah he-Hasid, Sefer Hasidim, ed. Reuben Margaliot ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1973), §315, 246 [Heb]. In the Wistrizky ed. (Berlin, 1891), §839, 212 [Heb]. 81 Maimonides, Code, Laws of Vessels and Ministers 3:5 (see The Book of Temple Service, trans. Mendell Lewittes, in The Code of Maimonides [New Haven: Yale University Press, 1957]). 82 According to II Chronicles 5:12–13, 23:13, and many other places. The Babylonian Talmud had already determined that the singing had an instrumental accompaniment: “Just as the trumpeters [performed] with instruments, so did the singers [perform] with instruments” (BT Sukkah 51a). Other sources identify the chanting as unaccompanied.

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(prescribed) song by voice. At his command they would blow the trumpet over the offerings.83 These determinations were subsequently cited to extol the role of music in the Temple service. Below are several examples of how the conceptions of the Levites’s songs influenced the writings of philosophers and kabbalists. First, note the encounter between Halakhah and Aggadah. The author of the thirteenth-century Sefer ha-Chinukh discusses the musical involvement of the Levites in the Temple service, delving into the quality of their performance: The song that the Levites would utter was by mouth; for principally, song is by mouth. But others would be standing there, who played on musical instruments: some were Levites, and some were Israelites of distinguished lineage who were acceptable to intermarry with the kohanim. For none might ever go up on the platform but a person of distinguished descent. There were never fewer than nine lutes84 and more might be added without limit. Of cymbals,85 though, there was but one [set]. It would seem that the reason is that the sound of cymbals is loud, and somewhat agitating; if there were many, the other musical instruments that were there would not be heard, and certainly not the chant of the mouth. As for the flutes on which they played, theirs was a reed flute,86 because its sound is sweet.87 The author of Sefer ha-Chinukh, as is well known, fully integrated the Halakhah and abstract ideas. By summarizing the halakhot beside the reasons for the 83 Maimonides, Code, Laws of Vessels and Ministers 7:5. 84 According to M. Arakhin 2:3. 85 In literal exegeses, this instrument is described according to Psalms 150:5; I Chronicles 13:8, and more. See, for example, the commentary of R. David Kimhi ad locum and Rashi’s commentary on the Chronicles verse. Ibn Ezra wrote his well-known commentary on this verse in Psalms: “Generally, there is no way of knowing the instruments they played because there were many instruments in the lands of the Ishmaelites that the people of Edom had never seen, and there were instruments in Edom that the sages of Ishmael had not heard.” 86 See M. Arakhin 2:3. 87 R. Pinhas ha-Levi (evidently), Sefer ha-Chinukh: The Book of [Mitzvah] Education, trans. Charles Wengrov, vol. 4 ( Jerusalem and New York: Feldheim, 1984), §394, 143.

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commandments, he followed Maimonides’ approach in the Code. He addressed the instrumental aspect of the Levites’ performance, meaning the combination of the lutes and the cymbals, which he envisaged as percussion instruments. The sweetness of sound assumed for this author a quasi-halakhic aura. Consider now the purely philosophical aspect. Halevi’s argument on the Levites’ song reawakened in Provence at the end of the fourteenth and beginning of the fifteenth centuries. The Kuzari evoked interest among various thinkers, who wrote detailed commentaries on it. These thinkers were committed rationalists and their commentaries became a bridge between Halevi’s conservative approach and medieval rationalism. The circle of The Kuzari’s commentators, disciples of R. Solomon b. Menachem (Prat Maimon), added two further advantages to Halevi’s claims: a) melodic diversity: “They would play one song for one sacrifice and a different one for another” (R. Shlomo b. Judah of Lunel);88 b) instrumental balance: “One time they sounded trumpets, and another time they played a different melody without trumpets” (R. Nethanel Caspi).89 Besides the commentators of The Kuzari in Provence, other thinkers endorsed the musical advantages that Halevi had ascribed to the Jewish people but without tying them directly to Halevi’s heritage. Several examples follow. R. Samuel ibn Sasson, who was active in Spain in the first half of the fourteenth century, pointed not only to the song of the Levites but also to their melodies and wrote a song devoted to the singers’ poverty.90 Wishing to exalt singing, he referred directly to the Temple service.91 R. Abraham Bibago, one of the more profound late medieval Spanish thinkers and author of Derekh Emunah (written around 1480), endorses the

88 Printed in Dov Schwartz, ed., Commentary on the Kuzari: Heshek Cheshek Shelomo by R. Shelomo ben Yehuda of Lunel, Annotated Critical Edition (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2007), 191 [Heb]. 89 Nethanel Caspi, Commentary on The Kuzari, Paris Ms. 677, 55a (printed in Schwartz, Commentary on the Kuzari, note 427). For additional discussions in the circle of The Kuzari’s commentators, see Schwartz, Commentary on the Kuzari, index, under “music.” 90 See Schirmann, Studies in the History of Hebrew Poetry and Drama, vol. 1, 407. 91 Haim Chamiel, ed. Avnei ha-Shoham: A Collection of Poems by Samuel ibn Sasson ( Jerusalem: Sura, 1962), 43, lns. 22–25 [Heb].

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musicians’ class advantage (“the Levites who sing on the exaltation platform”) and their political advantage (“David King of Israel”).92 R. Yosef b. Abraham Hayyun went further and claimed that the purpose of the Book of Psalms was to provide material for the Levites’ song: Its first intention [of the Book of Psalms] is to create songs and praises for the Levites to exalt God with them and sing them on the platform when sacrifices are offered. . . . Levites and Israelites of distinguished descent would then stand there, since only those of distinguished lineage93 can ascend to the platform, to play harps, flutes, lyres, cymbals, and others.94 R. Yitzhak b. Hayyim b. Abraham Hacohen, a Spanish exile, adapted Halevi’s approach to the rationalists’ view. For medieval rationalists, as noted, the very engagement in the study of the sciences was the most sublime ideal,95 and R. Yitzhak claimed that the Levites’ song was, in a way, a preparation for their intellectual attainments.96 The circle of The Kuzari’s commentators mentioned above also created a synthesis between Halevi’s conservative perspectives and rationalism but, in contrast to R. Yitzhak, they did not apply it to music. R. Judah Halevi’s views influenced Kabbalah,97 and many kabbalists explored the connection between the Temple service and music.98 R. Isaac ibn Sahula, a thirteenth-century kabbalist, argued that the title of Song of Songs was based on the song of the Levites. His writings convey various conceptions of the music that characterizes singing at the Temple. Ibn Sahula asks why the title is “Song of Songs” rather than “Parable of Parables” or “Metaphor of Metaphors,”

92 Abraham Bibago, Derekh Emunah (Constantinople, 1522; offset, Jerusalem, 1970), part 2, section 3, 46b [Heb]. 93 According to Maimonides, Code, Laws of Vessels and Ministers 3:3. See also BT Arakhin 11a, and more. 94 Cited in Abraham Gross, Rabbi Joseph ben Abraham Hayyun: Leader of the Lisbon Jewish Community and His Literary Work (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 1993), 175–176 [Heb]. 95 See above, 52–61. 96 Shiloah, “Development of Jewish Liturgical Singing in Spain,” 725. 97 See, for example, Mordechai Pachter, “‘The Root of Faith is the Root of Heresy’ in the Teaching of R. Azriel of Gerona,” Kabbalah: Journal for the Study of Jewish Mystical Texts 4 (1999): 315–341 [Heb]. 98 Moshe Idel, “Conceptualization of Music in Jewish Mysticism,” in Enchanting Powers: Music in World’s Religions, ed. Lawrence E. Sullivan (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1997), 161–169.

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given that this book was perceived for many years as a paradigm of allegory. He answered as follows: It was indeed right for the sage to call it Song of Songs rather than by another name because the science of song was known in the nation at the time,99 and the Levites would sing in the Temple service, as it is said, “who stand to minister there before the Lord” (Deuteronomy 18:7). And tradition teaches that to minister before the Lord means to sing,100 and this song was great and awesome, a crown of glory and a diadem of beauty [tsefirat tif’arah].101 Its joyfulness, as sung and played, awakens the soul while the holy spirit glitters in it, and the soul then rises and attains supreme apprehensions it could not have attained before. This splendid song—a voice that the singers emit in fear, in awe, and in holiness—raises and brings down, lengthens and shortens, and emanates, as it were, from the song of the supernal ministers.102 . . . May the Song of Songs emanate from the celestial songs that were chosen to be heard at the holy Temple.103

99 This style appears to draw on the passage from The Kuzari cited above, 101–102. 100 Midrash Tanna’im on Deuteronomy 18:7; Numbers Rabba 6:10. See also BT Arakhin 11a. 101 According to Isaiah 28:5. In Adler, RISM, 173, and in Moshe Idel, The Mystical Experience in Abraham Abulafia, trans. Jonathan Chipman (Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1988), 59, the reference is to tif’eret. 102 Various studies have discussed singing in early Kabbalah. See, for example, Haviva Pedayah, Name and Sanctuary in the Teaching of R. Isaac the Blind: A Comparative Study in the Writings of the Earliest Kabbalists ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2001), chs. 7 and 8 [Heb]. R. Shem-Tov b. Shem-Tov (a Spanish kabbalist active at the end of the fourteenth and in the early fifteenth centuries who was extremely critical of philosophers) cited long passages, apparently from the writings of the circle’s members, and concluded as follows: “The rabbis said, How do we know that even embryos in their mothers’ wombs sang? Because it is said, ‘Bless God in the great congregation [lit. choir], the Lord, O you who are of Israel’s fountain!’ (Psalms 68:27; according to BT Ketubot 7b; BT Sotah 30b, and more).” Shem-Tov b. Shem-Tov, Sefer ha-Emunot (Ferrara, 1557), part 8, ch. 5, 89b. According to R. Shem-Tov b. Shem-Tov, choir singing comes as joy and thanksgiving as the author apprehends the endeavor of the supernal ministers and the emanation flowing from them. In Sefer ha-Emunot, part 8, ch. 14, 99a–100a, R. Shem-Tov b. Shem-Tov discusses at length the inner voice heard in prophecy. 103 A. Green, “Rabbi Isaac ibn Sahula’s Commentary on the Song of Songs,” in Proceedings of the Second International Conference on the History of Jewish Mysticism: The Beginnings of Jewish Mysticism in Medieval Europe, ed. J. Dan, Jerusalem Studies in Jewish Thought 6 (1987) [Heb]. This passage appears in Adler, RISM, 173; Idel, The Mystical Experience in Abraham Abulafia, 59.

Music and the Jewish People

The mention of the Levites clarifies that ibn Sahula envisions a mutual connection between the words and the tune or cantillation. Only “the science of song” can explain the noble dimension of the Song of Songs and the song of the Levites. Ibn Sahula’s arguments about the merits of singing in general, and the song of the Levites in particular, emphasize several advantages of the cantillations: 1) help in apprehending mysterious contents (“attains supreme apprehensions”); 2) disposition and preparation for heavenly inspiration (“the holy spirit glitters in it”); 3) an expression of emanation (“emanates . . . from the song of supernal ministers”). These advantages are discussed at length below. Importantly, ibn Sahula’s approach clarifies that the song of the Levites was an ideal model of music and, in fact, an earthly expression of the divine song. We can now answer the question about the name of the biblical book. According to ibn Sahula, Song of Songs deals with: 1) singing that derives from heavenly singing (“supernal ministers”); 2) singing that was part of a rich Jewish musical tradition, a further expression of which is the song of the Levites. One expression of the direct and indirect influence of R. Judah Halevi in the realm of music is also evident in the approach of two famous sixteenthcentury kabbalists—R. Abraham Saba and R. Meir ibn Gabbai. Saba wrote that the Levites were meant “to worship God and sing in order to chase away all manners of harsh measures derived from the power of judgment [din].”104 This approach has magic resonances: the Levites sing to dispel the power of judgment (defensive magic), a perception of the Levites’ song that was also present in subsequent generations.105 The influence of R. Judah Halevi is also evident

104 R. Abraham Saba, Tsror ha-Mor, Be-ha-Alotkha (Warsaw, 1879), 7c [Heb]. Note R. Shalom Buzaglo’s observation in his commentary on Tikkunei ha-Zohar: “As we know, music is from the side of [the sefirah of] gevurah” (Kise Melekh [Amsterdam, 1769], 35b). 105 In Hasidic thought, R. Yehuda Aryeh Leib (1847–1905), the Admor of Gur, notes: “These songs mark a victory over all nations who, against their will, came to fear the glory of His greatness, may He be blessed” (Sefat Emet, 1885, cited in Sefat Emet on Numbers [Shafir: Merkaz

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in the polemical approach of ibn Gabbai, who opposed Maimonides’ view on the existence of a rationalist philosophical tradition in the Jewish people. Ibn Gabbai claimed that Jews had never dealt with philosophy and, more than once, relied on The Kuzari for evidence. Ibn Gabbai wrote that the Jews had indeed shown extensive knowledge of technical and scientific matters, among them also music. In his view, “it is unnecessary to cite their statements on the Levites singing on the platform and so forth”106 to prove the musical superiority of the Jewish people. Traces of this argument are discernible in Jewish thought during the Renaissance. Worth noting is the background of the conceptual reaction to the Jewish advantage in music. Musical education was widespread in Italy during the Renaissance and in the early modern period, and Jews were involved not only in musical theory but also in composition.107 In letters written in his youth, Joseph b. Yaakov (Italy, second half of the sixteenth century) attested to the systematic study of harp playing and other instruments. He referred to the teaching of music as “teaching knowledge and guiding a person to play well.”108 Halakhists in Renaissance Italy spiritedly and relatively openly addressed the halakhic standing of music. Thinkers of that time and place would thus obviously support the claim about the Jewish people’s advantage regarding music in the Temple, an issue that scholars have already discussed.109 This

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Shapira, 2003], 93 [Heb]). The Admor of Gur added that synagogues and study houses “can create a kind of Levites’ song.” On the magic aspects of music, see below, 166–182. Meir ibn Gabbai, Avodah ha-Kodesh, vol. 2 ( Jerusalem, 1992), 273 [Heb]. Historians have reviewed these developments in several works. See, for example, Moses A. Shulvass, Jewish Life in Renaissance Italy (New York: Shulvass, 1955), 226–231 [Heb]; Cecil Roth, The Jews in the Renaissance (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1959), 271–304. Musicologists such as Eric Werner, Israel Adler, and Don Harrán have dealt at length with this issue. See Don Harrán, “Tradition and Innovation in Jewish Music of the Later Renaissance,” in Essential Papers on Jewish Culture in Renaissance and Baroque Italy, ed. David B. Ruderman (New York: New York University Press, 1992), 474–501; idem, Salamone Rossi, Jewish Musician in Late Renaissance Mantua (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999); idem, “Was Rabbi Leon Modena A Composer?,” in The Lion Shall Roar: Leon Modena and His World, ed. Raphael Bonfil ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2003), 195–248. On a musical work that was available in a limited number of copies in Italy, see Shifra Baruchson, Books and Readers: The Reading Interests of Italian Jews at the Close of the Renaissance (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 1993), 174 [Heb]. Shlomo Simonson, “The World of a Jewish Adolescent Boy in the Renaissance,” in Hagut Ivrit Be’Eyropa: Studies on Jewish Themes by Contemporary European Scholars, ed. Menahem Zohori and Arie Tartakover (Tel Aviv: Yavneh, 1969), 339 [Heb]. See, for example, Israel Adler, “The Rise of the Art of Music in the Italian Ghetto,” in Jewish Medieval and Renaissance Studies, ed. Alexander Altmann (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1967), 321–364; Raphael Bonfil, “On the Uniqueness of the Jewish People in Italy during the Renaissance,” Sinai 77 (1975): 38, 45 [Heb].

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argument appears in the writings of non-Jewish thinkers as well. In his book De Republica Hebraeorum (Bologna, 1582), Carlo Sigonio devoted two chapters to the Levites’ singing and to the singing about sacrifices.110 At the end of the sixteenth century, R. Abraham b. David Portaleone expanded on the argument that music at the Temple had been of far higher quality than non-Jewish music. In his encyclopedic work Shiltei ha-Gibborim, he also devoted several chapters to a description of the musical aspects of the Temple service, delving into descriptions of the instruments, the musical education, and so forth.111 Portaleone targeted the “philosophers” (mitpalsefim) in his discussion. The song of the Levites was perceived as a noble expression of music not only from a polemical, but also a religious, mystical, and moral perspective. R. Schneur Zalman of Lyady (1745–1812), the founder of Habad Hasidism known as ha-Admor ha-Zaken (the old Admor), characterized the Levites’ music as the culmination of the love of God that follows contemplation. This love, founded on the sefirah of binah, leads to the consummation of the soul. According to R. Schneur Zalman, “the service of the Levites was to raise their voices in gladness, song, and joy,112 singing a melody and a tune to and fro,113 resembling this strong love as a flame emerging from lightning [bazak].”114 Habad thought adopted the approach of Muslim theology (Kalām), stating that reality appears and disappears endlessly, and it is God who creates it at every given instant.115 In this process, called “to and fro” (following Ezekiel 1:14), the flow of music reflects the ontological principle of reality’s constant destruction

110 Carlo Sigonio, The Hebrew Republic, trans. Peter Wyetzner ( Jerusalem: Shalem Press, 2010), 136–137, 196–198. 111 Published in Adler, RISM, 246. See Don Harrán, “In Search of the ‘Song of Zion’: Abraham Portaleone on Music in the Ancient Temple,” European Journal of Jewish Studies 4 (2010): 215–239; Daniel Sandler, The Music Chapters of “Shiltei ha-Gibborim” by Avraham Portaleone (PhD diss., Tel Aviv University, Tel Aviv, 1980); idem, “Music of the Temple in ‘Shiltei ha-Gibborim’ by Avraham Portaleone (Mantua 1612),” in Garment and Core: Jews and their Musical Experiences, ed. Eitan Avitsur, Marina Ritzarev, and Edwin Seroussi (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2012), 245–252 [Heb]. 112 In another version, “and thanksgiving.” 113 According to Ezekiel 1:14. 114 Schneur Zalman of Lyady, Likkutei Amarim, 1st ed. (New York: Karnei Hod Torah, 1982), 13–15 [Heb]. On the song of the Levites and binah, see Shmuel Stern, The Song of the Heart: Song and Music in Worship ( Jerusalem: Stern, 1994), 5–6 [Heb]. 115 The difference is that, according to the Kalām, the process is sequential: God first annihilates and then renews. By contrast, according to Habad, disappearance and renewed appearance are simultaneous. See Dov Schwartz, Habad Thought (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2010), 57–58 [Heb].

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and creation. Sounds go up and down, emerge and vanish. According to the old Admor, being and non-being are simultaneously reflected in the dynamic of a sung tune. Finally, note the argument of R. Eliyahu Mordechai Hacohen, head of the Atni’el yeshivah, who claimed that the Levites sang when the wine was poured because the power of music was to reveal the concealed, just as wine exposes secrets. By contrast, R. Hacohen characterized the priestly service as silent. Relying on kabbalistic terminology, he wrote that the Levites’ singing conveyed the revealed dimension of music and, implicitly, the divine sefirot: We have two kinds of melodies too: there are melodies that express the various human apprehensions, and there is a melody through which humans convey the screen that separates them from the ineffable divine and is wholly self-obliteration and communion. Humans do not attempt to convey rational understanding through it but humbly face the infinite in self-obliteration. Behind the screen of music, divine silence rules. Humans who wish to reach it but feel they cannot do so through the usual instruments, convey the distance on the one hand and the will to draw close on the other, a kind of “fro and to.” One thereby can, despite the distance, convey the bond with the sublime En-Sof.116 R. Hacohen also tried to connect the priests to music, even though their way is characterized by silence. Unwilling to confine himself to the superiority of the Levites’ song (an expression of the sefirot), he added the priests as well to the nation’s musical advantage (an expression of the En-Sof) and concluded: “May it be God’s will that we shall be deserving of the Levites’ song and the priests’ silence, in the service of God and in the building of the Temple speedily in our days, Amen.”117 The Levites’ song was thus a key argument in discussions about the Jewish people’s musical advantage, at times highlighting the polemical and at times the utopian element. In any event, the Levites’ service at the Temple represented a paradigm of heavenly music.

116 Published in Shai Malka, ed., The Song of the Living: Music, Midrash and Memory (Atni’el: Beit Va`ad le-Torah, 2005), 19 [Heb]. For further discussion, see Schwartz, Kinor, 264. 117 Ibid., 22.

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Argument (3): The Great Leaders Judah Halevi anchored music in the national existence of the Jewish people. He presented the Jews as involved in musical traditions and ascribing great importance to them. R. Abraham ibn Ezra also noted: “The Jewish people had many joyful melodies before David.”118 One argument of Halevi based on the Jews’ connection with music was that David and Samuel played a musical instrument, implying that the political and spiritual leaders of the Jewish people were talented musicians. This argument gradually spread in various works. One example is the exegesis of R. Joshua ibn Shuib, a fourteenth-century Spanish preacher, on the Torah portion Naso. He praises King David as follows: And he was a great poet and had a sweet voice, and succeeded in all his actions, as is written “wherever he turned he put them to the worse” (I Samuel 14:47), and it is written “for the Lord was with him” (I Samuel 18:14), and he is praised by Doeg [the Edomite] as a skillful player and a man of valor,119 and so forth.120 King David’s distinction as a musician became part of the Israeli musical discourse.121 On December 17, 1997, at a concert celebrating the sixtieth anniversary of the Israeli Philharmonic Orchestra, Minister of Education Zevulun Hammer (1936–1998) declared, “Had not the candelabrum been set as the symbol of the State of Israel, we would surely have chosen the [King David’s]

118 Ibn Ezra’s Introduction and Commentary on Psalms 1–2 (The “First Rescension”), in Simon, Four Approaches, 320–321, lns. 139–140, where he comments on Psalms 4:1 as follows: “The Israelites performed many melodies before the time of David.” See Simon, Four Approaches, 233–234. The conclusion that secular songs were also included is not persuasive. 119 According to I Samuel 16:18. 120 Joshua ibn Shuib, Sefer Derashot R. Joshua ibn Shuib, ed. Zeev Metzger, vol. 2 ( Jerusalem: Machon Lev Sameach, 1992), 328 [Heb]. The Babylonian Talmud (Sanhedrin 93b) presents David’s musical skill as a metaphor for excelling at Torah study. See Numbers Rabba 13:10; Ruth Rabba 4:3, and more. 121 Israel Eldad (1910–1996), in the introduction to his Hebrew translation ( Jerusalem: Schocken, 1982) of the book by Walter Kaufmann (1921–1980), Nietzsche: Philosopher, Psychologist, Antichrist (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1974) tells the following anecdote: “In one of his visits to my home . . . I asked him: ‘How is Dionysius possible in Jerusalem?’—according to the well-known Kantian formulation of the question. He [Kaufmann] laughed at the very question, hesitated slightly, and answered: ‘David dancing before the ark of the Lord.’ I was stunned by the insight and the quickness.” Dancing and music play the same role here.

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harp as our symbol.” Hammer addressed the combination of the valiant warrior and the musician in the figure of King David. He then added: No one has succeeded in taking away the harp from us. We hang up our lyres by the streams of Babylon,122 we took them with us wherever we went. Our joys and our sorrows were expressed in song. A persecuted, destroyed, and struggling people—never ceased singing. Music was for us a ladder of existence that we climbed in all circumstances of history striving to ascend to universal beauty. . . . We have a people here that never ceased to love music, even in the storm of wars.123 Presenting King David as a musician became a national endeavor. The emphasis on the “national” preeminence of the Jewish people in connection with music (regaring both composition and performance) became a natural and self-evident motif in Jewish thought after Judah Halevi. The musical context of David’s presence in Scripture is etched in the public consciousness because of his playing to assuage Saul’s ill spirit and for being the writer of the psalms. The musical preeminence was thus emphasized especially in the instrumental perception of music.124 The connection of the great leaders to music conveys a distinct claim, wellsuited to Judah Halevi’s apologetic arguments. In many ways, Halevi did shape the course and the character of the controversy surrounding music. Although The Kuzari did not influence rationalist thought in the time and place of its writing, and only kabbalists took it seriously, in the perspective of centuries its claims were not forgotten and often determined the nature of polemical claims. The Jewish people’s connection to music is no exception in this regard.

Torah, Nationality, and Music Music’s role in the Temple, the superiority of Hebrew poetry, and the “theft of the sciences” motif are the key apologetic aspects of the Jewish people’s musical

122 According to Psalms 137:2. 123 In David Alexander, “Faith, Truth and Art: Notes on the Relationship between the Tradition and the Theater,” in Zevulun Hammer: In Memoriam, ed. Yitzhak Heckelman ( Jerusalem: Ministry of Education, 1999), 388 [Heb]. 124 See ch. 4 below.

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preeminence, but they are in no way the only ones. I will now explore several additional ways of presenting musical advantages, beginning with the Haskalah and up to the Zionist movement.

Inclusion in the Torah Another argument for the uniqueness of music in Judaism is its connection to the Torah and Torah study. Some claimed that knowledge of the Torah automatically includes knowledge of the sciences, and music has a significant role. One such argument was ascribed by R. Yisrael of Shklov (1770–1839) to R. Elijah, “the Gaon of Vilna” (1720–1797), who himself ascribed it to his friend, R. Menachem Mendel of Shklov: He said as follows: All the sciences necessarily resort to our holy Torah and are included in it, and he knew them all well and mentioned them—the science of algebra, and triangles, and geometry, and the science of music, which he praised greatly. He used to say that most of the cantillations, the mysteries of the Levites’ songs, and the mysteries of Tikkunei ha-Zohar cannot be known without it and, through it, people can die when their soul is consumed by my tunes,125 and the dead can be revived through the mysteries hidden in the Torah. He said: “Many melodies and many attributes did Moses, of blessed memory, bring down from Sinai, and all the rest are made up from them.”126 The Gaon’s disciple, R. Hillel Rivlin of Shklov (1758–1838), had already claimed that “many well-known tales about various wonderful inventions by our rabbi are in geometry, the natural sciences, botany, medicine, music, and so forth.”127 The approach ascribed to the Gaon of Vilna, whereby the study of

125 The author may have been hinting at the song of the sirens. See ch. 2 above. 126 Moses, then, brought down several melodies and all others are made up of them. Cited from the introduction to the book Pe’at ha-Shulchan (Safed, 1836), introduction pages in this edition are unnumbered. See Immanuel Etkes, The Gaon of Vilna: The Man and His Image, trans. Jeffrey M. Green (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2002), 20–21. For stories, traditions, and quotes from the Gaon on the topic of music, see Assaf Zimmerman, “Cantors and Music in the Teachings of the Gaon of Vilna,” Dukhan 15 (2000): 81–87 [Heb]. 127 R. Hillel Rivlin, Sefer Kol ha-Tor, ed. Yosef Rivlin ( Jerusalem, 1994), 124 [Heb].

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Torah automatically includes the study of the sciences, vastly influenced the ethos of Lithuanian yeshivot. Historians’ discussions on the Gaon’s connection to the Haskalah are irrelevant to the tradition tying him to a claim about the value of music for the Jewish people. The tradition related to the Gaon formulates a dual argument: first, we must deal with music to gain a better understanding of the Torah, and second, through deep involvement with the Torah, we acquire musical knowledge.

A Cultural Advantage Another aspect of the Jewish people’s place vis-à-vis music emerges in the late stages of the Wissenschaft des Judentums movement, which launched the academic study of the sources of Judaism. Johanan Kühn was born in Poland in 1870. He was an autodidact regarding music and studied for six months at the Strasbourg Conservatory. He was drawn into the Haskalah and worked for many years as a journalist.128 A group of scholars, among the last remnants of the Wissenschaft des Judentums movement, gave their imprimatur to his book Music in Scripture, Talmud, and Kabbalah. Samuel Krauss (1866–1948), Avigdor Aptowitzer (1871–1942), and Aharon Kaminka (1866–1950) noted that the role of Jewish sources in the realm of music still awaits proper study and, in the introduction to his book, Kühn justifies this situation: Most scholars of music were not sufficiently versed in Jewish sources and their knowledge of them was mainly second-hand, drawn from superficial and at times even flawed translations. In turn, most scholars of ancient sources, who were versed in Jewish sciences and in all branches of Hebrew literature, were non-musical.129 Wissenschaft des Judentums scholars, who strove to prove the cultural superiority of Judaism, did not focus on the study of music. Kühn himself tried to present a balanced picture of music in ancient sources,130 but his book is not free of the

128 See Y. Landau, “45 Years of Johanan Kühn’s Literary Endeavor,” The World of the Synagogue and the Cantors 6, no. 26 (Nisan 1936): 9–11 [Yiddish]. 129 Johanan Kühn, Music in Scripture, Talmud, and Kabbalah (Vienna: Menorah, 1930), 10–11 [Heb]. 130 The kabbalistic sources mentioned in this work are mainly from the Zohar.

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general trend typical of this movement—an excessive emphasis on the contribution of Judaism. He writes: The immense value of music in the life of the Hebrew nation was unquestionable, and its influence was prominently widespread in all strata of the people and in their spiritual and material activities. Its sounds were everywhere—from the magnificent palaces and the beautiful temples to the winegrowers’ cabins and the shepherds’ tents. It is also indisputable that, among all the ancient nations, none ever surpassed the Hebrew people’s singing.131 Inadvertently, Kühn returned to Halevi’s style when he pondered “how great . . . the value of music [was] in the eyes of the Hebrew nation and how strong was its influence over it.”132 Kühn was convinced that, already in antiquity, the Jewish people made use of musical notation, of polyphonic singing, and of women’s singing in religious rituals, and claimed that the struggle against the Hellenistic world included resistance against foreign musical influence as well. The renewal of worship in the Second Temple included a return of the Levites’ original singing. By the time Kühn published his book, the research project for preserving the musical traditions of the Jewish people had already struck roots. Participants in this project were the Society for Jewish Folklore Music, the Yuval and Yavneh publishing houses, and so forth.133 In the same year, Idelsohn published his monumental volume on Jewish music, Jewish Music in Its Historical Development. All these endeavors dimmed the uniqueness of Kühn’s book. In its last years, Wissenschaft des Judentums devoted minimal and sporadic attention to the musical realm and Kühn attempted to correct this. Soon after, academic and musicological scholarship, both in Israel and abroad, began to research the musical sources of the Jewish people. Undeniably, traces of the spirit endorsed by Wissenschaft des Judentums regarding the cultural preeminence of the Jewish people ultimately penetrated the musical realm as well.

131 Kühn, Music in Scripture, 25. 132 Ibid., 34. 133 See Schwartz, Kinor, 226.

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National Originality: (1) Zionism Does the national awakening herald a new chapter in musical creativity? Both explicitly and implicitly, Zionism did set aesthetic goals.134 It confronted the challenge of the Jews’ original creativity and, naturally, sought the national characteristics unique to the Jewish people in the arts as well. Zionism directed the thrust of its cultural energy to critical matters such as the issue of languages, the revival of Hebrew, and the attitude toward Jewish religion and Jewish literature. Music as part of a culture of leisure occupied a significant role in the yishuv, but theoretical and philosophical questions touching on the renewal of musical creativity in the Zionist movement were more of a concern to composers and music critics and less so to ideologues.135 One example is the discrepancy between Yoel Engel, who determined that the connection of the ancient Jewish people to music was deeper than that of the Greeks, and Kühn, who cast doubts on Engel’s claims.136 We can, however, point to several instances when musical aspects were involved in the renewed search for original Jewish creativity that began with the rise of Zionism. The artistic trends of the new national movement are reflected in the work of Achad ha-Am (Asher Ginsberg, 1856–1927). In “Man Inside,” Achad ha-Am expressed his criticism of the Haskalah, which he felt had confined itself to external changes while neglecting the inner national presence that could burst forth in the individual and the collective. Achad ha-Am masterfully presented the distinction between inside and outside through a set of conceptual dualities (form and content, imitation and assimilation, national spirit and universal spirit, improving the nation and improving the individual, and so forth). He conveyed the Haskalah’s neglect of the inside—the national immanent spirit—and claimed that its writers had not endeavored to enhance the living spirit inside it [the people], the moral and social qualities that had been the very source of the sad visions that had shaped its way of life. They thereby succeeded in making the new external forms appealing to the people, and the children of Israel began to adorn themselves, to change their language and their clothes, to love

134 See, for example, Boaz Neumann, Land and Desire in Early Zionism, trans. Haim Watzman (Waltham, MA: Brandeis University Press, 2011), 60. 135 See Schwartz, Kinor, 228. 136 Kühn, Music in Scripture, 24–25.

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beautiful songs in theaters and synagogues, and to pursue a knowledge that brings honor and wealth to those possessing it.137 Achad ha-Am’s demand to revive the national culture as an original and independent expression of human culture in general indicates that he also had in mind the renaissance of the arts, and particularly of music. According to his description, music is a central and essential characteristic of the attitude of openness and self-obliteration the maskilim adopted toward non-Jewish culture. Achad ha-Am held that original musical creativity was impossible without the presence of inner national powers. The external musical form cannot be sustained without the immanent national content. Cultural renaissance is indeed a dominant motif in Achad ha-Am’s thought, with musical renaissance a significant element of it. The thrust of his educational and national endeavor, however, was toward creative directions that seemed imperative at the time—literature and belles lettres. Achad ha-Am’s approach in many ways reflects the place of the musical element in the thought that developed with the Zionist movement. Music was appreciated as an expression of creativity, and helped convey admiration for the surrounding culture. Still, it was never at the top of Zionism’s educational and national interests. Another example of the Jewish people’s connection to musical creativity is found in the claims of an important Zionist-socialist thinker, Dov Ber Borochov (1881–1917). It merits note that, at the time of the Second Aliyah, several Zionist figures dealt with aesthetic issues. Many among them were writers whose aim was, as it were, to allow Jews to be a “normal” people again, given the widespread perception that Jews in exile had played a minor role in the aesthetic realm. Below I deal with the aesthetic approach of one such thinker, Micha Josef Berdyczewski.138 In his youth, Borochov wrote a provocative article “On the Jewish Intellect” (1902/1903), claiming that Jewish creativity is driven by a radical monistic impulse. He distinguished moderate monism, which recognizes a multiplicity concealing unity, from radical monism, which sees in multiplicity

137 “At the Crossroads,” in The Collected Writings of Achad ha-Am (Tel Aviv: Dvir, 1956), 50 [Heb]. Various scholars have discussed the creative dimension of the national spirit. See, for example, Aryeh Simon and Yosef Heller, Achad ha-Am: His Work and Teachings ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1955), 160–164 [Heb]; Yehiel Alfred Gottschalk, Achad ha-Am and the Jewish National Spirit ( Jerusalem: WZO, 1992) [Heb]. See also Jascha Nemtsov, Der Zionismus in der Musik (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2009), 43–46. 138 See above, 84–86; and below, 223–225.

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only one element common to all the variations. Intuitively, the radical monist immediately grasps his own reflection in other objects. Therefore, Borochov called radical monism “subjective.”139 For him, Jews are endowed with “subjective thought,” meaning intuitive thought, which draws away from the logical formulation of rigorous argumentation. Borochov, therefore, stated that Jews had made significant contributions in the humanities and the social sciences but not in mathematics and the natural sciences. In line with this approach, Borochov claimed that aesthetic Jewish creativity drew away from painting and focused on music: One direct consequence of the subjectivism of Jewish creativity comes forth in the fact that it is almost impossible for it to write epics and drama, in its weakness in painting, the plastic arts, and architecture. In most cases, Jews in letters are lyricists . . . and the music of Jews is always music of the soul, though not necessarily festive and exalting given that, to reach the proper mood for it one must be more objective and feel less involved in what is described in sounds. The most objective of all lyric forms—the ode140—is not successful among Jews. The pathos of the Jewish ode is either too simplistic or entails deception and irony. Due to this subjectivism, Jews have contributed the largest relative number of musicians and composers out of all European nations (Mendelssohn, Meyerbeer, Halevi, Bizet,141 the Rubinsteins,142 Offenbach, and many others) but the smallest number of painters and sculptors (the greatest, and almost the only one, is Antokolsky).143

139 Borochov was probably influenced by Hegel’s notion about the unity of the spirit (Geist), possibly viewing it as the theoretical basis for the idea of cooperative living. 140 A song of praise and exaltation. Lyrical poetry, which entails elements of communion, poetic spirit, and reflections, splits into ode and elegy. 141 Bizet was not Jewish. The mistake may be a result of the fact that his father-in-law was Jack Halevi. 142 The composers Anton and Nikolai Rubinstein. 143 Dov Ber Borochov, Philosophical Writings, ed. Abraham Yas`ur and Daniel Ben-Nahum (Tel Aviv: Sifriat Hapoalim; and Haifa: Haifa University, 1994), 47 [Heb]. Mark Antokolsky (1843–1902) was a painter and sculptor and a lifelong friend of the musicians Wolf Even and Eliakum Zunser. On Borochov’s thought, see, for example, Eliezer Schweid, A History of Jewish Thought in the Twentieth Century (Tel Aviv: Dvir, 1990), index, under “Borochov” [Heb].

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For Borochov, the plastic arts require an “objective” approach that preserves details in their multiplicity and individuality, whereas music relies on a “subjective” approach that, directly and immediately, fuses with the general at the expense of particular and detailed thought and description. To reiterate: “subjective” thinking, in Borochov’s terminology, faces problems with descriptiveness for two reasons: 1) this type of thinking is immediately connected to the inner monistic (“subjective”) dimension whereas descriptiveness presents the full details. 2) this type of thinking has difficulty detaching from the familiar subject, whereas descriptiveness requires a modicum of distance and objectivity. Borochov, therefore, argued that Jews stood out among composers because musical creativity requires the subjective involvement of the creator, contrary to painting (of the realistic school in particular), which requires some distance. In his view, musical creativity is a result of immediate and intuitive perception, suitable for Jews, who, as he claimed, abhor discursive thought and consistent logical development. Borochov’s aesthetic distinctions attest to the intense effort of a Zionist ideologue to determine, at all costs, the national qualities and advantages of the Jewish people, including in the aesthetic realm. The factual basis of his claims, which assumes the Jews’ negligible contribution to science, is rather flimsy. The share of Jewish composers in musical creativity, however, is a fact. According to Borochov, then, the visual inferiority of the Jewish people is compatible with their musical advantage.

National Originality: (2) Modern Orthodoxy R. Yehiel Yaakov Weinberg was already discussed in the previous chapter.144 On the one hand, Weinberg epitomized the orientation of Eastern European Jewry as a classic product of Russian and Lithuanian yeshivot. But in his youth, he absorbed the orientation of German Jewry. After moving to Germany and

144 See above, 49–51.

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becoming the leader of the Rabbinic Seminary, Weinberg adopted several features of modern Jewish identity. Weinberg distinguished between general and Jewish religiosity. In other nations, religiosity comes from outside, fulfilling spiritual and existential needs. According to R. Weinberg, post-pagan religiosity in other nations stems from the human failure to conquer nature. By contrast, for Jews, religiosity comes from inside, from their psychological and personality structure. Jewish religiosity is a kind of unique “sense” and a “visual perspective.”145 Hence, drawing a solid distinction between Judaism and the Jewish people is impossible: Judaism is an attribute of the Jew. On this basis, R. Weinberg differentiates between Judaism and Hellenism.146 Since Hellenism emphasizes aesthetics, he looks for the distinction between Jews and Greeks in aesthetics per se. Weinberg writes: Greek poets sang of the forest. Its blooming trees when standing in their special order awoke their poetic sense, which was revealed in several pictures of the beauty caught by their eyes and absorbed in their souls when they encountered this splendid sight. The eye of the religious poet was also moved by the forest, and his poetic sense also awoke to create pictures, except that the pictures were entirely different: “Then shall all the trees of the wood sing for joy before the Lord, for he comes” (Psalms 96:12)—this is not a poetic metaphor but a sensory view of Jewish religiosity, which sees trees in a whispered prayer.147 Two topics can sum up his distinction between Greek and Jewish aesthetics. 1) Greeks see aesthetics as an independent value. The beauty of the forest, in and by itself, suffices to shape the aesthetic experience. By contrast, the Jew sees aesthetics as a means to a religious end (“religious-moral view”). The beauty of the forest derives from its messianic role: in the future, it will sing and change in the face of redemption. 2) In terms of content, Greeks confine themselves to a description of experience. Their song of nature is descriptive. In contrast, Jews sing about the religious contents of the experience. 145 R. Yehiel Yaakov Weinberg, Li-Frakim ( Jerusalem, 2003), 180 [Heb]. 146 R. Weinberg noted that this distinction had become a trite convention. R. Ze’ev Jawitz had already resorted to it. See Schwartz, Kinor, 255. 147 Weinberg, Li-Frakim, 181.

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R. Weinberg emphasized that “Jewish religiosity is not a reaction to the will to live but is itself a flowing feeling of life. It does not come because of creative crises but as a bursting display of creative profusion.”148 According to R. Weinberg, poetry and song convey a reaction to life and to the aesthetic experience, but this reaction is not reflective. For the Jewish aesthetics, the inner religious drive is an integral part of visual, lyrical, and musical beauty. Such an approach seemingly drives R. Weinberg to rule that holy songs are a deep expression of the religious experience, which is not disrupted by the singing of women.149

National Originality: (3) Religious Zionism Religious Zionism also tried to find a musical advantage in the national renewal and engaged in several profound discussions on this topic.150 To appreciate the style and the discourse in the early years and in the present, I will briefly consider the claims of R. Binyamin (the pseudonym of Joshua Radler-Feldman, 1880–1957), of Meir Ben-Uri (the Hebrew name of Maximilian Wasbutzky, 1908–1983), and of R. Shlomo Aviner. R. Binyamin, a literary critic, was among the founders of Brit Shalom and a member of the Mizrachi. R. Binyamin pointed to the balance between creative genius, founded on individualism, and collective nationalism. National uniqueness emerges through the “adaptation” and “general harmony” of the selected few. It is individualists who shape the national uniqueness, and harmony is thus attained through the dominance of individuals. R. Binyamin explained the musical implications of this approach. “The spirit of song beats in this nation, its mouth often filled with melody and song—hence the psalms, and R. Judah Halevi, and Meyerbeer, and Mendelssohn.”151 From the perspective of national uniqueness, romantic Jewish composers are on a par with the psalmist and with R. Judah Halevi. As an expert in literature in general and polemic literature in particular, R. Binyamin pointed to Meyerbeer and Mendelssohn to highlight the Jewish advantage in music.

148 Ibid. 149 See above, 52. 150 See ch. 6 below. 151 Joshua Radler-Feldman, On the Edge: Notes and Articles (Vienna, 1922), 104 [Heb].

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Meir Ben-Uri studied with the painter Hermann Struck (1876–1944), himself among the prominent activists of the Mizrachi in Germany.152 Ben-Uri also wrote and composed songs, wandering around Israel, and conducting choirs in Bnei Akiva branches.153 His views on the musical uniqueness of the Jewish people do not add new aspects or original content but they reflect a consciousness of the people’s musical preeminence and the type of arguments in use among religious Zionists. Ben-Uri writes: In the process of making a distinction between holy and profane, between Israel and other nations, between the Land of Israel and other lands—song and music, the art of music, play an honorable role. . . . At the center of all distinction and holiness—of people, time, space, and place—at the focus of all art and creativity, of music and agriculture, choice and exaltation—is the Torah scroll.154 Ben-Uri describes three situations in which music is performed and which denote the musical advantage of the Jewish people. They also bring about “the human elevation to the Holy One, blessed be He.” The musical advantage, then, is distinctly religious and spiritual. The first situation represents “the height” of musical quality—it is the musical perfomance of the Levites, which was “a symphony of percussion instruments, wind instruments, string instruments, and so forth.”155 Notably, music here becomes a part of the national context. The second situation is the synagogue, where the performance includes the blowing of the shofar and cantorial music. Here, music exists in a public and communal context. The third situation is the family circle, where musical performance culminates in the Sabbath table and its songs. These three situations are stations on the path of the private individual and the entire nation to divine communion.

152 See Yitzhak Goldshlag, “Meir Ben-Uri,” in Encyclopedia of Religious Zionism, vol. 6: Personalities, ed. Yitzhak Raphael and Geulah Bath Yehuda ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 2000), 156–158 [Heb]. On Struck, see Itzhak Mann, ed., Hermann Struck: The Man and the Artist (Tel Aviv: Dvir, 1954), 13–20 [Heb]. 153 In the 1950s, his song Aromemekha [I will exalt you] was one of the most popular among Bnei Akiva youth and in religious-Zionist communities. For a self-description of one of his works, see Meir Ben-Uri, “A Musical Expression of a Biblical Portion,” Dukhan 3 (1962): 13–20 [Heb]. 154 Meir Ben-Uri, “Foundations of Jewish Art,” in Emunot [Beliefs], ed. Yisrael Hess (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 1979), 256 [Heb]. 155 Ibid.

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A further attempt to grapple with the Jewish people’s lack of musical creativity and with the resulting polemical discourse is evident in the stance of R. Shlomo Aviner, the rabbi of Beth-El and head of the Ateret Cohanim yeshiva, whose views have been extremely influential among young religious Zionists since the late 1970s.156 Many of the issues that concern religious Zionism in the twenty-first century had been discussed years earlier by R. Aviner, including the connection of young religious Zionists to music. R. Aviner unequivocally determined that “against the contemptible singing of idolatry stands the holy singing in the Temple.” And he added: “If music serves impurity, it is defiled and comes close to idolatry, whose spiritual theory was to release the hold on all human inclinations, including the most corrupt, up to capriciousness and exaggeration. . . . We must draw away from Christian melodies because we should not draw enjoyment from idolatry.”157 The longing for the past—“the holy singing in the Temple”—determines the musical advantage of the Jewish people. Religious Zionism wavered between the need for emphasizing national originality and the need to remain on the conservative side of tradition. The Zionist endeavor was perceived simultaneously as a new stage and as part of historical and religious continuity, which triggered a tense dialectical consciousness. Arguments such as those of Meir Ben-Uri and R. Aviner show that religious Zionism oscillated between two poles, both expressed by music. On the one hand, there was an idea of music as redemption and renovation, and on the other, music was understood as reflecting the Jewish people’s historical continuity, from the Levites to the present. In that sense, a messianic restorative interpretation of current events took shape, and the fulfillment of the messianic vision is a return to bygone days: the music of the future is the music of the distant past.

Summary The question of the Jewish people’s musical advantages cuts across historical periods and philosophical styles. This issue evoked special interest in the wake of several events that took place in Europe in the modern period: the

156 See ch. 1 above. 157 Shlomo Aviner, “Music and Judaism,” Iturei Cohanim 171 (1999): 12–19 [Heb], http://www.herzog.ac.il/vtc/0055385.html. R. Aviner rejected what Nietzschean terminology refers to as Dionysian music and feared its influence.

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Emancipation, which encouraged Jews to acquire musical education and engage in composition; the awakening of nationalism, which drove the search for ethnic uniqueness in the musical realm among others; and finally, the new antisemitism, which extended to this area as well. The explanation about the musical inferiority of the Jewish people in the present led to longings for a distant past and to an attempt to describe its advantages. This chapter has traced the development of an apologetic Jewish consciousness regarding music as part of the general polemical attitude. An attempt to trace the views of Jewish thinkers on national uniqueness reveals several apologetic courses, which grant a musical advantage to the Jewish people: 1)  preparation: since the Jewish version of prophecy is perceived as authentic, then the way of attaining it (“preparation”), which includes music, is also purportedly the most efficient; 2)  utilitarianism: according to the above argument, the utilitarian advantages of music, such as reliance on magic and theurgic approaches, will prove extremely fruitful; 3)  revelation: the source for the texts of ancient Judaism is revelation and, therefore, the musical tradition of reading these texts (for instance, biblical cantillations) is also the greatest; 4)  the theft of the sciences: the myth that the sciences were stolen from Jews as they went into exile reflects their advantage; 5)  the song of the Levites: singing and music playing in the Temple are the most efficient and original ritual. The Levites’ task was foremost among these advantages, while the messianic expectation included the future restoration of the chosen people’s musical superiority. The singing in the Temple and the song of the Levites were the most significant defense. As noted, this argument was irrefutable since it relied on the distant past and on sacred texts. The biblical tradition that institutionalized the Levites’ role was indeed a solid foundation of Western religions and, consequently, an effective polemical argument. When the consciousness of a national musical advantage emerged, it served as a kind of compensation for the Jewish people’s distance from musical creativity during exile. In truth, however, the Jews’ connection to musical composition and performance was not significant except for two periods: the Renaissance in Italy and the modern period (beginning in the nineteenth century). For centuries, Jews were outside the circles of musical creativity, and the

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musical dimension of the synagogue—cantorial music and piyyutim—was not sufficient to fill their musical consciousness. Isaiah Berlin set the foundation for the split between the wise type—whose ideal is to acquire knowledge and reach perfection (personal or public if this person is an example to others) or expertise in specific areas—and the creative type, who struggles for an ideal at all costs. Similarly, Romanticism sanctified he creator-warrior type, who could be a coarse ignoramus but struggles for truth and for the inner light. Berlin presented Beethoven as a paradigm of the latter type.158 He went on to claim that Beethoven was also a paradigm of a revolutionary, contrary to Bach, who was “a consolidator—a conservative, a creator of order, a source of strength to the tradition.”159 The traditional Jewish world sanctified mostly the intellectual. Trends that, at least at their outset, had been perceived as subversive (such as some of the sects whose writings were found in Qumran or the new Hasidism founded by the Ba`al Shem Tov) strongly supported the ideal represented by the second type. The Jewish world did not lack revolutionaries. The scholar, however, was and still is the central conservative Jewish ideal. Intellectual knowledge belongs to everyone, and new Torah insights usually expose concealed treasures of knowledge. In this world, the original individual creator is usually absent. Moreover, revolutions in the Jewish world almost invariably wear a conservative guise. The implication for music was clear: Jewish tradition was indifferent to composition and musical performance. European Jewish composers, such as Mahler and Schoenberg, tried to integrate into German culture, naively believing that through religious conversion or adoption of different values they would acquire a German identity.160 It was only in the context of Jewish tradition’s alienation from music as an aesthetic and a culture that this belief could develop. Jewish thought actively struggled against this bleak reality. It found Judaism’s detachment from the foci of musical creativity extremely disturbing and, therefore, sought at all costs to establish Jewish preeminence in this domain. Clinging to the past—prophecy, wisdom, the Temple service—provided the grounds for this struggle.

158 See Isaiah Berlin, The Crooked Timber of Humanity: Chapters in the History of Ideas, ed. Henry Hardy (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2013), 199–201. 159 Isaiah Berlin, The Sense of Reality: Studies in Ideas and Their History, ed. Henry Hardy (New York: Farrar, Strauss and Giroux, 1999), 70. 160 See also, for example, Frederic V. Grunfeld, Prophets without Honour: A Background to Freud, Kafka, Einstein and Their World (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1979).

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Music as a Tool My discussion has so far focused on the value and standing of music in religion, and in Jewish religion in particular. I now move on to consider the complex relationship between music and religion. Due to its influence, music became an important tool within religious life. The instrumental, functional perception of music in a religious context is age-old and, in this chapter, I will detail several aspects of it. The question intimated between the lines is whether music is autonomous in Jewish thought and, if so, to what extent. In other words: does the all-encompassing divine revelation relegate music to the sidelines and harness it to its needs or does music somehow come forth on its own? Scripture and rabbinic sources unquestionably view music as a means for attaining religious aims. Other approaches have emerged, however, which view music as an expression and a reflection of cosmic orders and values. This chapter will focus on perceptions of music mainly as a means to religious ends. In the next chapter, I consider approaches setting the ground for a view of music as an end in itself. I begin with a terminological and methodological clarification.

Methodological Introduction I will be using a series of terms (instrumentality, symbolization and symbolism, substantive value, art music), which denote various perceptions of music. After using some of them randomly in previous chapters, I will now refine their conceptual use and then proceed to clarify the scope of the discussion about the instrumental perception of music.

Terms I begin with some clarification of the terminology and with the contrast between music’s instrumental vs. independent (and largely substantive) value.

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Instrumental value focuses on the perception of music as a ritual, communicative, or psychological service, which is provided in order to fulfill needs in other realms. In Jewish thought, the discussion centers mainly on the religious need: music is perceived as a means and a tool for the realization of religious ideals. By contrast, ascribing independent value to music follows directly from its perception as autonomous. Generally, however, autonomy does not mean pure independence, and the term independent value regarding music may suggest two denotations: 1) music as the independent source of an aesthetic experience (a “strong” sense of independence); 2) music as an area that represents divine, cosmic, social, dialogical, and existentialist values and orders (a “weak” sense of independence).1 My definitions differ slightly from those of musicologists so as to adapt them to the study of Jewish thought. Let us consider first how musicologists define the conceptual move considered in this chapter. Dalia Cohen wrote on the first denotation: Music that does not serve as a function of something else but solely as the object of a musical experience is, as we know, a Western phenomenon. It developed gradually and comes to the fore most prominently in concert halls. The complementary opposite of functional music, then, is concert music given that, in a way, concert music can be seen as serving the need for a musical experience.2 The source of the second denotation is in Neopythagorean approaches that later assumed various forms in the Muslim world and were formulated in the epistle by a group of thinkers active in the tenth century.3 On this denotation, Amnon Shiloah writes:

1 2 3

In this denotation, music is not really a tool but a symbol and a metaphor. To some extent, symbolization attests to music’s autonomous status as a symbolic language. On the other hand, symbolization itself serves other realms, cosmic and metaphysical. Dalia Cohen, Contemplation and Experience in Music Education ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1991), 41 [Heb]. See Amnon Shiloah, The Epistle on Music of the Ikhwan al-Safa: Bagdad, 10th Century (Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University Press, 1978).

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music reflects the harmonious beauty of the universe. . . . One who understands the basic laws of musical harmony understands all the secrets of Creation. Musical harmony conceived according to the laws of the well-ordered universe helps man in his attempt to achieve spiritual and philosophical equilibrium. . . . In short, it acts to create inner harmony among the contradictory forces of man’s soul.4 Cohen’s terminology distinguishes functional and art music. The terminology I have chosen, which differs in some ways from Cohen’s, fits the development of Jewish thought over time. 1)  Instrumental approach vs. representational approach. Instead of the contrast between “functional” and “concert” music, I have chosen these terms and distinguish between them as follows: a) an “instrumental approach” reflects a perception of music as a tool for realizing goals (mainly religious ones), which I discuss in this chapter; b) a “representational approach” reflects a perception of music as a metaphor or a symbol for sublime cosmic values and orders, and I discuss it in the next chapter. 2)  Independent approach. Instead of “concert music,” I have adopted the criterion of independent or substantive importance. 3)  Concert music. This term denotes art music as opposed to folk songs and similar categories. The terms I have chosen, as noted, appear to convey more successfully the dynamics of thought, and especially of Jewish thought.

The Instrumental Approach Until the Romantic period, music had not been perceived as a separate aesthetic realm. Music had functioned at various times as a source of pleasure and enjoyment. Aristocratic circles in Muslim Spain regularly arranged balls. Courtiers in

4

Amnon Shiloah, Music in the World of Islam: A Socio-Cultural Study (Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press, 1995), 50.

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Christian Spain in late medieval times listened to music and even routinely supported poets and musical performers. Music also played an important role in the cultural lives of affluent Jews.5 Secular works, such as madrigals written during the Renaissance for secular texts, attest to the institutionalization of a musical leisure culture.6 At the same time, canonic sources presented music as leading to joy and concentration. Both the leisure culture and the canonic sources shaped a perception of music as a psychological tool endowed with therapeutic and moral qualities. The discussion in these chapters revolves around music’s integration into distinct religious and conceptual contexts. In the Middle Ages and in the Renaissance, music served mainly as a tool for sciences and for religion and, at times, was also perceived as a specific representation of the universe and of sublime religious values. Up to the Romantic period, however, it was hardly ever viewed on its own. Until then, perceptions of music fluctuated between a view of it as solely a tool and a useful means, on the one hand, and a metaphor for the cosmic order and the pneumatic processes of existence, on the other. The important instrumental and functional standing of music in Jewish sources, as noted, had never been questioned. Music was an important tool handled by religion, whose psychological advantages (for soothing, for removing “evil spirits,” and as a source of joy),7 ritual uses (the songs of the Levites at the Temple, dancing before God, training the “sons of the prophets,” and so forth), and mystical ceremonies (preparation for receiving hidden knowledge and for the mystical experience)8 are extensively discussed in the Scriptures and in the rabbinic and philosophical exegetic literature.9 Music was certainly

5

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9

Yitzhak Baer, A History of the Jews in Christian Spain, vol. 1, trans. Louis Schoffman (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1966), 325–326. Shlomo ibn Verga, who was active in Spain at the time of the expulsion, depicts royal courts as exploiting music for wicked purposes. To Don Enrique Mendoza, who criticized life in the court, ibn Verga ascribes the statement, “where the players do not sing of God’s glory but sing praises to a woman’s breasts to awaken love.” Shlomo ibn Virga, Sefer Shevet Yehuda, ed. Azriel Shochat and Yitzhak Baer ( Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1947), 160 [Heb]. These perceptions were generally negative. See above, 34–35. See, for example, I Samuel 16:16–18 and 23, 18:10, 19:9. See, for example, Evelyn Underhill, Mysticism: A Study in the Nature and Development of Man’s Spiritual Consciousness (New York: Meridian Books, 1955), 76–79; Moshe Idel, The Mystical Experience in Abraham Abulafia, trans. Jonathan Chipman (Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1988), 55–71; Moshe Hallamish, An Introduction to the Kabbalah, trans. Ruth BarIlan and Ora Wiskind-Elper (Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1999), 78–79. But without developing a systematic method of musical education, contrary to Greek culture. See, for example, Werner Jaeger, Paideia: The Ideals of Greek Culture, vol. 2, trans. Gilbert Highet (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1944), 227. The foundations of such a method were laid mainly in the Middle Ages, when the convention of placing music in the order of the sciences entered Jewish thought. See ch. 2 above.

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perceived as a source of joy and pleasure,10 which had always been viewed as positive values insofar as they served as tools for the soul’s conjunction with God and helped it reach the supernal worlds. Joy and pleasure, then, were merely tools as well. Two questions are discussed in this chapter: 1) how, and in what ways, did Jewish thought throughout its history adopt the utilitarian instrumental view of music; 2) did the instrumental perception of music lead to its evaluation as solely a technique or did it set the ground for its essential and intrinsic appreciation? I will consider several views of music in Jewish thought as a tool and as a psychological and magical technique used for religious purposes or for attaining goals related to religious perfection. In my analysis, I will focus on the following topics: 1) The perception of music as preparation for prophecy. This perception itself relies on the following ones. 2) The perception of music as endowed with psychological advantages, as follows: a)  music is important for the perfection of the soul; b)  music fulfills a spiritual need for refinement; c)  music leads to a state of joy; d)  music balances body and soul. 3) The perception of music as endowed with magical advantages, as follows: a)  music creates conditions for witchcraft (psychological concentration); b)  music helps to bring down the divine emanation; c) music fulfills an important role in the kabbalistic technique of tseruf. A discussion of the instrumental and functional aspects of music indirectly addresses the extent to which these aspects lead to its representational and

10 This is the approach formulated in popular Muslim philosophical literature (for example, the sayings of Hunayn ibn Ishaq). See Dan Pagis, Secular Poetry and Poetic Theory: Moses ibn Ezra and His Contemporaries ( Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1970), 263–264 [Heb].

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metaphorical perception. The next chapter will explicitly consider views of music as possessing relatively independent value, that is, as a representation and a metaphor of the world’s harmony and of other conceptual and ethical aspects. I begin, then, with music as a preparation for prophecy. Since prophecy was perceived as the highest rank of religious perfection, preparing for it was also considered important. Preparation for prophecy, therefore, is also a key to other instrumental aspects of music.

Music as Preparation for Prophecy The connection between music and prophecy is longstanding. Jewish thought viewed prophecy as a mission as well as a social and altruistic goal, and, at the same time, as a distinct kind of personal and religious perfection. The conditions and preparations for attaining prophecy occupied almost every thinker who addressed the issue both in medieval and in modern times. Musical performance played a significant role in this context, and I consider its role in what follows. I will deal first with the theoretical aspect of this issue and then with the implementation of the musical element as a preparation for prophecy in the modern world.

Ordinary Prophecy and Mosaic Prophecy Prophecy has always been tied to an ecstatic state, meaning that of the soul detaching from the senses or focusing on one at the expense of the others (imagination). Prophets needed concentration, peace of mind, joy, and exaltation, and musical sounds provided the mental platform for it. Many mentions of the connection between music and prophecy appear in the Scriptures and in rabbinic literature, from which they also found their way to the legal literature. Maimonides framed this connection in distinctly halakhic terms when he tied prophecy to the prophet’s state of mind and claimed that balancing feelings is one of the conditions of prophecy: The prophets did not prophesy whenever they pleased, but had to concentrate their minds, resting, joyous and cheerful, and in solitude. For the spirit of prophecy does not descend upon one who is melancholy or indolent, but comes as a result of

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joyousness. 11 And therefore, the Sons of the Prophets had before them psaltery, tabret, pipe and harp12 (I Samuel 10:5) and thus sought a manifestation of the prophetic gift. This is expressed in the phrase, “And they were ‫( מתנבאים‬I Samuel 10:5), which means, that they were on the way to prophesy, before they actually did so, as one might say, “That person is becoming great.”13 Maimonides contrasted the prophecy of the ordinary prophet with that of Moses. An ordinary prophet does not prophesy at will; he depends on God’s will and inspiration and must engage in a series of actions that help him to absorb the prophetic emanation. Furthermore, for an ordinary prophet, prophecy depends on emotions—if agitated, angry, or depressed, the prophet will be unable to prophesy. By contrast, Moses prophesied whenever he wished. Since the prophecy of an ordinary prophet depends on the conditions of the surroundings and, in particular, on the prophet’s state of mind, the ordinary prophet needs music to prepare for prophecy. The distinction between Moses and the rest of the prophets was accepted mainly by medieval rationalists and endorsed in the Zohar literature as well. The author of the Zohar unequivocally stated that all prophets require a minstrel, a tambourine, and a flute, “except for Moses who transcended all other prophets of the world.”14 He did not need music to prophesy. This split between Mosaic and ordinary prophecy is particularly widespread in post-Maimonidean rationalist literature. This elitist group interpreted prophecy as an intellectual event, where the prophet relies on both theoretical and practical knowledge. In his biblical commentary, Gersonides writes on the words of the prophet Elisha, “But now bring me a minstrel” (II Kings 3:15):

11 BT Shabbat 30b; BT Pesachim 66b. See Yaakov Blidstein, “Joy in Maimonides’ Ethics,” Eshel Beer-Sheva 2 (1980): 145–163 [Heb]. 12 According to I Samuel 10:5, and as hinted in the writing below. 13 Maimonides, Code, Laws of the Foundations of the Torah 7:4 (see The Book of Knowledge, trans. Moshe Hymanson, in The Code of Maimonides [ Jerusalem and New York: Boys Town, 1974], 42b); Howard Kreisel, Prophecy: The History of an Idea in Medieval Jewish Philosophy (Dordrecht: Kluwer, 2001), 179; Moshe Idel, “Hitbodedut as Concentration in Jewish Philosophy,” in Shlomo Pines Jubilee Volume on the Occasion of his Eightieth Birthday, ed. Moshe Idel, Warren Zev Harvey, and Eliezer Schweid, part 1, Jerusalem Studies in Jewish Thought 8 (1988): 45 [Heb]. See also Samuel Rosenblatt, ed. Sefer ha-Maspik le-Ovdei ha-Shem: The High Ways to Perfection of Abraham Maimonides, vol. 2 (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1938), 284, lns. 2–5. 14 The Zohar, Pritzker ed., vol. 4, trans. Daniel C. Matt (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2007), Be-Shallah, 2, 45a, 208.

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It is known that, when prophecy comes, anger prevents the hitbodedut of the intellect15 due to troubled thoughts involving anger, and since Elisha was very angry . . . he needed something to remove his anger and expand his heart. The Holy Spirit then descended upon him. In line with the rationalist model, Gersonides too pins prophecy on intellectual perfection, which demands total psychological concentration. Anger and moral flaws both preclude absolute devotion to knowledge. Psychological concentration and joy are attained through music. Music, then, is a technique (“something”) that removes anger and enables prophecy.16 And already Abraham Abulafia, the thirteenth-century ecstatic kabbalist, wrote: “Evidence that song attests to the rank of prophecy is that the song’s way is to make the heart joyful through melodies . . . because prophecy only dwells through joy.”17 These statements apply to both male and female prophets. R. Mordechai Komtiyano wrote about Miriam that “she may have had a tambourine when she wanted to prophesy, as in ‘bring me a minstrel’ (II Kings 3:15), and that is a musical instrument.”18 Rationalists viewed music as a psychological tool that enables prophecy. Some kabbalists, such as Isaac Luria’s foremost disciple Chaim Vital (1543–1620), linked music to contemplation, which leads to prophecy.19 The psychological concentration attained through music served both rationalism and contemplative activity.

Prophecy and Emanation Kabbalists tied the idea of music as preparation for prophecy to the emanation of the sefirot. In their view, prophecy proceeds adequately when the divine emanation flows through the various sefirot in a correct manner. Many kabbalists resorted to various symbolic ways to describe the flow of the emanation, claiming that merely describing the theurgic principle of drawing down emanation

15 Idel, “Hitbodedut as Concentration”; Dov Schwartz, Contradiction and Concealment in Medieval Jewish Thought (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2002), 108–109 [Heb]. 16 I examine below the psychological and psychosomatic advantages of music. 17 Abraham Abulafia, Otsar Eden Ganuz ( Jerusalem: n.p., 2000), 122 [Heb]. 18 R. Mordechai Komtiyano, Commentary on the Torah, Paris Ms. 265, 70a. 19 See Moshe Idel, Kabbalah: New Perspectives (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1988), 50–51.

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from one sefirah to another (the tree of life) is intrinsically valuable. One symbolic way of this type is to describe emanation through sounds and melodies. Music brings joy, and joy symbolizes the divine emanation, a kind of divine outpouring that enriches its surroundings. Similarly, prophecy is explained in light of the flow of divine emanation, which is also explained as the flow of music. Music regulates the transmission of emanation for two reasons: 1) at the symbolic level, the flow of sounds reflects the paths of the emanation while melody regulates emanation at the level of action; 2) the emanation of the letters of the Torah, reflects the emanation of beings, which is regulated by the cantillations and the singing of the letters and the words. Following are some examples of the perception of music in Kabbalah as the regulation of emanation and as ancillary to prophecy. Yosef b. Shalom Ashkenazi, a fourteenth-century Spanish kabbalist originally from Ashkenaz, described the musical dimensions of emanation from the sefirot as follows: The letters, then, emanate in their paths through the ways of the nigun, and that is the mystery of the cantillations of the Torah, which come in and go out with the sound of song. The mystery is in the golden bell and the pomegranate (Exodus 28:34) that, whose sound would be heard when the High Priest entered the Holy of Holies.20 And you will understand from this the mystery of the holy spirit that dwells in the prophets as music so as to bring them joy, as it is written “but now bring me a minstrel” (II Kings 3:15), because this spirit emanates from the supreme crown [keter elyon] traversing through the long path until it reaches tif’eret, which is called “spirit.”21 This is the mystery of

20 On the Day of Atonement, the High Priest wore four white garments, including a coat on whose edges hung bells and pomegranates (commentators differ on whether the bell was beside or inside the pomegranate). Yosef b. Shalom Ashkenazi explains that the High Priest wore the coat so as to make sounds while walking. 21 In early Kabbalah and in Zohar literature, spirit reflects the sefirah of tif’eret. See Moshe Hallamish, Kabbalistic Commentary of Rabbi Yosef ben Shalom Ashkenazi of Genesis Rabba ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1984), 139, ln. 3 [Heb].

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prophecy, which emanates from tif’eret to the crown [atarah] and this is the mystery of “mouth to mouth” (Numbers 12:8).22 Many kabbalists described prophecy as an activity of the lower sefirot (chesed, din, tif’eret, netsach, hod, yesod, and malkhut). Yosef Ashkenazi described prophecy as emanation descending indirectly (from keter to tif’eret) and directly (from tif’eret to malkhut). The essence of prophecy is in the emanation descending from the sefirah of tif’eret, which is characterized by music—since prophecy occurs through the integration of divine and human speech (“mouth to mouth,” meaning in clearly acoustic fashion), sounds typify the descent of prophetic emanation. Moshe Cordovero (1522–1570) presented the process described by Ashkenazi in greater detail, commenting on the Zohar statement that founded prophecy on joy. The Zohar pointed to the triple appearance of the root n-g-n (play)23 in the verse in II Kings 3:15: “But now bring me a minstrel. And when the minstrel played” (menagen—ka-nagan—ha-menagen). Cordovero interpreted these three appearances as follows: He [Elisha] had to awaken [the spirit of prophecy] called ruach24 in tif’eret that, after reaching completion together with gedulah and gevurah, makes the perfect spirit containing all the aspects—chesed, din, and rachamim. Elisha thus received the spirit of prophecy from right, left, and center through the mystery of drawing the emanation toward netsach and hod, which are the locus of prophecy,25 and yesod, which unites them. This is the mystery of the three nigunim that match the three patriarchs included in tif’eret, which is called ruach,26 and emanates

22 Commentary ascribed to Abraham b. David (Rabad) 1:10, in Sefer Yetsirah with Commentaries ( Jerusalem: M. Atiya, 1962), 31b [Heb]. See Idel, The Mystical Experience, 64. 23 Zohar, Va-Yehi, 1, 216b. See also Kühn, Music in Scripture, Talmud, and Kabbalah (Vienna: Menorah, 1929), 21–22 [Heb]. 24 According to Cordovero, Elisha lacked “a spirit of prophecy.” See, for example, II Kings 2:15. 25 Right, left, and center symbolize, respectively, the sefirot of chesed, din, and tif’eret. On netsach as a place of prophecy, see Pardes Rimonim: Orchard of Pomegranates, trans. Elyakim Getz (Monfalcone: Providence University Press, 2007–2010), 17b. See also Bracha Zak, The Kabbalah of Rabbi Moshe Cordovero (Beer Sheva: Ben-Gurion University of the Negev Press, 1995), 364 [Heb]. 26 That is, the three qualities or sefirot that characterize the patriarchs (chesed—Abraham, din—Isaac, tif’eret—Jacob) are included in tif’eret because it is a combination of chesed and din.

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to malkhut, which is called “prophecy.” And this is the mystery of the spirit of prophecy: tif’eret and malkhut are united through netsach and hod, tif’eret to the right and malkhut to the left,27 both united through yesod in the mystery of [the divine name] yod-aleph-he-daleth-waw-nun-he-yod.28 Music leads to prophecy while the emanation from the sefirot concentrates on malkhut. The three nigunim reflect chesed, din, and tif’eret. Cordovero’s text represents an approach widespread in kabbalistic literature, whereby music serves both to assist in the regulation of the descending emanation (“awakening”) and as a symbol of it. The emanation of the sefirot is also the prophetic emanation. The issue of music as representation and as metaphor is discussed in the next chapter. Sha`ar Ruach ha-Kodesh by Isaac Luria (1534–1572), representing the quest for a mystical and prophetic experience, is one of the crucial texts aiming to lead individuals in this direction. It explicitly states that music prevents the sadness that obstructs attainment of the holy spirit: The quality of sadness is itself extremely deplorable, especially in one seeking to apprehend chokhmah and the holy spirit. There is no greater obstacle to apprehension, even for a person worthy of it, than the quality of sadness, as attested by the verse “And now bring a minstrel, and when the minstrel played, the hand of God came upon him” (II Kings 3:15) and elsewhere.29 Music is a tool for dispelling sadness. The perception of music as a preparation for the holy spirit became an inseparable part of discussions of prophecy. Far

27 The paths of emanation originating in chesed (right) and in din (left) continue to the right (tif’eret and netsach) and to the left (hod and malkhut). The union of netsach and hod through yesod reflects also the union of tif’eret and malkhut. Incidentally, the union of hod and malkhut is also related to King David’s lyre: “The lyre that David would play, which would play by itself, was in the northerly wind, found in hod” (Cordovero, Pardes Rimonim, Part 17, ch. 4, 83b). The northerly wind symbolizes din or the left, and the playing of the lyre mitigated this emanation. 28 Ibid., Part 8, ch. 25, 55a. And in Part 22 (“The Names”), Cordovero ascribed chokhmah, binah, and malkhut to music. On the comparison between music and malkhut in Song of Songs, he writes: “And particularly in Song of Songs, there is no doubt” (ibid., Part 23, ch. 21, 41d). 29 R. Isaac Luria, Sha`ar Ruach ha-Kodesh ( Jerusalem: 1874), 9a [Heb]. For the Zohar and Cordovero on this text, see above.

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rarer are references to music as resulting from the holy spirit and claiming that humans compose music following divine inspiration. Eliezer of Worms, among the more prominent Ashkenaz pietists, wrote in Chokhmat ha-Nefesh about one who experiences a vision, “the holy spirit may at times move him and rejoice him and out of his joy he sings.”30 Most plausibly, the reference here is to automatic creativity, relying on the perception of the artist as a tool of divine inspiration. In any event, the result of this inspiration is music. In sum: most discussions about music as a preparation for prophecy in the Middle Ages and in the early modern period are theoretical and hermeneutical. What has reached us is a long series of texts, with little evidence of the author’s internal turmoil and personal quest for prophecy, if it was at all possible. The texts, however, do expose intellectual curiosity. Many thinkers were interested in the question of prophets and prophecy and tried to trace its contours. Most of them drew a clear distinction between the ordinary prophet, who needed music to prophesy, and Moses, who did not need it or any other preparations.31 At times, however, the discussions involved contemporary dimensions. Scholars began to trace the prophetic consciousness of rationalists and mystics.32 Thinkers and mystics at times went beyond abstract considerations and themselves tried music as a technique for prophecy. I discuss this issue briefly below.

Practice The discussion and the use of music as a preparation for prophecy and as a prophetic technique appeared in writings of prophetic and ecstatic Kabbalah. Moshe Idel has already addressed this issue at length,33 and I too will briefly

30 Eliezer of Worms, Chokhmat ha-Nefesh (Bnei Brak, 1987), 21 [Heb]. On this work, see Yosef Dan, Mysticism in Ashkenaz Pietism ( Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1968), 63 [Heb]. 31 See, for example, the comments of Immanuel Aboab (1555–1628) in The Struggle for Torah: The Nomologia, trans. Moises Levi Orfali (Jerusalem: Yad Yizhak Ben-Zvi, 1997), 177 [Heb]. 32 These discussions started especially in the context of Maimonides. See, for example, Abraham Joshua Heschel, “Did Maimonides Believe That He Had Attained the Rank of Prophet?” in Louis Ginzberg Jubilee Volume on the Occasion of His Seventieth Birthday (New York: American Academy for Jewish Research, 1946), 159–188 [Heb]. 33 On the perception of the melody as a preparation for prophecy according to Abulafia and on its influences, see Idel, The Mystical Experience, 55–71; idem, “Music and Prophetic Kabbalah,” Yuval 4 (1982): 150–169; idem, “Kabbalah and Music,” in Art and Judaism, ed. David Cassuto (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 1989), 275–289 [Heb]. On singing as preparation for a mystical experience, see, for example, Hallamish, An Introduction to the Kabbalah, 78–79.

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discuss it below. One impressive expression of this use of music in twentiethcentury thought is the work of David Cohen, known as the Nazir (1887–1972), the loyal disciple of Rav Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook. The Nazir emphasized the role of the voice and of melody in his own life and thought and insisted on the importance of musical education, sending his children to violin lessons. Several facts in the Nazir’s spiritual biography tie his development to the musical aspect: 1) the Nazir described the “metamorphosis” he underwent in his encounter with Rav Kook as derived from his listening to music;34 2) the commentary of the Nazir on Tikkunei Zohar is called Manginot haTikkunim [The melodies of the tikkunim];35 3) the Nazir grounded his philosophical and mystical approach on hearing and sound;36 4) throughout his life, the Nazir engaged in a quest for prophecy, tying its attainment to the hearing of voices and sounds. Song and melody are part of an important technique for attaining prophecy, which appears frequently in the Nazir’s writings. Mystical journals tend to include allusions to soul-shaping musical experiences.37 In the Nazir’s mystical journal, of which only a few fragments have been published, the melody is presented as a significant stage in the attainment of revelation and of the supreme vision. His writing is permeated by an unequivocally mystical atmosphere. No wonder, then, that the supreme revelation leads to the understanding of the worlds in the kabbalistic version (beria’h—creative, yetsirah—formative, and assiyah—material) and to references to them in the context of the tikkun process. Following is the formulation in his journal:

34 For a description of this event, which dates to the end of 1915, see David Cohen, introduction to Orot ha-Kodesh, vol. 1, by Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1963), 18 [Heb]. 35 Sections of this work appeared in Dov Schwartz, “From Manginot ha-Tikkunim by ha-Rav ha-Nazir,” in Be-Shemen Ra`anan: Memorial Volume for R. Shalom Nathan Ra`anan Kook, ed. Ben-Zion Shapira, vol. 1 ( Jerusalem: R. Zvi Yehuda Institute, 1990), 353–376 [Heb]. On the epistemological aspect of music, see below, 249–283. 36 See Dov Schwartz, Religious Zionism between Logic and Messianism (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 1999), 241–250 [Heb]. For further discussion of his theoretical position, see below, 249–270. 37 On the journal of R. Elazar Azkari, see Mordechai Pachter, From Safed’s Hidden Treasures: Studies and Texts concerning the History of Safed and Its Sages in the Sixteenth Century ( Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center for Jewish History, 1994), 145–146 [Heb]. On the journal of R. Yitzhak Aizik from Komarna, see below, note 97.

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Revelation, a divine gleaming in the heart and especially in the brain, in prayer, during prayer, in tunes and songs of the melody— my soul rises and new supernal worlds emerge before it.38 This nether world then rises in a new light, in the light of God’s face,39 assiyah, yetsirah, beri’ah. But this is not frequent.40 At the end of 1923, the Nazir noted in his journal a series of sedarim, habits of piety and asceticism. One of them is “to preserve the singing with me at night in a nigun.” In this source, singing and the nigun function on their own, as a regular habit. On the Ten Days of Awe of September 1924, he described the nigun technique as follows: The heart aches, truly aches, as from sword thrusts.41 It is hard to breathe, as the soul is consumed for communion with God. I go out of myself [lit. of a vessel, that is, the body], dismiss all shame and politeness to bother those at the house of study, and begin to play a nigun full of sadness, and sorrow, and supreme pleasure. And in the nigun, I hear a voice: “It will still be yours, it will still be yours, be strong and courageous!” The hope of being granted prophecy, then, is anchored in the musical motif. The words of the Nazir reflect the influence of music on human mind and emotions. He describes a state of tension and suffering, which is transformed by music into serenity and pleasure. These are the conditions for attaining prophecy. Furthermore, in the classic mystical sources, the nigun is usually

38 On music as a key to the revelation of secrets and mysteries, the Nazir wrote: “The pure melody, in its subtle voice, reveals the hidden and the concealed, which is unseen, and all is illuminated in a new light, A new world, in a new spirit, is revealed before me at the awakening of dawn” (Shai Cohen et. al., eds., Nezir Ahiv: Memorial Volume to R. David Cohen [ Jerusalem, 1978], 262 [Heb]). 39 See Proverbs 16:15. 40 The journal is in the Nazir’s archive, which is held by his family. Passages from it have been published in Nezir Ahiv, vol. 1, 237–307; Dov Schwartz, “Conceptual Innovations in Zikhronot ha-Rav ha-Nazir,” in Memorial Volume for Sarah Cohen ( Jerusalem, 1987), 209–222; idem, Religious Zionism between Logic and Messianism, 149–197 [Heb]; Shai Cohen et al., Mishnat ha-Nazir ( Jerusalem, 2005) [Heb]. A collection of sources appears in Zvi Halperin, “‘The Nigun Is My Life and My Breath’: The Nigun in the Teachings of ha-Rav ha-Nazir,” Tsohar 30 (2007): 99–114 [Heb]. See also Semadar Cherlow, “‘The Sublime Seeks Expression’: Personal Diaries of Twentieth-Century Jewish Mystics,” Da`at 63 (2008): 103–130 [Heb]. 41 According to Proverbs 12:18.

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presented as stirring and pleasurable.42 The Nazir describes it as a music of “sadness, and sorrow, and supreme pleasure,” a description contrasting with its perception as a source of joy.43 The Nazir often describes ups and downs in his journal, with music recording extreme mood changes—sadness and pleasure, sorrow and delight. He ties prophecy to song and melody. Thus, the return of prophecy ideal includes the replacement of logical and discursive thought with music, which represents intuition and dialogue with God. Music is thus a technique for bringing back prophecy in an era of redemption. It serves not only as a tool for mental concentration but as an essential component of prophesy itself. Thought, practice, and current affairs coalesced in the figure of the Nazir, for whom music was a component of both his personal and his philosophical life.

Creativity and Prophecy Music fulfilled a key role in the preparation for prophecy, and its vast significance within Jewish thought derives from its role in this preparation. Since prophecy is perceived as the highest rank of religious perfection, the preparation for it is also considered important. In his phenomenological analysis of prophecy, Abraham Joshua Heschel pointed to poetic creativity as one of the most important elements of the prophets’ consciousness. Inspiration too, in his view, comes from the prophet’s hidden spiritual depths. As evidence, Heschel cites Mozart’s attesting to his creativity as uncontrollable and unbound by any regularity.44 Music, then, is not only a preparation but also a feature of the prophet’s creativity. The perception of music as a preparation for prophecy relies on its many psychological advantages, the central one being its influence on moods, and particularly its ability to bring joy. It does have other advantages as well, as discussed below.

Music and Psychology Music’s influence on moods was already acknowledged in the ancient world and some hold that songs, melodies, and dance had even then served to ease

42 See Idel, The Mystical Experience, 53–55, 58, 61–62, 63–64. 43 See below, 152–154. 44 Abraham Joshua Heschel, The Prophets, vol. 2 (New York: Harper and Row, 1975), 163.

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the toil for citizens and slaves in Egypt and Babylonia.45 Plato viewed music as important in the training of the state’s guardians.46 Aristotle noted the decisive influence of music on feelings, and thus also on the moral dimension of human life.47 Nicholas Oresme, a fourteenth-century Christian scholastic, quoted at length the view of the Neoplatonic philosopher Macrobius claiming that the soul had heard the music of the spheres before entering the body and had borne the memory of that music after entering it.48 The Platonic theory of remembrance (anamnesis) holds that the soul had acquired knowledge before its existence in the body so that learning is in fact remembrance. According to Oresme, Macrobius applied this theory to music as well. Moreover, Oresme notes that, according to Boetius, “World-Soul,” a Platonic term that conveys the source of the souls in the material world, “is united in harmony with music.”49 Almost every discussion of music’s advantages notes its influence on the soul. Many discussions in Jewish thought viewed this influence as the central and perhaps even the sole advantage of sounds. The medical physiological influence of music is also derived from its mental influence, as shown below. The psychological advantages assumed different forms in different philosophical eras but they were always a key element in the assessment and standing of music. In the discussion that follows, I refer to various perceptions of music’s psychological effects.

The Perfection of the Soul The view of music as a preparation for prophecy was founded on music’s influence on the soul and on the spiritualization of religious life. Relying on such an approach, Gersonides determined that King Solomon’s songs “all of them guided one toward the perfection intended for man,” while at the same time criticizing them as “poems of vanity and falsehood which do not attract one to the things which ought to be loved or the rejection of things that ought to

45 See, for example, Henry E. Sigerist, A History of Medicine, vol. 1 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1951), 406. 46 A. E. Taylor, Plato: The Man and His Work (New York: Meridian, 1963), 279–280. 47 S. H. Butcher, Aristotle’s Theory of Poetry and Fine Arts (New York: Dover, 1951), 128–132. 48 Nicholas Oresme, Tractatus de commensurabilitate vel incommensurabilitate motuum celi, trans. Edward Grant (Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press, 1971), 298–299. 49 Ibid., 300–301.

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be rejected.”50 When rationalists such as Gersonides mentioned human perfection, they meant moral and rational perfection. From their perspective, the goal is intellectual perfection, and all others are only means. The intellect had always been perceived as a layer of the soul, tied to or dependent on it. Hence, influence over forces within the soul is also influence over the intellect. At the same time, intellectual perfection was tied to asceticism, meant to neutralize the material human dimension.51 The following discussion addresses psychological aspects of music as a technique for attaining intellectual perfection and communion with the supernal world on the one hand, and as a means for joy and for passive materiality on the other. Song and melody stimulated and inspired the attainment of perfection, mainly among medieval circles leaning toward Neoplatonism. I will illustrate this by briefly describing the thought of two Byzantian sages from the late Middle Ages who were influenced by the Neoplatonic philosophical climate.52 Elnathan Kalkish, a Byzantian kabbalist and thinker who traveled in the midfourteenth century between Trabzon and Constantinople, wrote: That is why the soul of the tsadik constantly yearns and longs for spirituality, desiring to hear the joyful and majestic songs that bring to the person splendor and light, and not the sad ones, because sadness clouds the pleasant celestial light, as it is said, “but all the people of Israel had light where they dwelt” (Exodus 10:23).53

50 Levi ben Gershom (Gersonides), Commentary on Song of Songs, trans. Menachem Kellner (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1998), 1:1, 17. Mendelssohn claimed that the ancients had established that singing helps to internalize religious truth. See Gideon Freudenthal, No Religion Without Idolatry: Mendelssohn’s Jewish Enlightenment (Notre Dame, ID: University of Notre Dame Press, 2012), 205–206. 51 See Dov Schwartz, “Asceticism and Self-Mortification: Attitudes Held by a Provençal Circle of Commentators of the Kuzari,” Jerusalem Studies in Jewish Thought 11 (1993): 79–99; idem, “Ethics and Asceticism in Medieval Jewish Philosophy,” in Between Religion and Ethics, ed. Daniel Statman and Avi Sagi (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 1993), 185–208 [Heb]. 52 On musical tradition among Jews in Byzantium, see the comments of Amnon Shiloah, “The Romaniot Musical Tradition,” Musica Antiqua 7 (1985): 247–256. 53 Elnathan Kalkish, Even Sapir, Paris MS 727, 104a. This work was written in 1367. On Kalkish, see, for example, Israel Ta-Shma, “R. Jesaiah di Trani the Elder and His Connections with Byzantium and Palestine,” Shalem 4 (1984): 411–416 [Heb]; Idel, The Mystical Experience, 77 and Index, under Kalkish.

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Kalkish adopted the Platonic view of music as a significant educational factor. Consequently, depressive songs should be avoided and “joyful” ones should be encouraged, an approach he stated in the context of strongly condemning the ignorant and the multitudes.54 The yearning for music is thus a characteristic feature of the perfect individual’s soul. Kalkish noted that the entry of the High Priest to the Holy of Holies on the Day of Atonement was accompanied by “joy and songs.”55 Kalkish also assumed continuity between material life and life after death, based on the musical production of the soul. On the soul’s fate after death, he writes: [The soul] is released from slavery and returns perfumed with myrrh,56 delighting and spreading its wings upward while singing the song “let everything that breathes praise the Lord! Praise the Lord!” (Psalms 150:6), because it is [now] spiritual and hidden from the hearts of the learned, rushing to ascend to its own temple to behold the beauty of the Lord and visit his temple (Psalms 27:4).57 Music is indeed perceived as a representation of the soul’s state. The ascription of song to the soul, however, also implies the acknowledgment of music’s deep psychological influence. Kalkish presents in this passage the Neoplatonic approach, which claims that the soul’s existence in the body brings pain and suffering. Since the source of the soul is in supernal spheres, its existence in matter means separation and detachment from its origin. The soul is described as enslaved; death releases it and returns it to its cradle.58 According to Kalkish, the soul’s return to the supernal world is characterized by song. He points to Psalm 150, which mentions song and musical instruments.59 Song accompanies

54 On the elitist trend in Byzantian thought, see Dov Schwartz, Amulets, Properties, and Rationalism in Medieval Jewish Thought (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2004), 157 [Heb]. 55 Kalkish, Even Sapir, 50a. 56 According to Song of Songs 3:6 and 4:14. 57 Kalkish, Even Sapir 77b. 58 This is a recurrent motif in medieval rationalist literature. See, for example, Dov Schwartz, The Philosophy of a Fourteenth-Century Jewish Neoplatonic Circle ( Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1996), 176–177 [Heb]. 59 Note that in his commentary on The Kuzari, Judah Moscato assumed that King David’s choice of Psalm 150 to conclude the Book of Psalms suggests he wished to “show that, through the power of these melodies, the soul will awaken to praise God, may He be

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and characterizes the soul’s spiritual dimension in life and, ultimately, also after its ascent to heaven. In material life, singing fulfills a need of the perfect human, and after death, it becomes part of the typical spiritual activity.60 Shlomo Alkabetz, the sixteenth-century kabbalist, explained that lullabies put babies to sleep because music neutralizes their bodies and reminds them of the world of angels they have recently abandoned.61 Song of Songs was an important source in determining the place of song in canonic literature. An extensive corpus of medieval allegorical philosophical literature developed as commentaries on Song of Songs. Both rationalists and kabbalists tied this biblical text to psychological and intellectual domains.62 In the rationalist literature in particular, the bride was perceived as a metaphor of the human intellect, and the lover—of the Active Intellect. Ephraim ben Gershon, a preacher who wandered around Byzantium and then settled in Istanbul in 1469, emphasized several times in his sermons the motif of song as a landmark in human intellectual activity: “The song of the wise soul is as the song of the intellect.”63 Song of Songs presents a dual song:

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glorified and exalted.” Judah Moscato, The Kuzari with the Kol Yehuda commentary, vol. 2 (Warsaw, 1880), 65, 75a [Heb]. Music, then, awakens the soul to sing praises. Worth noting in this context is that, at times, paradise is described in musical terms. For example, Kalonymous ben Kalonymous wrote about the soul: “beat your tambourines and go into the dance of the righteous in paradise” (Kalonymus ben Kalonymus, Even Bochan, ed. Abraham Haberman [Tel Aviv: Machbarot le-Sifrut, 1956], 110). David Stav, Bein ha-Zmanim: Leisure and Recreation from a Jewish Perspective (Tel Aviv: Miskal, 2012), 167 [Heb]. See Abraham S. Halkin, “Ibn Aknin’s Commentary on the Song of Songs,” in Alexander Marx Jubilee Volume: On the Occasion of His Seventieth Birthday, ed. Saul Lieberman (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1950), 389–420; Israel Ravitzky, “Immanuel the Roman’s Commentary on Song of Songs: The Philosophical Section,” (MA Thesis: Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 1970), 133–151 [Heb]; Menachem Marc Kellner, “Gersonides’ Commentary on Song of Songs: For Whom Was It Written and Why,” in Gersonides en son temps: science et philosophie médiévales, ed. Gilbert Dahan (Louvain: E. Peeters, 1991), 81–107; Tzvi Langermann, “Saving the Soul by Knowing the Soul: A Medieval Yemeni Interpretation of Song of Songs,” Journal of Jewish Thought and Philosophy 12 (2003): 147–166; Dov Schwartz, “Notes on R. Shemarya ha-Ikiriti’s Commentary on Song of Songs” in Rabbi Yosef Kafih Memorial Volume, ed. Zohar Amar and Hananel Seri (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2001), 319–333 [Heb]; Zeev Gries, “The Ancient Kabbalistic Commentaries on Song of Songs,” Mar’eh 1 (2006): 18–24 [Heb]; Michael Gross, “Rabbi Moses ibn Tibbon’s Commentary on the Song of Songs: Education, Repentance and Human Redemption,” in On Repentance and Redemption: Presented to Binyamin Gross, ed. Dov Schwartz and Ariel Gross (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2008), 279–312 [Heb]. London MS, British Museum 379, 129a. On Ephraim b. Gershon, see Joseph R. Hacker, “The Ottoman System of Sürgün and Its Influence on Jewish Society in the Ottoman Empire,” Zion 55 (1990), 41–45, 49–50 [Heb]; Dov Schwartz, “The Sources of R. Ephraim ben Gershon: Sources and Character,” Alei Sefer 21 (2010): 91–98 [Heb].

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the song of the human intellect and the song of the Active Intellect. The material intellect “courts” the Active Intellect, seeking communion with it through song. “This song is the poet of the intellect, who is the lover and the groom, and truly the great king.”64 Song, then, describes and characterizes the state of the intellect. These descriptions of Kalkish and Ephraim ben Gershon are not directly related to music, but in their Neoplatonic background music is an important feature of rhythmic and melodic singing.65 The perception of song as a means for the soul’s perfection presents a dual instrumentalism, typical of medieval thought in general: music is a means for the soul’s perfection that, in turn, is a means for the religious and rationalist ends pervaded by Neoplatonic nuances. The soulperfection is the precondition for communion with the divine and for return to its lost source.

Need In the modern period, a new psychological perception of music began to take shape, focusing on the fulfillment of the soul’s needs. In the medieval period, music had been perceived as a preparation and a means for attaining other, nobler purposes. Music brings the serenity that enables listeners to receive prophecy or emanation from supernal words and, according to some Neoplatonic thinkers, it even elevates the soul. By contrast, in the modern era, the psychological goal is stressed as an independent value. Music is henceforth a technique that refines and balances the soul, not necessarily in order to reach sublime religious goals. Music is a need of the soul and a foundation for its proper functioning. One expression of this change can be found in the commentary of Samson Raphael Hirsch on the biblical figure of Jubal.66 Hirsch links Jubal to Cain, even though the biblical text does not do so: In Kayin’s world, art is just as necessary as industry. When man departed from God, inner harmony departed from man’s heart. Art seeks to restore man’s inner harmony through external

64 Derashot, London MS, British Museum 379, 11b. On the hermeneutical issue in general, see H. Shmueli, “Music in Medieval Biblical Exegesis,” Fourth World Congress of Jewish Studies, vol. 2 ( Jerusalem: World Union of Jewish Studies, 1968), 409–412 [Heb]. 65 On singing and music, see above, 26–32. 66 See above, 75–76.

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stimulation. This is especially true of music. Music expresses neither images nor concepts, but only moods and feelings; it presents and awakens feelings, and thus sensitizes the soul. Like all fine art, music is a preliminary stage in the education of mankind toward goodness and truth. . . . In Kayin’s world, art signifies that man has aspirations more exalted than the increase of material possessions.67 In his commentary, Hirsch emphasizes the educational and aesthetic aspects of music.68 He relies indirectly on the Platonic tradition that stated the value of musical education. Music prepares the student for values because it is abstract. Hirsch rejects thematic music as merely an expression of moods. By distancing the person from materialism, music enables the possibility of imparting values. This is also the biblical context of this approach. The chain of events presents Cain as a man with a coarse and troubled soul, lacking any values, and the counterreaction to such a personality is to create music, which refines the soul and prepares it to absorb moral and ethical values. The following discussion deals with another modern view, which presents music as a means for satisfying the needs of the soul.69

Joy One of the motifs shaping the instrumental approach to music is its perception as a source of joy and pleasure.70 Joy depends on the nature of the melodies, since music might also bring feelings of sadness and distress and plays a prominent role in mourning rituals (“keeners”).71 In Jewish thought, however,

67 Samson Raphael Hirsch, The Hirsch Chumash: The Five Books of the Torah, trans. Daniel Haberman, vol. 1, Genesis 4:21 ( Jerusalem and New York: Feldheim, 2002), 143–144. 68 On Hirsch’s educational approach, see Noah H. Rosenbloom, Tradition in an Age of Reform: The Religious Philosophy of Samson Raphael Hirsch (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1976), 343–368. 69 See the discussion in Ze’ev Jawitz, Collected Writings, ed. Biniyamin Klar ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1943) [Heb]. 70 See, for example, Amnon Shiloah, The Musical Legacy of Jewish Communities (Tel Aviv: Open University Press, 1985–1987), unit 4, 19–20 [Heb]; Moshe Hallamish, “On Religious Joy,” in The Meaning of Life, ed. Asa Kasher (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 1999), 223–238 [Heb]. 71 See, for example, the preface of Moshe Almosnino, a sixteenth-century sage from Salonica, to his commentary on Lamentations, Sefer Yad Moshe al Megilat Ekhah (Bnei Brak, 1985),

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the effect of music on emotions is usually to bring joy. There are two central sources for it: 1) the song of angels brings pleasure to the supernal world; 2) joy helps the mood that enables prophecy. The song of the angels is a distinct motif in Scripture, in the Apocrypha, and in the Hekhalot and Merkavah literature.72 Fundamentally, this singing is praise for the Creator and its direct result is pleasure in the supernal world. The author of the Zohar colorfully described the sounds made by angels beating their wings.73 Reshit Chokhmah by Eliyahu de Vidas (d. 1587), a leading kabbalistic commentary that greatly influenced neo-Hasidism, includes a broad discussion of the musical elements of joy. De Vidas relies on the Zohar literature and on Brit Menuchah, an authoritative source for kabbalists in the early modern period, to point out music’s celestial source (“angelic beings”),74 and summed up: “since all the heavenly beings sing of their longing for attachment to Him, in the same way, you must also sing and praise to give joy to your Maker in order to cleave to Him, for the song gives rise to passionate attachment [devekut].”75 The virtues of music, then, including its help in reaching this passionate attachment, derive from the joy and pleasure it evokes. The song of the angels shapes divine communion. In de Vidas’ description, earthly and heavenly joy meet through music. Music, as noted, is an important technique for attaining prophecy because it brings joy and a sense of pleasure. In addition to the material cited above, various other sources deal with the joy that results from music. One example of the

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3–4. Almosnino presents there the playing of the lyre as multiplying the sadness over the exile and the destruction. Many scholars have already addressed this issue. See, for example, Moshe Weinfeld, “Traces of Kedushat Yozer and Pesukey de-Zimra in the Qumran Literature and in Ben-Sira,” Tarbiz 45 (1975): 15–26 [Heb]; Ithamar Gruenwald, “The Song of the Angels, the Qedushah and the Composition of the Hekhalot Literature,” in Jerusalem in the Second Temple Period: Abraham Schalit Memorial Volume, ed. A. Oppenheimer, U. Rappaport, M. Stern ( Jerusalem: Yad Yizhak Ben-Zvi, 1981), 459–481 [Heb]; Rachel Elior, The Three Temples: On the Emergence of Jewish Mysticism, trans. David Louvish (Oxford: Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2004), 79–80. Fischel Lachower and Isaiah Tishby, eds., The Wisdom of the Zohar: An Anthology of Texts, vol. 2 (Oxford: Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 1989), 623–626, 636–637. Elyahu de Vidas, Reshit Chokhmah (Monkatch, 1942), 86b. English translation, The Beginning of Wisdom, trans. Simha H. Benyosef (Hoboken, NJ: Ktav, 2002), 297. Ibid., 299 (86b). For additional sources, see Reshit Chokhmah, ed. Hayyim Yosef Waldman, vol. 3 ( Jerusalem, 1984), 822 [Heb].

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formulation of this psychological principle can be found in the words of Meir Arama (sixteenth century), the son of Yitzhak Arama who wrote the famous book of homilies Akedat Yitshak. He writes that “because laughter and song will rise from the heart . . . and this is the song the heart will rejoice with . . . as the joy of one who walks with a flute to come to God’s mountain.”76 Hasidism also fostered the musical ethos anchored in the importance of joy, as I discuss below.

The Nigun in Hasidism Hasidic thought brings together nigun, joy, and a concentrated theological residue.77 The discussion below considers a series of early Hasidic sources reflecting this encounter. I will first cite two well-known testimonies from various periods, one early and historical and the second late (largely retrospective) and literary, to emphasize the crucial role of music in Hasidic life. The rich and well-known testimony of Solomon Maimon (1753–1800) about the Hasidic ethos in the court of the Maggid of Mezeritch affords a glimpse into the association between music and life in a Hasidic court. This testimony affected the attitude of the Haskalah toward Hasidism and has been discussed in several studies. Maimon’s description includes many details about the musical element and its central role in Hasidic life. I consider its presence in four realms below. 1)  The ritual realm. The vocal component is important in worship, and Maimon describes the activity accompanying prayer. In their public

76 Exegesis of Isaiah 30:29 in Sefer Urim ve-Tumim (Venice, 1603), 15a. 77 Much has been written about the Hasidic nigun, and references to some of these sources appear in the discussions below. See, for example, Shmuel Zalmanov, “The Rebbe and the Nigun,” in Sefer ha-Ken: On R. Schneur Zalman of Lyady on the 150th Anniversary of His Death, ed. Abraham Haberman ( Jerusalem: Kiryat Sefer, 1969), 70–75 [Heb]; Yosef Dan, The Hasidic Story: Its History and Development ( Jerusalem: Keter, 1975), 52 [Heb]; David Assaf, “‘A Girl! He Ought to be Whipped’: The Hasid as Homo Ludens,” in Let the Old Make Way for the New: Studies in the Social and Cultural History of Eastern European Jewry Presented to Immanuel Etkes, ed. David Assaf and Ada Rapoport-Albert, vol. 1, Hasidism and the Musar Movement ( Jerusalem: The Zalman Shazar Center for Jewish History, 2009), 121–150 [Heb]; Dinah Levin, “The Soul Nigun in the Hasidic Tale,” Da`at 4 (2006–2007), http:// www.daat.ac.il/daat/ktav_et/maamar.asp?ktavet=1&id=189 [Heb]. Assaf dealt with Hasidic music in his extensive bibliographic endeavor. See, for example, idem, “Hasidism in Poland in the Nineteenth Century: The State of Research and Bibliographic Survey,” in Hasidism in Poland, ed. Israel Bartal, Rachel Elior, and Chone Shmeruk ( Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1994), 375–376 [Heb].

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prayers, “[the Hasidim] laboured, by all sorts of mechanical operations, such as movements and cries, to bring themselves back into this state [elevation above the body]. . . . It was amusing to observe how they often interrupted their prayers by all sorts of extraordinary tones and comical gestures.”78 2)  The theological realm. Maimon cited a homily he had heard from a Hasid, focusing on the need for passivity so as to internalize the divine presence. The passive human is compared to a musical instrument, claimed the preacher, because “so long as the person serves as an agent, he is not ready to receive the influence of the Holy Spirit; for this purpose, he must serve as a musical instrument, and only to be activated.”79 3)  The leadership realm. The authority of the tsadik is indirectly anchored in music. Maimon described the Sabbath meal (tish), which ended when the rabbi “struck up a solemn inspiring melody.”80 The nigun is viewed as a preparation for the tsadik’s sermon. 4)  The magic realm. Here too, the authority of the tsadik is anchored in a musical image. The tsadik is a receptacle for emanation, as a musical instrument is a means for producing music.81 The magical dimension is indirectly derived from the theological realm. The nigun remained in Maimon’s soul even after he had abandoned the traditional way of life.82 His descriptions enable us to understand the key role of music in the development of the Hasidic court.

78 Solomon Maimon, Solomon Maimon: An Autobiography, trans. J. Clark Murray (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2001), 161. 79 Ibid., 166. See also Abraham Rubinstein, “The Manuscript Treatise Zimrat Am ha-Arets,” in Areshet: An Annual of Hebrew Booklore, vol. 3, ed. Naphtali Ben-Menachem and Yitzhak Raphael ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1961), 211–212 [Heb]. 80 Maimon, Autobiography, 168. 81 See Moshe Idel, Hasidism: Between Ecstasy and Magic (Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1995), 198. On this description by Maimon, see also Simon Dubnow, The History of Hasidism (Tel Aviv: Dvir, 1975), 84–86 [Heb]. 82 As the following testimony shows: ““When he was alone or in company, it would often happen that he would remember some Jewish melody, one of those sung on the long night [he may be referring to the tikkun on Shavu´ot night or to the night of Hoshana Rabbah] or on one of the other holidays, and then sing them to himself with the words. And although he had already lived many years as a non-Jew, these melodies strongly moved him. Thus, for example, he would sometimes come to the painter Zeliger, a Jewish apostate, who would jestingly play such a melody on the violin, an adagio that is usually festively sung in the evening, at the beginning of the long night. I myself witnessed him [Maimon] unable to stop his tears, apparently remembering his life then, when his views had also been different and he had been happier. Though he had no talent at all for singing, he greatly valued gifted

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Maimon was not the only one to point out the value of the nigun in Hasidic life. A later literary description appears in the famous story of Y. L. Peretz (1851–1915), “Ah Gilgul fun ah Nigun” [The metamorphoses of a melody]. As an introduction to his story, Peretz presented a kind of literary-philosophical analysis of the nigun, pointing to the renaissance of music brought about by Hasidism and to the following stages in the gradual spread of the nigun’s influence. 1)  Musical education. “If you want to know how many menfolk there are in a household, just look at the walls. As many violins as are hanging on the wall that’s how many men there are!” Irony, even pessimism, are intimated in his description of musical interests across the generations: the grandfather plays holy nigunim, the father—the tsadik’s melodies, and the grandson—“tunes from the theater!”83 2)  The broad range of impressions left by the musical expression. “With the same bricks [metaphor for the notes] you can build a synagogue and (not to be compared) a church; a palace and a prison; and even a poorhouse!” Performance plays a key role in the impression on the listener’s soul. “Singing, you must realize, is a serious matter! . . . But what matters is who is singing and what he’s singing.”84 3)  The cosmic dimension of music. “Everything has a voice, its particular sound—if not, indeed, a complete melody!” But cosmic music is as matter, and humans grant it form. “The soul of the melody derives from the feelings of a human being.”85 4)  The vitality of music. “Because, gentlemen, I believe that what adds to my life, must itself have life and is alive! And therefore, if a song inspires me with life; if it revives me, renews my soul, then I say that the song lives. . . .”86

singing, and even more so music. He was extremely sorry that he had not been given the chance to learn to play an instrument and, to compensate for it in some way, he bought a lyre, on which he could play a few works. But he soon tired of this pastime.” Sabattia Joseph Wolff, Maimoniana, oder Rhapsodien zur Charakteristik Salomon Maimons (Berlin: G. Hayn, 1813), 87–88. 83 Yitskhok Leybush Peretz, Selected Stories: Bilingual Edition, trans. Eli Katz (New York: Zhitlowsky Foundation for Jewish Culture, 1991), 230. This trajectory hints at the secularization process, when Hasidism (the melodies of the tsadik) is the middle and central link.* 84 Ibid. 85 Ibid., 234. 86 Ibid., 236. On the neo-Hasidic writing of Peretz and other writers, see Nicham Ross, Beloved-Despised Tradition: Modern Jewish Identity and Neo-Hasidic Writing at the Beginning

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The story “The Metamorphoses of a Melody” impressed critics as well as writers and philosophers. Rabbi Binyamin (Yehoshua Radler-Feldman) wrote in one of his many notes: “Y. L. Peretz was himself a kind of metamorphosis of a melody. He was the melody and the player . . . And then, while the musician was playing, the power of the Lord came on him (II Kings 3:15).”87 Joseph B. Soloveitchik used Peretz’s story to describe a charismatic type of person who seeks to communicate with the other, contrary to the lonely and introverted type.88 He did not address the Hasidic aspect but music is an expression of communication with the other and with the surroundings. Peretz’s story, as noted, related to the nigun ironically since its various manifestations reflect not only exaltation but also despair and loss. Maimon’s historical testimony and Peretz’s literary reference, however, emphasized the centrality of the nigun in Hasidic life. In previous sections, I dwelt on the positions of several kabbalists who preceded Luria. The paths of perfection in Lurianic Kabbalah are meant for the highest ranks of apprehension and experience and are not available to all people.89 Not so in neo-Hasidism, which did not recoil from allowing states of supreme perfection and communion to simpletons and ignoramuses. The musical accompaniment that enables joy thereby became everyone’s privilege. Henceforth, music is not solely a means for attaining elitist religious perfection

of the Twentieth Century (Beer Sheva: Ben-Gurion University of the Negev Press, 2010), 500–501 [Heb]. 87 Rabbi Binyamin (Yehoshua Radler-Feldman), On the Border: Notes and Articles (Vienna: Union, 1922), 227 [Heb]. 88 See Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Man and His World, trans. Moshe Krona ( Jerusalem: WZO, 1998), 35–36 [Heb]: “The teacher says: There are levels in the expression of a nigun. Some nigunim are unintelligible without the help of words and only through the words can the listener understand them properly while others do not require help from words at all and are self-evident. The voice of the player, who is no more than a mediator between the spiritual in the nigun and its actual expression, is very important. Indeed, the nigun may not need the poet’s voice because it is playing out by itself in the hidden layers of the player’s soul. There, inside the soul, the nigun is pure and clean. As the psalmist says, ‘All my bones shall say, O Lord, who is like thee’ (Psalms 35:10). Here the nigun is the supreme level since the Holy One, blessed be He, created man and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life (Genesis 2:7). This is the speechless nigun of the soul, which the Creator breathed into man’s nostrils. This nigun, intelligible even without words, is in a way a fragment of the nigun that the Creator bestows on humans. Each such nigun expresses the human charismatic essence, a valuable gift that is granted to every human being and not necessarily only to the most famous great composers. Each person plays his nigun according to his ability and talent, and can do so speechlessly as in ‘all my bones shall say.’” 89 Scholars are split on the popularity of Lurianic Kabbalah and on its power to shape history. See, for example, Moshe Idel, “‘One from a City and Two from a Family’: Reconsidering the Spread of Lurianic Kabbalah and Sabbateanism,” Pe’amim: Studies in Oriental Jewry 44 (1990): 5–30 [Heb].

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but also a part of day-to-day life. A scholar of Hasidic music went so far as to claim that “at the time, the Hasidic nigun rescued the Jewish masses in Eastern Europe from musical decay.”90 In Hasidism joy is an independent ideal and a state of mind that the Hasid has reached or should pursue. Song and dance are perceived as primary, immediate means of attaining joy.91 This approach is not a Hasidic innovation,92 but Hasidism turned it into a key element of religious life. Furthermore, from a theological perspective, Hasidism emphasized the divine presence in existence to the point of stripping the self from its individual identity. Music is a means for exposing the divine presence through ecstatic activity.93

90 Meir Shimon Gshuri, “Hasidic Music in Education,” Dukhan 2 (1961): 76 [Heb]. See also Yaakov Mazor, André Hajdu, and Batya Bayer, “The Hasidic Dance-Nigun: A Study Collection and Its Classificatory Analysis,” Yuval 3 (1974): 136–266. 91 See Paul B. Fenton, “Sacred Dance in Jewish Spirituality: Hasidic Dance,” Da`at 45 (2000): 135–145 [Heb]. Rivka Schatz Uffenheimer referred to Hasidic joy as “the joy of elevation” and “intoxicated joy.” See her Hasidism as Mysticism: Quietistic Elements in EighteenthCentury Hasidic Thought, trans. Jonathan Chipman (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1993), 58. The Habad view of dance deserves brief mention here. Habad rabbis noted that only dancing steps detach both feet from the ground at the same time. They saw in this a hint to the dilug (skipping), a key concept in Habad theology pointing to the original creation. Given the absence of any common denominator between God and his creatures, the first move of creation implies, in a way, a leap over this abyss or gap. Dancing reflects a technique for reaching the pre-creation stage, that is, leaping over the gap between God and objects. 92 See Azriel Shochat, “On Joy in Hasidism,” Zion 16, nos. 1–2 (1951): 41–42 [Heb]; Yaakov Mazor, “The Power of the Nigun in Hasidic Thought and Its Roles in Social and Religious Life,” in Studies in Honour of Israel Adler, ed. Eliyahu Schleifer and Edwin Seroussi ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2002), Yuval 7 (2002): 37–39 [Heb]. 93 See Louis Jacobs, Hasidic Prayer (New York: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1972), 93–103. Idel pointed out the meaning of “automatic” speech in the context of joy. See Idel, Hasidism: Between Ecstasy and Magic, 164–165. On “automatic” nigun in an ecstatic state, Hasidic tradition speaks of Shmelke of Nikolsburg (1726–1778): “when he stood in prayer during Sabbaths and holidays, and especially at the Avodah in the Days of Awe [on the Service of the High Priest according to the Day of Atonement’s musaf prayer], when saying ‘and thus did he count—one and one; one’ and so forth, he would direct attention to each and every letter, then lengthening it and composing marvelous new nigunim that no one had ever heard before and no human ear had ever listened to, and he never knew what nigun he was playing because he would wander around in his thought in communion with the supernal world, and the voice would come out of his mouth with wondrous nigunim sweet to those hearing them, all pleasing and delightful” (cited in Abraham Yitzhak Sperling, Te`amei ha-Minhagim u-Mekorei ha-Dinim [ Jerusalem: Eshkol, 1972], 52). The musical aspects of the Hasidic story seem to require further study. See, for example, on the story of the pipe, Eli Yassif, The Hebrew Folktale: History, Genre, Meaning, trans. Jacqueline S. Teitelbaum (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1999), 386; Gedaliah Nigal, Glossary of the Hasidic Story ( Jerusalem: Institute for the Study of Hasidic Literature, 2005), 170 [Heb].

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Nigun, song, and dance in Hasidism have been discussed in scholarship.94 Music as a philosophical component that sets the foundations for a comprehensive worldview, however, has not received sufficient attention. Yet, music is a significant element in central Hasidic approaches, extending to the ontological kabbalistic substrate and to the day-to-day ethos. The philosophical kabbalistic and the social communal dimensions coalesce in Hasidic music. Following are several examples of the role ascribed to the musical motif by the founders of Hasidism. 1)  Joy and anxiety. A homily of Yaakov Yosef of Pollonye (d. 1782) on the shofar includes a discussion on the character of the sound and its psychological representation. At the Temple on Rosh ha-Shanah, they would blow a shofar and two trumpets.95 The trumpets would blow two short blasts, and the shofar, a longer one. Yaakov Yosef claimed that the “task of the nigun” was “to evoke joy.”96 The trumpets, therefore, bring joy, as opposed to the shofar, which evokes anxiety. On Rosh ha-Shanah, a balance must prevail between love and awe, joy and anxiety, but the dominant motif is the fear of the awaiting judgment, hence the longer shofar sound. 2)  Receptacle for the emanation. According to the commentary of Elimelech of Lizhensk (1704–1772), the verse “Sing [shiru] to God, sing [zamru] praises to his name” (Psalms 68:5) hints at the ontological aspect of music. In this commentary, Elimelech identified zemer and shirah with, respectively, the sefirot of tif’eret and malkhut. The Hasidic musical ethos derives from this symbolic identification: “One should greatly beware of taking pride on this account [singing], and greatly strengthen oneself so that the singing is heard as if the Shekhinah were speaking from one’s throat.”97 In the teachings of Menachem Mendel of Vitebsk (1730–1788), the person reaching communion with God is compared to a musical instrument played by the divinity. That is

94 See, for example, Aaron Wertheim, Customs and Laws in Hasidism ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1960), 97–109 [Heb]; Arthur Green, Tormented Master: A Life of Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav (Alabama: University of Alabama Press, 1979), 140–142; Shochat, “On Joy.” 95 M. Rosh ha-Shanah 3:3; BT Rosh ha-Shanah 27a. 96 Yaakov Yosef Hacohen of Pollonye, Toledot Ya`akov Yosef (Lviv, 1863), 99d [Heb]. A collection of sources on music by R. Yaakov Yosef appears in Sperling, Te`amei ha-Minhagim, 122–123. 97 Elimelech of Lizhensk, Likkutei Shoshanah, printed in No`am Elimelech, ed. Gedaliah Nigal ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1973), 550–551 [Heb].

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the meaning of the term bitul (self-nullification), a key concept in the Hasidic ethos,98 in a formulation reasserting the principle that music enables individuals to become receptacles for the divine presence. 3)  Interpretation. According to Dov Ber, the Maggid of Mezeritch (1704–1772), music shapes the meaning of prophecy. “The prophet would not, Heaven forfend, change the words he had heard from the Holy One, blessed be He, but all depended on the prophet’s nigun—in what nigun did he communicate this prophecy to Israel.”99 The Maggid refers here mainly to the cantillation signs, meaning that, for the prophet, these signs could turn the prophecy “from anger to compassion.” 4) The tsadik. Hasidism’s forebears ascribed essential importance to nigun and song and claimed that only the tsadik could grasp their celestial sources and use their emanation accordingly. The tsadik exposes the parallel between the nigun and the divine or cosmic emanation. Ephraim of Sadlikow (c. 1742–1800) described a hierarchy in the nigun from its supreme source down to its “coarsest” manifestations— Gentile melodies.100 Hasidic tsadikim took pride in adapting “alien” melodies in use in their Gentile surroundings.101 5)  Reflection. Music enables people to confront their errors and wrongdoings. Self-confrontation is described as a far more difficult task than confronting the entire world, and only music enables us to look inward. This approach emerges from the mystical journal of Yitzhak Aizik of Komarna (1806–1874), in a story about the Ba`al Shem Tov:

A musician once came with to play before him. The reby, our rabbi understood all the sins that he had committed from the day of his birth until then and, consequently, he confessed to 98 See Bezalel Safran, “Maharal and Early Hasidism,” in Hasidism: Continuity or Innovation, ed. Bezalel Safran (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1988), 88. 99 Dov of Mezeritch, Or Torah (Brooklyn: Maggid Hod Torah, 1980), 108c [Heb]; idem, Likkutim Yekarim ( Jerusalem, 1974), 69a. 100 See Mendel Piekarz, Studies in Bratslav Hasidism ( Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1972), 100–101 [Heb]; Mazor, “The Power of the Nigun,” 46–47. On the mutual relationship between Hasidic music and Russian and Ukrainian folk music, see the comments of Mordechai Breuer, “Problems and Paths in the Study of Hasidic Music,” Dukhan 4 (1963): 41–43 [Heb]. 101 Gershom Scholem claimed that Sabbatai Zvi had acted in this fashion. See Gershom Scholem, Sabbatai Sevi: The Mystical Messiah, 1626–1676, trans. R. J. Zwi Werblowsky (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1973), 158–159.

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him. For although our master rabbi could see from one end of the world to the other all of a person’s thoughts from the day of his birth—“when he sees iniquity, will he not consider it?” ( Job 11:11)—and yet, he had not until the musician played before him and the Holy of Holies entered his ears.102 These are only a few examples. Unquestionably, in the Hasidic ethos, music is, above all, an expression of joy. R. Nachman of Bratslav, for example, sanctified singing and dancing because they bring joy.103 Bratslav’s followers also pointed to the effect of music on imagination.104 And yet, music is far more entrenched as a theological motif than as a psychological tool. At times, the level of communion attained by the tsadik and the Hasid is estimated according to their capability for song and dance. In Hasidic narrative, the quality and holiness of a Torah address is the function of its nigun.105 Henceforth, the musical motif appears as a consideration in Hasidic leadership and thought.106 Some thinkers even exaggerated the role of the nigun. One example is the approach of Gedaliah Bublick (1875–1948), a religious-Zionist publicist who claimed that music in Hasidism functioned as an alternative to Torah study: Hasidism is the song of Judaism, the “Song of Songs” of the Jewish soul. Not in vain are nigun and singing so honored in Hasidism. Through the nigun, the Hasid rises to supernal worlds and even reaches the Shekhinah and the divine throne, melding with all those supreme things that hover high above, beyond the

102 Isaac Judah Jehiel Safrin, The Book of Secrets, in Jewish Mystical Autobiographies: Book of Visions and Book of Secrets, trans. Morris M. Faierstein (New York: Paulist Press, 1999), 299 (with slight modification). 103 See Yisrael Zinberg, History of Jewish Literature, vol. 1 (Tel Aviv: Sifriat Hapoalim, 1959), 233 [Heb]. 104 See Shmuel Stern, Poetry and Melody in the Worship of God ( Jerusalem: Machon Lev Bratslav, 2006), Shir Binah, 10 and Shirat ha-Lev, 16 [Heb]. 105 See, for example, Siach Sar`afei ha-Kodesh (Lodz, 1928), 13b. For a collection of Hasidic stories connected to music see Stern, Poetry and Melody, Shir Binah, 124–128. 106 On the role of the nigun in Hasidic courts, see, for example, Abraham Zvi Idelsohn, “Hasidic Music,” in Sefer ha-Shanah: The American Hebrew Year Book, ed. Menachem Ribalow and S. Bernstein (New York: Histadruth Ivrith, 1935), 74–87 [Heb]; Meir Shimon Gshuri, Nigun and Dance in Hasidism, vol. 1 (Tel Aviv: Netsach, 1955) [Heb]; David Assaf, The Regal Way: The Life and Times of Rabbi Israel of Ruzhin, trans. David Louvish (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2002), 233–238; Mazor, “The Power of the Nigun,” 40–45.

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“inferior world” where we are found. What fills the mitnagdim— Torah study—the Hasidim fill with nigun and song.107 Bublick’s romantic perception of Hasidism only emphasizes the instrumental aspect of the nigun. To reiterate: although music is perceived as a preparation and a supplement in the attainment of joy, the value of physical passivity as a vessel for receiving the divine presence expands in Hasidic thought beyond its presentation as a psychological technique for communion and absolute reliance on the divinity. Music represents many various aspects of existence and worship. In Hasidic existence, nigun and dance are crucial for reaching a stage of indifference toward material reality and self-nullification before God. Joy as an expression of the divine presence appears also in the thought of Joseph B. Soloveitchik, who never denies the presence of Hasidic sources in his biography. He notes, “If man is happy, if he has a song on his lips and a melody in his heart, then let him recognize God.”108 Moreover, he says: What does a man do when he is full of inner joy and unable to express it? He begins to sing, and if his needs are not met in this way either, he resorts to musical instruments. He thus tries to add to the joy and add a dimension of wholeness to it.109 Music is ascribed a further role in Hasidic thought, rooted in its supernatural powers. This issue is discussed separately below.

The Health Regimen In antiquity, we find descriptions of healing through music (Philistion of Locri in Italy and Aesculapius).110 Medical tradition tied music to physiological healing, noticing the parallel between pulse and rhythm, the balance between the

107 Gedaliah Bublick, Selected Writings, vol. 1, ed. A. L. Gelman and Aaron Pachenick ( Jerusalem, 1962), 34 [Heb]. 108 Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Abraham’s Journey: Reflections o the Life of the Founding Patriarch, ed. David Schatz ( Jersey City, NJ: Ktav, 2008), 33. 109 Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Divrei Hashkafah, trans. (from Yiddish) Moshe Krona ( Jerusalem: WZO, 1994) [Heb]. The source of this idea is in the writings of the Habad thinker Shmuel Schneerson. See Stern, Poetry and Melody, Shir Binah, 22. 110 Cecilia C. Mettler, History of Medicine: A Correlative Text Arranged according to Subjects (Philadelphia: Blakiston, 1947), 498.

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four humors and musical harmony.111 The Ikhwān al-Safa (Brethren of Purity) wrote: “To each humour, to each nature, corresponds a rhythm and a melody, whose number can only be counted by God, powerful and great.”112 Saadia Gaon also noted kinds of melodies in his biblical commentary through a parallel with the action of the four humors.113 In The Book of Beliefs and Opinions, he also compared the rhythmical modes to the effect of colors on the humors and their fusion.114 From there, it was but a short path to a therapeutic perception of music. Profiat Duran writes in the preface to Ma`aseh Efod: “Philosophers will say that this knowledge [musical performance], which is the practical part of the science of music, has an effect [po`el] by moving the forces and by balancing man’s temperament, until returning it to health back to the path.”115 Medieval medical writings, such as Avicenna’s Canon and Averroes’ Kulliyat, resorted several times to musical knowledge required for healing purposes. For some thinkers, the conception of the harmony of the spheres, referring to the proportional correspondence between their movements, was the basis for the notion of their

111 See ibid., 548, 560; Amnon Shiloah, “Jewish and Muslim Traditions of Music Therapy,” in Music as Medicine: The History of Music Therapy since Antiquity, ed. Peregrine Horden (Aldershot, Hants: Ashgate, 2000), 69–83. The moral and therapeutic benefits of music are mentioned in Halevi, The Kuzari II:65. On later influences of this approach see, for example, Judah Moscato, Nefotsot Yehuda (Bnei Brak and New York: Mishor, 2000), 5a [Heb]. Judah b. Shmuel ibn Abbas (c. thirteenth century) noted that “a person should study some of it [the science of music] when studying medicine regarding the pulse, because this science is an extremely useful introduction on human movement and rest.” Simcha Assaf, Mekorot le-Toldot ha-Chinukh be-Yisrael: A Sourcebook for the History of Jewish Education from the Beginning of the Middle Ages to the Period of the Haskalah, ed. Shmuel Glick, vol. 2 (New York and Jerusalem: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 2001), 68 [Heb]. 112 Shiloah, The Epistle on Music, 25. 113 See Moshe Zucker, ed., Saadia’s Commentary on Genesis (New York: The Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1984), 303 [Heb]. 114 Saadia Gaon, The Book of Beliefs and Opinions, trans. Samuel Rosenblatt (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1948), treatise 10. On the sources for the comparison and on Saadia Gaon’s musical approach, see Henry George Farmer, Saadia Gaon on the Influence of Music (London: Arthur Probshtain, 1943); Hanoch Avenary, “A Genizah Find of Saadia’s PsalmPreface and Its Musical Aspects,” HUCA 27 (1950): 145–162 (reprinted in Eric Werner, ed., Contributions to a Historical Study of Jewish Music [New York: Ktav, 1976]); Uriel Simon, Four Approaches to the Book of Psalms: From Saadia Gaon to Abraham ibn Ezra, trans. Lenn J. Schramm (Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1991), 31–33; Amnon Shiloah, “Musical Concepts in the Works of Saadia Gaon,” Aleph 4 (2004): 265–282. 115 Yitzhak b. Moshe, known as Profiat Duran, Ma`aseh Efod, ed. Jakob Kohn and Jonathan Friedlander (Vienna, 1865), 20. Reprinted in Dov Rappel, “The Introduction to Ma`aseh Efod by Profiat Duran,” Sinai 100 (1987): 789 [Heb].

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influence on the human body. Music, then, which rests on proportions, is medically valuable.116 Physiological healing is linked to the psychological aspect. The significance of music in the healing of mental patients117 and in psychosomatic medicine118 is well known. Psychosomatic approaches relied on music for the solution of physiological problems as well. In this view, the influence of music on soul, discussed at length above, affects the body as well. Music is perceived as contributing to proper physiological activity. The mutual link between physical and mental healing is manifest, above all, in preventive medicine. Various medieval doctors addressed healthy conduct, that is, the proper way of living a healthy life and preventing illnesses. Music acquired a central role in the treatment of depression that was understood as an excess of black bile. Maimonides claimed that healthy conduct is a combination and a balance of physical and mental dimensions. For example, he wrote that the vital faculty, meaning the mental dimension, is strengthened by “musical instruments.”119 In his preface to Avot (“Eight Chapters”), he stated, “One who suffers from melancholia may rid himself of it by listening to singing and all kinds of instrumental music . . . and other things that enliven the mind, and dissipate gloomy moods.”120 In the Middle Ages, music as a component of joy became an integral element of an orderly health regimen. Meir Aldabi, a fourteenth-century thinker who dealt at length with instructions for a healthy regimen in his eclectic volume, brought forward the use of music to the earliest years: “And the wetnurse should always do joyful things for the child, do away with whatever makes

116 On this approach of Robert Grosseteste (1179–1253), see, for example, Lynn Thorndike, A History of Magic and Experimental Science, vol. 2 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1923), 445. 117 See, for example, Joshua Trachtenberg, Jewish Magic and Superstition: A Study in Folk Religion (New York: Atheneum, 1970), 196. 118 See Shiloah, Music in the World of Islam, 51–53. See also Dan Pagis, Poetry Aptly Explained: Studies and Essays on Medieval Hebrew Poetry ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1993), 274 [Heb]. 119 Maimonides, On the Regimen of Health, trans. Gerrit Bos (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2019), 84. 120 Maimonides, The Eight Chapters of Maimonides on Ethics (Shemonah Perakim): A Psychological and Ethical Treatise, trans. Joseph I. Gorfinkle (New York: AMS Press, 1966), 70. See also Warren Zev Harvey, “Ethics and Meta-Ethics: Aesthetics and Meta Aesthetics in Maimonides,” in Maimonides and Philosophy: Papers Presented at the Sixth Jerusalem Philosophical Encounter, ed. Shlomo Pines and Yirmiyahu Yovel (Dordrecht: M. Nijhoff, 1986), 134–135.

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him cry and sing to him [melodies] to make him happy and put him to sleep, because moderate sleep is extremely beneficial for him.”121 This approach left an imprint on later generations as well, though its character changed—the scientific approach was now clad in new theological garments. One example is the view of Jonathan Eybeschutz, who preached against apathy when observing the commandments: Because it [joy] awakens the soul—just as frivolous joy awakens the soul of the beast and as a nigun ordered according to the proper melodies, musical movements bring joy to the soul and heal it from the illness of the black bile. As Saul was healed when David played for him,122 so will the joy of observing the commandments awaken the intellectual soul, which is part of God above. By contrast, one who is sad when [performing a] commandment, awakens a spirit of impurity and Lilith, which is wailing and sadness to the soul.123 Medieval rationalists had viewed music as the regulation of physiological activity, and Eybeschutz shifted regulation to the theological realm claiming that, through its psychological qualities, music regulates routine divine worship. Resonating in this passage is the theurgic influence of music, discussed below. Joy awakens the supernal forces, whereas sadness awakens the powers of impurity. Music brings joy. The digression from the medical context of a health regimen to the theological discussion characterizes the change in philosophical trends in modernity from rationality to dogmatism and from philosophy to Kabbalah. Henceforth, discussion of the health regimen was relegated to the margins of the social religious discourse and replaced by a discussion of the theological regimen. The central influence of music on healing focuses on mental health. Joy and serenity enable the proper function of the body. The traditions about music’s psychological influence are ancient and the mental therapeutic principle of music has not dimmed over the years. In medieval philosophy, thinkers emphasized the advantages of music in the healing of mental patients and the

121 Meir Aldabi, Shvilei Emunah (Warsaw, 1887), 57c [Heb]. 122 This approach is also endorsed in Yaakov Farissol, Beit Ya`akov, Berlin MS 124, 39b. 123 Jonathan Eybeschutz, Ya`arot Devash, vol. 2, new ed. ( Jerusalem, 1984), sermon 5, 81 [Heb]. On music as a magical technique for removing Lilith’s spirit of impurity, see below, 180–181.

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therapeutic perception of music became a significant element in its status and image. At some stage, therapy became an experimental area. Musical therapy has gained theoretical and clinical ground in many universities throughout the world.124 Historically, the roots of this field are in the developments described here. Medicine’s acceptance of approaches that view body and soul as one entity or two mutually linked ones tied music to physical healing and to proper physiological functioning.

Music and Magic A discussion of utilitarian approaches in medieval and modern Jewish thought cannot be exhausted without dealing with magic. Control of nature, drawing down emanation from supernal elements, and the use of techniques that cannot be explained according to accepted scientific paradigms were crucial in the theological substrate of Jewish thought. Only in recent years has the history of ideas become aware of the deep penetration of magical conceptions into Jewish thought and of their central role in the shaping of conceptual and abstract doctrines. Magical approaches imprinted Jewish thought not only during the Middle Ages but later as well, and music was tied to this philosophical and anthropological development. The discussion below reviews the place of music in the array of magical approaches.

Astrology Many of the magical views of music have their roots in astrology. Indeed, astrologists determined the influence of stars in connection to music, among other domains. They discussed various celestial elements (signs, stars, and planets) and determined their various influences on the earthly world. According to astrological rules, planets exert a special and considerable influence on the fate of the earth’s inhabitants, some positive (such as Jupiter) and some negative (such as Mars). Among the early connections between music and astrology, the Pythagorean approach drew a parallel between each planet and a specific sound.

124 See, for example, William B. Davis, Kate E. Gfeller, and Michael H. Thaut, An Introduction to Music Therapy: Theory and Practice, 3rd ed. (Silver Spring, MD: American Music Therapy Association, 2008).

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In this way, each planet could also influence its nigun in the earthly world. The assumption about the influence on musical composition and performance, however, is related to Venus in particular.125 Venus was tied to aesthetic and sensual dimensions of existence (beauty, pleasure) and, therefore, many claimed it also influenced music. This planet was perceived as exerting a positive influence and, therefore, some viewed music as positive as well, while others viewed the connection to music as a deviation from the planet’s character. Several views on this issue appear below. The scientific activity of Abraham ibn Ezra focused on astrology. In a work about the foundations of astrology, he wrote that Venus is particularly influential with “musicians and poets.”126 This positive statement was reaffirmed among the disciples of Rashba (Shlomo ibn Aderet) and Rosh (Asher b. Yehiel) in mid-fourteenth-century Spain, particularly those who wrote quasi-encyclopedic works dealing with Halakhah, philosophy, health, popular science, and so forth. Menachem b. Zerah copied ibn Ezra’s formulations literally.127 Meir Aldabi wrote on the sphere of Venus: Through it, the Creator, may He be blessed, brings calm and tranquility, melodies, songs, and rejoicings, singing and gladness, and cries of bridal chambers,128 awakening all those who play the lyre and the pipe129 to be joyful and jubilant, with an expanded heart and pure eyes. And the skies are clear, and the 125 The ninth-century astrologist Abū Maʻshar, for example, noted that Venus oversees song and melody. See Abū Maʻshar, The Abbreviation of the Introduction to Astrology, ed. Charles Burnett, Keiji Yamamoto, and Michio Yano (Leiden: Brill, 1994), 64–65. The volume on magic Picatrix (Takhlit he-Chakham), which was widespread in Jewish Spain in the late medieval period, determined that Venus oversaw “strumming musical instruments” (Munich Ms., 63b). In a version of a prayer to Venus, the author again noted that this planet oversees the “hearing the songs” (ibid., 69a). 126 Shlomo Sela, ed. and trans., Abraham ibn Ezra’s Introduction to Astrology: A Parallel HebrewEnglish Critical Edition of the Book of the Beginning of Wisdom and the Book of the Judgments of the Zodiac Signs (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2017), 169. 127 Menachem b. Zerah, Tsedah la-Derekh, ch. 29, 19b (Warsaw, 1880). 128 See BT Ketubot 8a and prayerbooks. The source is in Solomon ibn Gabirol, Keter Malkhut [The kingly crown], trans. Bernard Lewis (Notre Dame, ID: University of Notre Dame Press, 2003): “She [Venus] renews in the world, by the will of her Creator, calm and tranquility, joy and delight, songs and rejoicings, and cries of bridal chambers,” section xiv, 62. And indeed, Yaakov di Alba, a preacher who wandered from Constantinople to Firenze at the end of the sixteenth century, cited these words in the name of “the paytan,” an unclear reference bearing derogatory implications. See Yaakov di Alba, Toledot Ya`akov (Venice, 1609), 5a. 129 According to Genesis 4:21.

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land shouts and rejoices130 as all hearts awaken to harp and lyre, tambourine and dance, cymbals and pipe,131 and in many amusements and lust, and it [Venus] inseminates the seed of the fruit in the fruit.132 Aldabi and Menachem b. Zerah emphasized the positive aspect of music, which is influenced by Venus. An ancient thinker, Shabtai Donolo (Italy, 913–c. 985), stated that the Levites are under the influence of Venus.133 Although Donolo did not explicitly mention music, he noted several times that Venus influences joy and music, which, as noted above, had consistently been perceived as an aid to joy. But the author of Or Einayim, a fourteenth-century work ascribed to Shlomo b. Abraham Paniel, imputed to Venus the negative dimension of erotic poetry, stating that “every matter of lust, and obscenity, and lewd poetry”134 is under its influence. If stars influence music, it is a plausible assumption that astral magic will have a musical connection. In the hermetic literature that was a source of astral magic approaches in the Middle Ages, such a connection is indeed exposed. The discussion below deals with magic that relies on astrology and attains its ends through music.

Drawing Down Spirituality In the thinking of many kabbalists, music was perceived as a magic technique that awakens the mystic’s powers and as a theurgic means for influencing the sefirot. Several scholars, among them Moshe Idel135 and Valerie Flint,136 emphasized in the late 1990s the association of music to magic in general and to astral magic—drawing down the divine emanation—in particular. The connection 130 According to Esther 8:15. 131 According to Psalms 150:3–4. 132 Aldabi, Shvilei Emunah, 18c. Note the erotic nuances at the end of the passage. 133 Sefer Chakhmuni, ed. David Castili (Firenze, 1881), 65. See above, 108–116. 134 Shlomo b. Abraham Paniel, Or Einayim (Cremona, 1556), 13a [Heb]. 135 See Moshe Idel, “The Magical and Theurgic Interpretations of Music in Jewish Sources from the Renaissance to Hasidism,” Yuval 4 (1982): 33–63 [Heb]; idem, Hasidism: Between Ecstasy and Magic. See also Jonathan Garb, Manifestations of Power in Jewish Mysticism: From Rabbinic Literature to Safedian Kabbalah ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2005), 136–138, 244 [Heb]. 136 Valerie I. J. Flint, The Rise of Magic in Early Medieval Europe (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1991), 139–140.

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between astrology and music was presented above. The astral magic model originally assumed the existence of a given emanation, rūhaniyyāt (spirituality), constantly flowing from the planets. To be drawn down, it requires preparation or a disposition. The preparation means creating an amulet,137 a piece of sympathetic magic that makes use of natural forces through reliance on similarity, meaning the visual or symbolic closeness between the symbolized (a planet or another source of emanation) and the symbol. The preparation is accompanied by techniques such as prayers, spells, and melodies. Enjoying the emanation by drawing it and bringing it down depends on detailed knowledge of its source’s characteristic features.138 The combination of astrology with Neoplatonic and hermetic worldviews shaped such approaches. The techniques of astral magic were also transferred to other sources of emanation, not necessarily astral (such as, for example, kabbalistic sefirot). Drawing down emanation and channeling it to the divine sefirot in an attempt to influence them and amend them is called theurgy, whereas channeling it to the earthly world and for the direct benefit of the user is called magic.139 Music was another one of the techniques used for drawing down the emanation from the stars. Even more, it was sometimes construed as having magical properties without any connection to astrology.140 Music had always served as a tool for the attainment of religious or utilitarian ends, but the astral magic model held a special place in the discussion about music’s magic implications. The work of Todros b. Yosef Halevi Abulafia, a thirteenth-century Spanish kabbalist, brought together diverse kabbalistic traditions (the Kabbalah of the Kohen Brothers, the Kabbalah of Gerona, and so forth). Todros noted that the Levites, both through their singing and “knowledge of the esoteric mystery . . . would draw down and transmit the emanation of the

137 On amulets with the inscription, “To the chief musician on strings” (Psalms 67:1), see, for example, Eli Davis and David A. Frenkel, The Hebrew Amulet: Biblical-Medical General ( Jerusalem: The Institute for Jewish Studies, 1995), 65 [Heb]. 138 See Dov Schwartz, Studies on Astral Magic in Medieval Jewish Thought, trans. David Louvish and Batya Stein (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2005); idem, Amulets. 139 Moshe Idel, “The Magical and Neoplatonic Interpretations of the Kabbalah in the Renaissance,” Jerusalem Studies on Jewish Thought 1, no. 4 (1982): 70–71 [Heb]. On the distinction between theurgy and magic regarding music, see idem, “Music in Sixteenth-Century Kabbalah in Northern Africa,” in Studies in Honour of Israel Adler, ed. Eliyahu Schleifer and Edwin Seroussi ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2002), Yuval 7 (2002): 154–170. 140 One example is the view of Nicholas Oresme, a fourteenth-century scholastic who was opposed to astrology but ascribed magic attributes to music. See Lynn E. Thorndike, A History of Magic and Experimental Science, vol. 3 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1934), 428.

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Holy Spirit at the time of worship and the Holy One, blessed be He, would rejoice in the songs and exaltations that the people of Israel sang and praised him with.”141 The theurgic principle of singing as a means of adding power to the celestial realm was formulated in Zohar literature,142 and Idel noted additional sources on the perception of music as theurgy.143 This connection between the astral magic model and music was widespread in Renaissance Italy, as prominent scholars of fifteenth-century Jewish culture have already noted. Marsilio Ficino (1433–1499), for example, described rituals that used Orphean hymns to channel the emanation of cosmic forces.144 Yohanan Allemanno, Pico della Mirandola’s admired teacher, noted music’s spiritual powers, which gave it the ability to influence the supernal world.145 R. Judah Messer Leon had already determined that music “is a useful means for those who seek ways to stimulate the divine effluence.”146 The astral magic model reawakened in the sixteenth century, in the Kabbalah of North Africa and Eretz Israel. Scholars have pointed to the appearance of this model in the writings of Joseph Alashkar, Shimon Lavi, Abraham Askaria, and Joseph ibn Sayyah,147 as well as its expansion to music.148 Shimon Lavi claimed that song and melody mark the mutual connection between humans and the sefirot. He elaborated on this, pointing out the meaning of the psalms’ titles in the Book of Psalms. When the word “psalm” preceded King

141 Todros b. Yosef Halevi Abulafia, Otsar ha-Kavod ha-Shalem (Warsaw, 1879), 8b. 142 Isaac Tishby, ed. The Wisdom of the Zohar: An Anthology of Texts, vol. 2 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989), 641. See also Dorit Cohen-Alloro, Magic and Sorcery in the Book of the Zohar (PhD diss., Hebrew University, Jerusalem, 1989) [Heb]. On the connection between angels and magic, see also Dorit Cohen-Alloro, The Secret of the Garment in the Zohar ( Jerusalem: The Institute for Jewish Studies, 1987) [Heb]. 143 See Moshe Idel, “Conceptualization of Music in Jewish Mysticism,” in Enchanting Powers: Music in World’s Religions, ed. Lawrence E. Sullivan (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1997), 169–172. 144 Richard Kieckhefer, Magic in the Middle Ages (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 147. 145 See Idel, “Kabbalah in Northern Africa,” 182–184. 146 Hava Tirosh-Rothschild, Between Worlds: The Life and Thought of David ben Judah Messer Leon (Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1991), 265. See also ibid., 49. 147 See Moshe Idel, “Introduction” to R. Yosef ben Moshe Alashkar, Tsofnat Pa`aneah ( Jerusalem: Misgav Yerushalayim, 1991), 43–46 [Heb]; Boaz Huss, Sockets of Fine Gold: The Kabbalah of R. Shimon ibn Lavi ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2000), 212–224 [Heb]; Yoni Garb, “The Kabbalah of Rabbi Joseph ibn Sayyah as a Source for the Understanding of Safedian Kabbalah,” Kabbalah 4 (1989): 289–299 [Heb]; idem, “Magic and Mysticism: Between North Africa and Erets Israel,” Pe`amim (2001): 121–123 [Heb]; Schwartz, Amulets, 128. 148 See Idel, “Kabbalah in Northern Africa.”

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David’s name (mizmor le-David), the sefirah of malkhut evoked his song and his melody. By contrast, when his name preceded “psalm” (le-David mizmor), it was David who initiated the drawing down of the emanation from his congenial sefirah of malkhut (“He stimulates [me`orer] first the sefirah of malkhut”) through song and melody.149 Several other sixteenth-century thinkers discussed the magic aspects of reciting the perek shirah (chapter of song). This is an ancient passage in the style of a beraita, which ascribes verses exalting God to all creatures in heaven and on earth. The entire creation praises its Creator. Perek shirah has already been discussed at length by the famous thinker Moses di Trani of Safed (known as Mabit, 1500–1580).150 Abraham Azulai (1570–1644), a kabbalist active in Morocco and Eretz Israel, clarified in his influential book Chesed le-Abraham that perek shirah exerts its influence as follows. Humans have angels (“ministers”) in charge of each one of them. The earthly singing awakes the singing of the angels, which triggers the process of drawing down the emanation that brings life to all living beings. He writes: And their [the angels’] song and melody rise and draw the light of En-Sof upon them and gives them life . . . and as the song of the angels rises to the Throne, and the praise of the Throne rises to the sefirot, and the exaltation of the sefirot rises to the En-Sof, blessed is He—all will rise and gather and will become one exaltation and one song, and a light bringing life to all will then flow down.151 . . . Therefore, one who recites perek shirah, and knows where every earthly creature is implied in it and recites those songs, draws down the emanation to all the creatures that depend on him.152

149 Shimon Lavi, Ketem Paz (Djerba, 1940, offset Jerusalem 1981), vol. 1, 164d (Zohar 67a). On other views of music in the writings of Ibn Lavi, see Idel, “Kabbalah in Northern Africa,” particularly 159. 150 A brief list of commentaries on perek shirah appears in Judah Eisenstein, Otsar Midrashim (New York, 1956), 523. See Malachi Beit-Arié, Perek Shirah [Chapter of song] (PhD diss., Hebrew University, Jerusalem, 1967); Idel, “Kabbalah in Northern Africa,” 160–161; Zvi Mark, Mysticism and Madness: The Religious Thought of Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav (London: Continuum, 2009), 101–123. 151 Chesed le-Abraham, ma`ayan 1, nahar 7, new ed. ( Jerusalem, 1997), 17 [Heb]. 152 Ibid., ma`ayan 4, nahar 3, 132.

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Perek shirah is thus perceived as a clear recipe for drawing down the emanation. Furthermore, the song itself is perceived as an independent stream of effluence, as symbolic representation coalesces with the real event. Abraham Azulai further clarified that the magical process gives rise to a theurgic process. With their song, humans can “renew the mating [zivug] in heaven,”153 and amend the supernal world. Furthermore, music could lead the path for the individual soul to ascend to celestial illiumination. This was a popular topic, connected to the famous sixteenth-century piyyut “Bar Yochai” by Shimon ibn Lavi.154 Inklings of the astral magic model in music are also found in neoHasidism, which developed the theurgic magical model of music.155 Following are several examples from the early beginnings of the movement. According to Levi Yitzhak of Berdichev (1740–1809), the Ba`al Shem Tov had pointed to the theurgic and magic effects of song,156 and Levi Yitzhak himself supported this approach.157 Yehoshua Heschel of Apt (1748–1825) wrote about the song of the Levites: “the music of the Levites is meant to mitigate harsh sentences [dinim] at their root and awaken compassion at all times for all worlds.”158 Yehuda Arieh of Gur stated that the sound of the shofar “brings new vitality [chayyut].”159 While many Hasidic leaders often expressed themselves in brief and sporadic homilies, the Habad admorim articulated some initial notions of Hasidism in learned systematic formulations.160 The astral magic view of music also assumed clear and methodical garb in Habad writings. In the following passage, R. Schneur Zalman expressed several ideas about music. The context for all of them is the astral magic model and its magical and theurgic implications:

153 Ibid., ma`ayan 1, nahar 7, 18. References to these passages appear in the daily prayer book of R. Jacob Emden, Beit Ya`akov (Lemberg: Beth Yaakov, 1904), 34. 154 See, for example, Moshe Hallamish, Kabbalistic Customs of Shabbat ( Jerusalem: Orhot, 2006), 301–302 [Heb]. 155 On magic in Hasidism, see Idel, Hasidism: Between Ecstasy and Magic. 156 Idel, “The Magical and Theurgic Interpretations of Music,” 60. 157 Ibid. See also Mazor, “The Power of the Nigun,” 33–34; Gershon Kitsis, “On Song: Studies on R. Levi Yitzhak of Berdichev,” Mabu`a 16 (1981): 103–115 [Heb]. 158 Yehoshua Heschel, Ohev Israel (Zhytomyr, 1863), Be-ha-Alotkha, 68b. 159 Yehuda Aryeh Leib of Gur, Sefat Emet al ha-Mo`adim, vol. 1 (Merkaz Shapira: Yeshivat Or Etzion, 2001), 22. See also ibid., 43. 160 See Dov Schwartz, Habad’s Thought: From Beginning to End (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2010) [Heb].

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To attain light and draw down from his great name in order to bring the sefirah of chokhmah into being, requires melody and song, meaning pleasure; that is, the clear will and joy of the Holy One, blessed be He, was that there should be worlds of atsilut (emanation), beri’ah (creation), yetsirah (creativity), and assiyah (action). The sefirah of chokhmah thereby came into being, “You are wise,”161 and the wisdom of the Torah was revealed. One aspect is a masculine word, and another is a feminine word [shirah], as it is said, “sang this song.”162 The drawing down and the revelation below thus occur through song and pleasure. And so too, the rise takes place through song and, as it is said, all who have a shir [could be rendered as both “collar” and “song”], come out in it and are led thereby,163 and every melody vibrates, rises, and draws because the song is revealed and drawn through the very essence of pleasure.164 Schneur Zalman of Lyady claimed that the entire divine array could be activated with song and music. To clarify the mechanism of drawing down emanation, he attached music to pleasure:165 sounds bring pleasure to the divine world, and emanation results when this pleasure exceeds its bounds. The descent of emanation, beyond its utilitarian advantages, grants vitality to all creatures: “because the gist of the creatures’ vitality is the aspect of pleasure that is bestowed upon them, which is the song that they constantly recite.”166 The astral magic approach deals with the deliberate drawing down of the emanation to the divine and material worlds.167 Schneur Zalman, therefore, noted two facts in his statement.

161 Tikkunei Zohar, preface, 17b. 162 According to Exodus 15:1; Numbers 21:17. 163 M. Shabbat 5:1. 164 Schneur Zalman, Ma’amarei Admor ha-Zaken, with glosses of R. Pinhas Raises of Shklav (Brooklyn: Kehot, 1984), 141 [Heb]. 165 Ta`anug (pleasure) in the writings of R. Schneur Zalman generally relates to the acquisition of wisdom, to eating, and to music. Both the revelation of the intellect and song take place in the sefirah of chokhmah. See, for example, the 1805 discussion in Schneur Zalman, Ma’amarei Admor ha-Zaken, vol. 1 (Brooklyn: Kehot, 1981), 151–157 [Heb]. 166 Ibid., 230. 167 See also Schneur Zalman, Ma’amarei Admor ha-Zaken 1806 (2) (Brooklyn: Kehot, 2004) (new edition with different pagination), 747. (A distinct theurgic aspect of music is mentioned there: “drawing thirteen midot of mercy on malkhut.”

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1) Concerning the divine world: God is guided by music and the sefirah of chokhmah comes into being through music and song. The mysterious roots of song are in the En-Sof, and their first exposure is in the sefirah of chokhmah. 2) Concerning the earthly world: the emanation is drawn down to the nether worlds and to the earthly world through music. According to Schneur Zalman’s description, the processes of emanation and effluence in the divine world operate properly and are taken as a given. Music characterizes, reflects, and records these processes, while also affecting them. The deliberate drawing down of emanation occurs according to the criteria of the “natural” order, that is, by means of music. Note that, in his many writings, Schneur Zalman presented other instrumental adaptations of music. For example: 1) song and music reflect the importance of joy in religious life;168 2) song and music mitigate harsh sentences.169 Much has been written about the importance and the sanctification of the nigun in the Hasidic world and about the philosophy that developed around it. The place of the nigun in the abstract theology and ethics developed in Hasidic thought was discussed above. The astral magic model does indeed play a special and significant role in this philosophy in all that concerns the perception of music as a tool for attaining religious perfection and enabling the divine emanation to enrich the universe. R. Nachman of Bratslav, for example, viewed dance and musical rhythm as magical tools that serve to neutralize evil and its dark forces by helping to draw it down and detach it from the divine world, which is the source of its vitality.170 R. Nachman commented on the verse “These are the ordinances that you shall set before them” (Exodus 21:1)—“when, Heaven

168 Schneur Zalman, Ma’amarei Admor ha-Zaken 1806 (1) (Brooklyn: Kehot, 2004), 123–124. On the sources of this perception, see, for example, Shochat, “On Joy,” 37 and 41; Hallamish, Kabbalistic Customs, 343. 169 Schneur Zalman, Ma’amarei Admor ha-Zaken 1806 (1), 124. 170 See Yehuda Liebes, “Ha-Tikkun ha-Kelali of R. Nachman of Bratslav and Its Sabbatean Links,” in Studies in Jewish Myth and Jewish Messianism, trans. Batya Stein (Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1993), 137–140; Green, Tormented Master, 142–143; Mark, Mysticism and Madness, 123 and index under “melody”; Noam Zadoff and Jonathan Meir, “The Empty Space, Sabbateanism and Its Melodies: Joseph Weiss’ Reading of Likkutei Moharan,” Kabbalah 15 (2007): 197–232 [Heb]; Stern, Song and Nigun, 62.

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forfend, there are ordinances against Israel, we will mitigate them through dance and the clapping of hands.”171 “The “ordinances” are interpreted as verdicts, meaning harsh sentences, hardship, and evil powers, to be abated through rhythmical dance. Habad philosophy stands out, however, in its theoretical and symbolic formulations of music’s advantage. The musical passion of the Hasidic movement will henceforth be anchored in a deep and systematic mystical and theoretical background and on a dynamic musical tradition of nigunim.172 The magical perception of music prepared its perception as the mirror of the universe. As magic emerges in several scholarly approaches as a preparation for the new science,173 the magic representation of music can be viewed as an anticipation of its representational and metaphorical perception.

The Sound of the Letters: (1) Concentration The position of Hebrew as the holy tongue in ancient mystical and kabbalistic literature has been widely discussed. The standing and powers of the holy tongue derive both from its being the language spoken by God when creating the world and from its being the language of the Torah. Generally, mystical literature rejects the rationalist view that language is a convention reflecting a social agreement. Given that the world was created in the holy tongue, its names and letters are imbued with magical powers, meaning powers of creation and influence over nature. God’s names also invest the holy tongue with

171 R. Nachman of Bratslav, Likkutei Moharan 10. On defensive magic, see below. 172 On the nigun in Habad, see, for example, Naftali Loewenthal, “Spirituality, Melody, and Modernity in Habad Hassidism,” in Proceedings of the First International Conference on Jewish Music, ed. Steve Stanton (London: City University Press, 1997), 62–78; Ellen Koskoff, Music in Lubavitcher Life (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2000). A compilation of statements on music by R. Menachem Mendel Schneerson, the Lubavitcher Rebbe, has recently been published. See Hekhal ha-Neginah: Melody and Song in the Teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe ( Jerusalem: Hekhal Menachem, 2008) [Heb]. 173 Frances A. Yates, Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1964); idem, The Rosicrucian Enlightenment (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1972); idem, The Occult Philosophy in the Elizabethan Age (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1983). Cf. Brian Vickers, “Frances Yates and the Writing of History,” Journal of Modern History 51 (1979): 315–316; Moshe Idel, “The Lost Books of Solomon,” Da`at 32–33 (1994): 235–246 [Heb]; Schwartz, Amulets, 393–399.

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enormous powers.174 Many kabbalists, therefore, dealt with combinations of letters in the holy tongue and ascribed magical powers to them.175 In Abraham Abulafia’s writings on ecstatic Kabbalah, music was perceived as a magic technique connected to the knowledge of names and letters. In Chayyei ha-Olam ha-Ba, Abulafia stated that the unique character of each letter was the central component of the prophetic experience. The letters were for him “the material of prophecy”—the revelation and its accompanying discourse take place through the letters, and the prophetic emanation solidifies in them. On the powers hidden in letters, Abulafia wrote as follows: Lo and behold, after the letters assume the shape of the ministering angels, who know the craft of song—and they are the Levites, who are in the shape of Elohim—they beget the voice of joy and merriment, teach with their voices about the future and about new and renewed ways on the hidden mystery of the prophet’s prophecy, and command the prophet to write parables and riddles and to act in strange and terrible ways that mislead crude human beings.176 Abulafia implies and openly includes several elements: the song of the angels, the song of the Levites, the voice the prophet hears, and combinations of letters. Mental concentration is required to use the combinations of letters and names, which have a distinctly magic aspect. In ecstatic Kabbalah, conjunctio with the Active Intellect is perceived as the supreme ideal. It requires the utmost mental concentration and the use of combinations. Rationalists, as noted, demanded mental concentration to attain prophecy.177 This demand also appears in various versions of ecstatic Kabbalah.178 Abulafia noted that the letters are the key to control mental powers and used the image of the kinor (lyre) to convey their action:

174 Zohar homilies on Song of Songs hint at the manifestation of God’s name in song. See, for example, Zohar Chadash, vol. 2, Megilot, 3a. 175 See Idel, Hasidism: Between Ecstasy and Magic, 156–160. 176 Printed by Aharon Jellinek in Ateret Tsvi: Sefer ha-Yovel le-Graets (Bratslav, 1888) and in a special publication Ginzei Chokhmat ha-Kabbalah (offset, Jerusalem, 1969), 24. See also Idel, The Mystical Experience. 177 Idel, “Hitbodedut as Concentration.” 178 See Moshe Idel, “‘Hitbodedut’ qua ‘Concentration’ in Ecstatic Kabbalah,” Da`at 14 (1985): 35–82 [Heb].

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You must first verify in your heart, in any way you can, that the letters are signs and hints that, in their essence, appear in the image of midot (ways of exegesis) and parables, and were created because they are instruments by which man is taught the way of understanding. To us, they are in the image of the strings of the kinor. Through the production of sound when it is plucked on the strings with the plectrum, with the shift of the plucking from string to string, and with the combination of the sound-enunciations that are produced by it, the soul of man wishing to be joyous is awakened to joy, happiness, and gladness. It receives from this its pleasure and great benefit to the soul.179 Music enables not only the soul’s awakening but also hitbodedut (solitude), which activates intellect. R. Elhanan b. Abraham of Askira (end of the thirteenth century) writes: “Music is between the spiritual and the material, in that it draws forth the intellect at the time of its imprisonment [in the body].”180 This approach is also conveyed in Sulam ha-Aliyah by Yehuda Albotini, among the prominent followers of ecstatic Kabbalah in the early sixteenth century. In Albotini’s thought, too, music is perceived as a technique helpful for concentration and solitude, that is, for the union of the mental powers. He writes: Furthermore, he should go on playing various kinds of musical instruments if he has them or if he knows how to play them. If not, he should play with his voice, through fine verses of praise and desire for Torah, to refine the animate soul that is coupled with the rational soul.181 Albotini advised solitude in a dark house, wearing white clean clothes, and particularly at night with candlelight.182

179 Sefer ha-Cheshek, cited in Moshe Idel, “Music and Prophetic Kabbalah,” Yuval 4 (1982): 152. 180 Ibid., 167. 181 Yehuda Albotini, Sulam ha-Aliyah, ed. Yosef E. Parush ( Jerusalem: Makhon She`arei Ziv, 1989), 73a [Heb]. 182 The night, as is well known, is often perceived by mystics as a time suited for song. See, for example, the testament of R. Shlomo b. Yitzhak, which appears in Israel Abrahams, ed., Hebrew Ethical Wills (Philadelphia: Jewish Publications Society, 1954), 224; Gershom Scholem, Elements of the Kabbalah and Its Symbolism ( Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1980), 142 [Heb]. See also Heschel, The Prophets.

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Music is part of the “preparations” for the next stage in the experiential mystical course, which involves using combinations of letters. This stage is also accompanied by rhythm and diction, as discussed below. Music, then, is perceived as an important auxiliary tool for the refinement of the soul that is vital for enabling the rational soul to concentrate and ultimately reach conjunctio with the Active Intellect—the ideal of ecstatic kabbalists. I turn now to a discussion of the connection between music and combinations of letters.

The Sound of the Letters: (2) Combinations Luria’s book Sha`ar Ruach ha-Kodesh, mentioned above, paves the way for the mystical and prophetic experience related to the enunciation of letters and, importantly, their sound. This work is largely based on linguistic combinations, and the discussion on the value of the voice does play a significant role in it. The connection of letter combinations to music is also emphasized in Sefer ha-Peli’ah, a Byzantine kabbalistic work that preceded Luria’s activity by two centuries. This book brings together several medieval conceptions of music, as well as the idea that the holy tongue is unique. The author of Sefer ha-Peli’ah compared the process of letter combination to hearing and music, quoting from Abraham Abulafia’s Gan Na`ul:183 I will now explain to you what is the combination [of letters]. Know, my son, that the combination resembles the hearing of the ears because the ear hears the sounds, and the sounds combine according to the form of the melody and the enunciation, as the kinor and the nevel attest,184 whose sounds are combined185 and, with the combination of sounds, the ears hear modulation and exchange [temurah] in the pangs of love. The strings, which are struck with the right and the left hand, vibrate,186 and the taste is sweet to the ears, and from the ears, the sound

183 Abraham Abulafia, Gan Na`ul ( Jerusalem, 1999), 29. 184 See Isaiah 5:12; Psalms 57:9, and others. The Palestinian Talmud contains the well-known legend about a lyre and a harp that hung above King David’s bed, and he would play on them be-chatsi ha-layla (in the middle of the night). PT Berakhot 1:1 (2d) and parallel versions. See also above, 17–20. 185 In Gan Na`ul, “whose voices join.” 186 Meaning that the harp strings vibrate according to the movement of both hands. And in Gan Na`ul, “vibrate [and] bring the sweet taste to the ears.”

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moves to the heart and from the heart to the spleen, renewing joy187 through the pleasure of the variation of melodies. This renewal is only possible through the form of the combinations, which works as follows: the player plucks the first string that parallels, for example, the first letter, and moves from there188 to the second, third, fourth, or fifth string,189 and from the fifth string the plucking is transposed, renewing tunes and melodies that reach the heart by way of the ears. The same is true when letters are combined, for the combination transposes the letters from the outside to the atarah, and the mysteries in their combinations gladden the heart, which then knows God, and joy is added to it, as it is said, “The Torah of the Lord is perfect, restoring the soul” (Psalms 19:8), meaning that when it is perfect, it restores the soul to joy; that is, “rejoicing the heart” (Psalms 19:9).190 Several facets of music are revealed in this passage, which merits special attention. Abulafia and the author of Sefer ha-Peliʼah described the association between the combinations of letters and music in three different ways, as follows: 1)  creativity: as the series of sounds create a melody, and the series of different sounds simultaneously create harmony, combinations of letters create words and even objects; 2)  mediation: as music influences us through various organic mediators (ear, heart, spleen), the divine spheres exert gradual influence through hypostases; 3)  emanation: as music causes pleasure and joy, which bring the terrestrial creatures closer to the supernal world, so letter combinations draw down the divine emanation down to the lowest sefirah, malkhut (atarah). Relying on Abulafia, the author of Sefer ha-Peli’ah expanded on the magical influences of music. In his view, a melody creates new melodies, just as the processes unfolding in the divine world lead to the creation of new objects, and 187 In Gan Na`ul, the word “meanwhile” is added here. 188 In Gan Na`ul, “or.” 189 Gan Na`ul ends here. 190 Sefer ha-Peli’ah (Przemysl, 1884), part 1, 75b–c.

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the greatest joy is, in his view, that of creativity. The anonymous author bases his view on the principle of the Torah’s absolute perfection, that is, on the possibility of reading its words in all the possible combinations. The Torah, therefore, abounds with mysteries (setarim), revealed by the different combinations. Music explains the order of the magical process and, to a large extent, also represents it. Sefer ha-Peliʼah represents music as an important part of magical practices. The magical conception of the letter combinations is added to the claim about music’s power to draw down the emanation of the spheres.191 According to the author of Sefer ha-Peliʼah, Torah is the source of great achievements through music.

Defensive Magic The discussion has so far focused largely on magical techniques meant to bring down emanation and spirituality and benefit its practitioners. At the same time, there existed other kinds of magic, which were intended to protect their practitioners from dark, evil powers, and music played a part in them as well. We find in the Bible that David played for Saul to remove the evil spirit from him. But we are left in the dark as to whether this was a magic ritual or the use of music’s soothing influence.192 Sefer ha-Razim, a magical treatise from the talmudic period that contains a great deal of material on defensive magic, begins and ends with song.193 Above, the blowing of the shofar was also associated with defensive magic, meant to dispel Satan’s evil intentions.194 Kabbalistic thought offers examples of defensive magic techniques that resort to music. One instance is the tradition stating that the Song of Miriam and her playing the tambourine (Exodus 15:20–21) was meant to dispel Lilith’s evil effluence. According to a homiletic tradition, Lilith is the she-devil that rules over four hundred and eighty camps (machanot). The image of the righteous woman (Miriam), who resorts to a magic ritual using song and melody,

191 See, for example, Sefer ha-Peli’ah, 72a, where the drawing down of emanation from the sefirah of chokhmah is connected to the cantillations. 192 See, for example, Jonathan Seidel, “Possession and Exorcism in the Magical Texts of the Cairo Genizah,” in Spirit Possession in Judaism: Cases and Contexts from the Middle Ages to the Present, ed. Matt Goldish (Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press, 2003), 77. 193 Mordechai Margaliot, ed., Sefer ha-Razim ( Jerusalem: n.p., 1967), 66, ln. 18 and 109, ln. 39. The place of music in ancient Jewish magic is still in need of comprehensive research. 194 See above, 23–24.

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is the perfect adversary for the demonic female figure. Shlomo, son of Nathan Net`a Shapira (first half of the seventeenth century), noted in his glosses on his father’s book that Miriam’s tambourine hints at Lilith.195 David Hazan (early eighteenth century) noted that Miriam took the tambourine “to defeat the four hundred and eighty camps196 of evil Lilith.”197 The influence of music, then, extended to protection from the dark forces of the demons’ kingdom. At this time, we find a further expression of defensive magic. Various kabbalists, as noted, had pointed out the theurgic and magical implications of the Levites’ song. For a long time, kabbalists located the source of song and music within the divine and explained the magic influence of the Levites’ song by their connection to God. Elazar Rokah (1665–1741), a halakhist and a kabbalist who significantly influenced the Hasidic movement, noted that “all song and melody come from God [he uses the word gevurah, which also signifies the sefirah of judgment] so that the Levites and the singers come from the dimension of judgment.”198 Between the lines, Rokah explained the Levites’ activity as defensive magic. The Levites’ song draws on justice and, therefore, can also mitigate it. This discussion presented several magical techniques related to music (astral magic, magic of names that relies on the special qualities of language, and defensive magic), which appear in philosophical and kabbalistic texts. The psychological, medical, and prophetic properties of music make it an important magical tool. The ascription of wondrous qualities to music leads directly to its harnessing for the control of nature, healing diseases, and other influences that are inexplicable in terms of the accepted scientific paradigm. Music has always played an important role in the long-standing tradition of Jewish magical practices.

195 Nathan Net`a b. Shlomo Shapira, Megaleh Amukot (Ferrara, 1691; offset, Jerusalem, 1981), 61c. 196 On the “camps” of the evil impulse, Samael and Lilith, see Zohar 2, Bo, 42a; ibid., Mishpatim 110b, and more. On the tradition of four hundred and eighty camps (480 equals the numerical value of the Hebrew letters creating the word tof [tambourine]), see also Raphael Emanuel Hai Rikki, Mishnat Hasidim, vol. 2 (Szilágysomlyó: K. Heimlich Press, 1909), 61b. Scholars have dealt with the midrashic tradition of Lilith, but have largely ignored the symbolism of the camps. On other traditions in this context found in Shapira’s writings, see Gershom Scholem, Studies in Kabbalah (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 1998), 214 [Heb]. 197 According to Exodus 15:20; Chozeh David on the Book of Psalms (Amsterdam, 1724), 240a. 198 Ma`aseh Rokah (Amsterdam, 1740), 24b.

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Summary The perception of music as a technique for spiritual perfection and for the attainment of noble and supreme goals took shape within Jewish conservative thought in the Middle Ages and in the modern period. Music was a useful instrument and a functional tool helpful at the very beginning of religious and rationalist pursuits. Music was, above all, a force shaping physical and mental states. Music brings serenity, concentration, joy, or distress. Later, it came to be perceived as a means for spiritual perfection or for drawing down the divine emanation and facilitating the way to higher perfections (prophecy, intellectual or mystical conjunction, and so forth). A historical perspective on Jewish thought reveals that the instrumental aspect of music was dominant. Many thinkers noted one or several advantages of music. One example is Yaakov Farissol (early fifteenth century), a Kuzari commentator who writes on II:64: This is the wisdom of music that, on its own, is “highly esteemed among mankind” because it is noble and important, being the worship of God. Given the human intellect’s dependence on matter, man experiences panic and forgetfulness. [Through music] man achieves virtues and strengthens good qualities. Melodies will also heal the sickness of the soul and prepare it to receive the holy spirit and, through melodies, some of the soul’s bad qualities will be defeated and will submit to the worship of God.199 This passage details many of music’s instrumental advantages. Often, these advantages were seen as deriving from one another. Music’s importance for the proper functioning of the body and the soul helps to prepare them for prophecy and assists in worship. In addition, music has power to manipulate nature, providing utilitarian advantages. In sum, music perfects the material state of the individual, which facilitates worship. Hence, music itself was seen as worship. Even though it is only a tool, it became an essential theological factor. We can therefore expect that music’s wondrous powers will take it beyond the functional level. Indeed, music’s extraordinary achievements went beyond

199 Farissol, Beit Ya`akov, Berlin MS 124, 39b.

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preparation and disposition. The perception of music as a preparation for prophecy meant that it was associated with the highest ranks of human perfection. Music’s powers in the magical and psychological realm showed it to be a representation of processes unfolding at the highest levels of the universe and the divinity. The parallel between the divine and cosmic emanation, and the chain of sounds and melodies, brought music closer to ontology and to an understanding of the natural order. In this sense, the magical perception of music paved the way for an entirely new stage of culture, and possibly provided a foundation for a symbolic and substantive conception of music, to be discussed in the next chapter.

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Toward Music as an Independent Field: Representation, Language, Dialogue The main focus in the previous chapters was on approaches that view music as a tool. Nigun, song, and melody have functioned as means of varying importance for attaining religious and spiritual ends (musical theory as a stage in scientific progress, the song of the Levites, reaching communion, and so forth). The discussion will not be complete, however, without paying attention to conceptual and developmental approaches that set the ground for a perception of music as independently significant. These approaches, which deal with music as representation and as metaphor, have ancient roots but they reached new heights in Jewish thought only in the last century. The view of music as an independent aesthetic experience is a relatively late cultural development and hardly features in the tradition of religious Jewish thought before modernity. This chapter will focus mainly on the approach that views music as conveying and representing cosmic orders, both divine and human, rather than as helping to fulfill concrete religious needs. In this outlook, music—and particularly its theoretical dimension—is a representation of the harmonious universe and its natural and human orders. Although an instrumental aspect is still present here—in the sense that music is symbolically “enlisted” to clarify both the material and spiritual orders—this outlook is a step toward the perception of music as a language of symbols. In brief, music is perceived as a harmonious representative realm that, by virtue of its inner regularity and rhythms, can reflect the entire universe. Various ways of ascribing this type of representative value to music in Jewish thought are discussed below. Following are the topics of discussion.

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1) Cosmic order. Music conveys the sublime order in these realms: a)  the natural order of the universe as a harmonious tapestry; b)  the historical and (messianic) ahistorical order. 2)  Theosophic order. According to this approach, which appeared in Jewish mysticism, music conveys the inner order within the divine realm (sefirot, divine worlds, and so forth). 3)  Human and existential order. This approach emerged in Jewish thought in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries and states that music reflects the following realms: a)  the aesthetic and poetic experience; b)  dialogical intersubjective communication; c)  the foundations of concrete existence. 4)  Theological order. In the wake of the developments in the perception of music over centuries of thought, comprehensive theological approaches finally emerged at the end of the twentieth century that interpret the canonic sources as founded on music.

Cosmic Representation The view of music in antiquity, the Middle Ages, and the Renaissance as a “heavenly art” and as the “harmony of the universe” is pervasive in the writings of many thinkers. This approach relied on Pythagoras’ discovery of harmony, a theme of many legends in antiquity.1 This discovery tied quantity (the distance between the neck of the instrument and the location of the fingers pressuring the strings) to quality (the pitch of the sound and the quality of the harmony). Music thereby became an important key to understanding the natural order and its processes.2 In religious views, this approach assumed various formulations, as follows: 1) the source of music: music was created by divine entities; 2) the creation process: music is an essential principle of divine creation;

1 2

S. Sambursky, The Physical World of the Greeks, trans. M. B. Dagut (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1956). G. E. R. Lloyd, Early Greek Science: Thales to Aristotle (London: Chatto and Windus, 1982), 25–26, 30–31. On the implications during the Renaissance, see David Summers, The Judgment of Sense: Renaissance Naturalism and the Rise of Aesthetics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), 52–53.

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3)  world order: music symbolizes mathematical and cosmic principles (regularity and so forth);3 4)  human order: music also reflects human existence, since humans themselves reflect cosmic principles.4 To reiterate: the meaning of music in this context focuses mainly on its theoretical aspect—musical theory, with its beats, intervals, harmony, and so forth, is the key for understanding the various orders. Performance is not usually viewed as an expression of the earthly and divine orders. My discussion below will track several manifestations of a view of music as the mirror of the world and as the harmony of the entire universe.

Representation of the Universe and Its Order: Retraction As noted above, the Neopythagorean approach claims that the motion of the spheres is accompanied by celestial music.5 Philosophical sources at times ascribed this view to Hermes.6 Ptolemy wrote a special text about the harmony of the universe as conveyed in the spheres in particular, but also in the soul.7

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4

5 6

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See Phillipe Vendrix, ed., Music and Mathematics in Late Medieval and Early Modern Europe (Turnhout: Brepols, 2008). On the perception of music as an expression of order and regularity and on its implications for the concept of beauty, see Ruth Lorand, Philosophical Reflection of Beauty (Haifa: University of Haifa Press, 2007), 30 [Heb]. See also ibid., ch. 6. The microcosm principle implies that the human individual is a small world, meaning that the various layers making up humans reflect the various levels of the universe, hence the correspondence between humans and the cosmos. On the microcosm in Muslim and Jewish thought, see, for example, Alexander Altmann, Studies in Religious Philosophy and Mysticism (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1969), 1–40; Masataka Takeshita, Ibn Arabī’s Theory of the Perfect Man and Its Place in the History of Islamic Thought (Tokyo: Institute for the Study of Languages and Cultures of Asia and Africa, 1987), 74–108. In the writings of Philo and in those of Jewish mystics, we find the comparison of the body to a violin. See Moshe Idel, The Mystical Experience in Abraham Abulafia, trans. Jonathan Chipman (Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1988), 56–57; Yehuda Liebes, Ars Poetica in Sefer Yetsirah (Tel Aviv: Schocken, 2000), 122 [Heb]. See 59–60. Hermes Trismegistus, whose name has been linked to wisdom and magic. See Nicholas Oresme, Tractatus de commensurabilitate vel incommensurabilitate motuum celi, ed. Edward Grant, vol. 3 (Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press, 1971), 223–228. In Jewish sources, the name of Hermes is linked to that of Hanoch. See Liba Chaia Taub, Ptolemy’s Universe: The Natural Philosophical and Ethical Foundations of Ptolemy’s Astronomy (Chicago and LaSalle, IL: Open Court, 1993), 125–128.

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Al Kindi formulated this view in his writings.8 The Ikhwān al-Safa᾿ (Brethren of Purity) wrote in their encyclopedia: “The movements of the spheres and heavenly bodies produce rhythms and melodies that are sweet and rejoice the souls of their inhabitants.”9 The angels’ song also reflects the cosmic and harmonious dimension of singing, an issue considered above.10 These approaches follow directly from various aspects of the perception of music as a heavenly art. In the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, many thinkers perceived celestial music, the music of the universe, as the most important and valued branch of music.11 Music became a mirror of sympathy, connection, and closeness between humans and the universe, between heaven and earth, and between dormant nature and the vital forces pulsating within it. In this theory of universal connection, playing on the strings of one instrument triggers Shlomo ibn Gabirol’s Mekor Chayyim, where the presence of form in matter is described as “the clinging of light to air and as the clinging of the melody, meaning movement, to the voice, each one forever clinging to its source.”12 In the science of antiquity and the Middle Ages, the physical object is the embodiment of form in matter. The form grants the object its uniqueness and, therefore, is compared to sounds that grant the voice its character. In late medieval and early Renaissance Jewish thought, some thinkers placed particular emphasis on music as reflecting cosmic harmony. Openness to Neoplatonic mysticism and a relative softening of the extreme rationalism that characterized Jewish thought in contemporaneous Spain, Provence, and Italy, left their mark here as well. In the fifteenth century, Yitzhak Arama, a significant figure in Jewish thought wrote the sermon where he discussed music, called Nigun Olam. A kind of appendix to Part Twelve of his book Akedat Yitshak,13

8 9 10 11 12 13

G. Endress, “Mathematics and Philosophy in Medieval Islam,” in The Enterprise of Science in Islam: New Perspectives, ed. Jan P. Hogendijk and Abdelhamid I. Sabra (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2003), 128. Amnon Shiloah, The Epistle on Music of the Ikhwan al-Safa (Bagdad, 10th Century) (Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University Press, 1978), 37. See 151–152. See, for example, Warren Dwight Allen, Philosophies of Music History: A Study of General Histories of Music 1600–1960 (New York: Dover, 1962), 29; Edgar Wind, Pagan Mysteries in the Renaissance (London: Faber and Faber, 1958), 46–47. Shlomo ibn Gabirol, Sefer Mekor Chayyim, ed. Yaakov Blubstein and Abraham Tsifroni (Tel Aviv: Machbarot le-Sifrut, 1964), 498–499 [Heb]. The gist of the ideas appears in the analysis of Moshe Idel, “The Magical and Theurgic Interpretations of Music in Jewish Sources from the Renaissance to Hasidism,” Yuval 4 (1982): 35–37 [Heb].

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this sermon affected many later thinkers14 and has been quoted extensively.15 Arama’s sermon relies entirely on the association between the music and the motif of the microcosm. He illustrated this idea through the theory of acoustic resonance, as described above. Part Twelve of Akedat Yitshak is based on the biblical chapters about Noah and relates to the flood. In this context, Arama put forward the moral aspect of the microcosm idea: the moral behavior of the microcosm, meaning the individual, affects the macrocosm, meaning the cosmos. If humans act wickedly, the parallel orders of the universe collapse, and the result is the flood. Arama further explained that perfect individuals embody cosmic harmony with their existence, and derived a moral principle from this approach: the righteous preserve the musical-cosmic order while the wicked subvert it. Therefore, he called the righteous “skillful in playing.”16 Judah Moscato’s decision to place his famous sermon on the importance of music at the opening of his collection is also significant.17 Moscato himself relied on it occasionally in his commentary on The Kuzari, as shown below. The sermon, Higayon be-Khinor [The melody of the lyre], is named after the kinor (lyre) of King David. Moscato presents there the intervals and consonances as mirroring the whole of existence in both its material and spiritual dimensions. He speaks of “the substance of the soul, its origin and beginning18 [that] lies in

14 Idel brought several examples in his articles. See Idel, “Interpretation.” The experiment appears in early Hasidism in, for example, the speeches of Dov Ber, the Maggid of Mezeritch. See his Or Torah (Brooklyn, NY: Karnei Hod Torah, 1980), 85a–b [Heb]; Likkutim Yekarim ( Jerusalem, 1974), 67b [Heb]. 15 See, for example, Moshe Idel, “Music in the Sixteenth-Century Kabbalah in Northern Africa,” in Studies in Honour of Israel Adler, ed. Eliyahu Schleifer and Edwin Seroussi ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2002), Yuval 7 (2002): 165. 16 “And of the perfect man, the man of valor and skilful in playing (according to I Samuel 16:18), it will be said that the righteous is established for ever (according to Proverbs 10:25) to preserve law and order on all these matters as they are, so disarray among the wicked will upset the order of this reality and distress it.” Israel Adler, RISM: Hebrew Writings concerning Music in Manuscripts and Printed Books: From Geonic Times Up to 1800 (Munich: G. Henle, 1975), 94. 17 On Moscato’s preaching, see Yosef Dan, “The Tefilah u-Dim´ah Sermon of R. Judah Moscato,” Sinai 76 (1975): 209–232 [Heb]; Moshe Idel, “Judah Moscato: A Late Renaissance Jewish Preacher,” in Preachers of the Italian Ghetto, ed. David B. Ruderman (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1992), 41–66. Both rabbinic writers and scholars— justifiably—liked this sermon. See, for example, Simon Jacob Glicksberg, The Jewish Sermon (Tel Aviv: n.p., 1940), 168–170 [Heb]; Isaac E. Barzilay, Between Reason and Faith: Anti-Rationalism in Italian Jewish Thought 1250–1650 (The Hague: Mouton, 1967), 168. 18 “Beginning” (as a translation of hatchalah) refers here to a principle or a foundation regulating the activity of the soul.

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the soul itself, [is] ordered in every way, and preserved in harmonic ratios”).19 I will return to this sermon below. Relying on a Pythagorean and Platonic perspective, Moscato defended the music of the spheres theory, though not unequivocally. In his commentary on The Kuzari, he writes about the motion of the spheres as follows: Their various movements occur in such wondrous order that it came to be called music, and some of the philosophers hold that sweet sounds will emerge from their movement (as I mentioned . . . in the sermon called Higayon be-Khinor). This order will then be brought down to the material world and various beings will emerge through its power, culminating in the diversity that beautifies this reality in all its manifestations and endows it with glory and splendor.20 Judah Abravanel (Leone Ebreo, 1460–c. 1530) also made favorable references to the music of the spheres, although he cautiously presented this theory in Pythagoras’ name and not necessarily as absolute truth.21 Both Moscato and Judah Abravanel were wary of siding with Pythagorean theory since Maimonides had entirely rejected it as a mistake that many sages had incurred.22 Although Maimonides’ unsurpassed authority deterred many sages from contesting his approach directly, resonating in the style of Moscato and Abravanel is a sense of empathy with Pythagoras’ theory. Moreover, some kabbalists did adopt the Pythagorean principle of the “music of the spheres,” either literally or as an expression of a mythical event.23

19 Judah Moscato, Sermons, vol. 1, trans. Gianfranco Miletto and Giuseppe Veltri (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 80. 20 Judah Moscato, The Kuzari with the Kol Yehuda commentary (Warsaw, 1880), part 4, 43a–b [Heb]. 21 Leone Ebreo, Dialogues of Love, trans. Cosmos Damian Bacich and Rosella Pescatori (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2009), 104–105. 22 See above, 186–187. 23 On the Zohar, see Idel, “Music in the Sixteenth-Century Kabbalah,” 158. On Shimon ibn Lavi, see ibid., 163. See also Meir ibn Gabbai, Sefer Avodat ha-Kodesh ( Jerusalem, 1992), 237 [Heb]. Jonathan Eybeschutz wrote: “And that is the sound of the spheres, and even Greek sages admit this, quoting Pythagoras who said that, when the air is clear and the earth is quiet, he hears the sound of the spheres moving, but all still depends on the music [lit. singing]” (Ya`arot Devash, vol. 1, new ed. [ Jerusalem, 1984], sermon 4, 97). This statement should perhaps be seen as part of the attempt to grapple with the new science. See David B. Ruderman, Jewish Thought and Scientific Discovery in Early Modern Europe (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1995), 271–272.

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The topic of celestial music occupied thinkers in various locations in the Jewish diaspora. After 1450, an exchange of views on the sounds of the spheres was recorded between two famous Byzantine sages, Michal b. Shabtai Hacohen Balbo and Yedidia b. Yosef Rakh of Rhodes.24 Yehuda b. Elazar, a midseventeenth-century Persian thinker, even ascribed the perception of celestial music to the Peripatetics,25 the disciples of Aristotle, who was strongly opposed to this notion. Either way, music represents the cosmic order. The intervals and the dynamic of music turned it into a reflection of cosmic laws.

Divine Representation Another issue in Moscato’s sermon merits special attention because of its enormous theological implications. The sermon radicalized the representational view of music to the point of perceiving and defining God as a musical entity. In this view, music represents the divine attributes and, sometimes, divine knowledge. This approach rests on the immanent perception of the divinity, that is, on its actual presence in the cosmos. Moscato writes: From His intrinsic excellence we have reason to believe the existence of the pitches of music in Him, may He be blessed, in perfect unity, for all forms will be united in Him because of His being the Law26 for all beings among creatures above and below.27 Moscato adopted the approach developed in medieval thought, claiming that the perfect existence of objects is found within divine knowledge. In other words, the perfect form of objects, meaning their essence, exists within divine knowledge, and earthly forms derive from these perfect ones. In this

24 This exchange was preserved in Vatican Ms. 105. 25 Yehuda b. Elazar, Duties of Judah, ed. Amnon Netser ( Jerusalem: Yad Yizhak Ben-Zvi, 1995), 366 [Heb]. R. Yehuda explained that we do not hear the music of the spheres because of our vast distance from them, and that the music derives from the connection between the sphere’s movement and its soul (ibid., 365). 26 “The Hebrew nimus from the Greek nomos (‘law’).” 27 Moscato, Sermons, vol. 1, 75. See also Idel, “Interpretation,” 49–51.

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formulation, the divine presence in objects is undeniable. Moscato, then, drew a simple inference: 1) the existent forms of objects are based on music (harmony); 2) divine knowledge contains all the forms of the objects.28 Therefore, 3) the existence of the divinity also rests on music.29 Founding the intra-divine world on music is a rather daring move, but should be seen against the background of the sermon’s structure and the flow of its ideas. Following, then, is an analysis of Higayon be-Khinor, the first sermon in Moscato’s collection. This sermon presents a diagram of the cosmic order according to musical proportions (arakhim). In the first stage, the elements are ordered according to the “natural place” theory in Aristotelian physics. Every element has a natural place of its own, which it aspires to reach if detached from it. The places are arrayed in a set relationship, meaning a musical order (“harmonic ratio”).30 In the second stage, animals are formed in proportional orders and their lives are determined according to the seasons of the year, which are also based on ratios and proportions. In the third stage, the heavenly elements are arranged according to a harmonic ratio, emitting sounds as they move. Only the pure people will succeed in hearing the music of the sphere. In the fourth stage, the souls of the spheres are predicated on their number and the numerical order, until they contain “a harmonic ratio and music so great as to cause wonder.”31 In the fifth stage, divine reality is founded on music, as shown above. Moscato went even further and noted that the divine name hints at a musical structure. In the sixth stage, humans, as mirrors of the cosmos, reflect musical proportions. Go then, my friend [lit. my uncle, according to Song of Songs 7:12], let us go out to examine man, and you will find, if you seek [to know] him, that we cannot overlook the perfection of his constitution in number, in well-ordered weight, in his body,

28 On this approach, see Dov Schwartz, Contradiction and Concealment in Medieval Jewish Thought (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2001), 153–158 [Heb]. 29 On the influence of this approach on the literature on sermons, see Dov Schwartz, “On the Study of Jewish Homiletics,” Pe`amim 59 (1994): 149–153 [Heb]. 30 Moscato, Sermons, vol. 1, 74. 31 Ibid.

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and in his soul constructed from pleasant and ordered harmonies, as if to exemplify the soul of the sphere that we mentioned according to Plato and [to confirm] the words of the ancient philosopher Pythagoras.32 The perception of God as music, then, is context-bound and reflects the height of cosmic harmony. Moscato presents the following structure:

Furthermore, music denotes not only proportions but also processes. Music is “found in His essence (may He be blessed),”33 and “He apportioned of it to holy creatures [thus in Ezekiel 1:5] and the angels,” that is, the separate intellects. God, then, apportioned from it “to the ninth and highest [all-encompassing] sphere” and from there to the rest of the spheres. In other words, the cosmic emanation processes are also reflected by music. The universe is built on the elements of music and functions according to them. The perception of God as a musical totality is the culmination of the approach that establishes the universe and its activity on music. Is this a musical theology that was ahead of its time? Not necessarily. Musical representation does unquestionably reach great heights in Moscato’s sermon, but he also endorsed more conventional views. He clarified that instrumental aspects of music derive from its essential dimension, meaning that since music is a mirror of the material and psychological world, it affects humans, and that is the source of its distinctive therapeutic and religious value. 32 Ibid., 79. 33 Ibid., 114.

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Moscato explained that the success of healing through music attests to its correspondence with the structure of the soul.34 Furthermore, his homiletic context is an aggadic-talmudic saying about King David’s lyre that opens the sermon and is explained in its course. As an explanation of the aggadah, Moscato relies on a longstanding allegorical rationalist interpretation, where music symbolizes ethical and intellectual perfections. The lyre hints at “David’s body and soul built in harmonic ratios and relations.”35 But the deep level of meaning in the sermon is linked to the “psychic lyre,” meaning the soul, the intellect, and, respectively, ethical and intellectual perfection. The sermon, according to Moscato, is meant “to indicate the pure and ordered soul, in its essence, of David, who himself made an effort to perfect it, at all costs, by [simulating] the ratios of the superior measurements and true ideas in number, weight, and perfect composition.”36 Music’s supreme value, therefore, is its theoretical aspect, which represents the cosmic order. Driven by his inner conviction about the universal value of music, in his sermon and in his commentary on The Kuzari (IV:25) Moscato tried to find a shared linguistic basis for musical terms. He derived the term muzikah (music) from mizug (merger) of tones and melodies, and also found an etymological affinity between the name Moses (who is called Musa in Arabic) and music.37 The second of Moscato’s sermons deals with the Shir ha-Ma`aloth [Songs of ascents] and, as such, is also connected to music. Here, however, Moscato does not return to the lively and animated discussion about music that was part of the first sermon. Even when dealing with topics related to ratios and proportions, as in the sermon about the microcosm, he does not address musical aspects. Seemingly, at the opening of his sermons Moscato presented a high-level cosmological key for understanding the universe as a whole and then moved on to lower aspects. Music still fulfills a very important role in his thought.

Nigun and Being The perception of music as a “heavenly art” and as representing the divine being became an alternative to the medieval perception of music as a tool. During the Renaissance, particularly in Italy, this view reached new heights, as attested by

34 Ibid. 35 Ibid., 90. 36 Ibid., 91. 37 Ibid., 96.

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Moscato’s discussion and by the many halakhic responses of contemporaneous Italian sages dealing with music. This approach reawakened in Hasidism, especially in the writings of R. Nachman of Bratslav, where the nigun is perceived as a pneumatic element that reflects the vital spirit of creation.38 I conclude with two interesting expressions of the cosmic representation approach. Menashe Grossberg, a rabbi and editor of medieval texts active in the early twentieth century, added a note to an ancient text he published: In a printed book, I saw evidence attesting that mountains had been found emitting the sound of a nigun pleasant to the listener and, using a tube instrument, the many nigunim emitted by these mountains could be heard from far away. And if this is true, how fitting it is that it is written, “let the hills sing for joy together” (Psalms 98:8).39 The musical echo resonating in the mountains, absorbed and intensified through an instrument with an expanding tube, is a remnant of the cosmic perception of music that found its way into a text written at the beginning of the last century. R. Moshe Avigdor Amiel (1882–1946) was a religious-Zionist activist and preacher. In a sermon he wrote about the shofar, “the divine music,” he claimed that teki`ot represent the seasons of the year, personal moods, and the history of the world. In his view, a teki`ah reflects a happy mood whereas the shevarim denote a mood of sadness. The traditional order of blowing the shofar opens and closes with a teki`ah, and the shevarim are between two teki`ot. Rav Amiel wrote, because that is the order from the six days of the creation until the present, “While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, shall not cease” (Genesis 8:22). And after the summer, the heat and the 38 See Zvi Mark, “Silence and Melody in Empty Space in the Thought of R. Nachman of Bratslav,” Kabbalah 7 (2002): 184 [Heb]; idem, Mysticism and Madness: The Religious Thought of Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav (London: Continuum; and Jerusalem: Shalom Hartman Institute, 2009), index, under “melody”; Chani Haran Smith, Tuning the Soul: Music as a Spiritual Process in the Teachings of Rabbi Naḥman of Bratslav (Leiden: Brill, 2010); Adaya Hadar, The Heart’s Note (Ramat Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2021) [Heb]. 39 Sefer Yetsirah with commentary by Abusahel Donash b. Tamim, published by Menashe Grossberg of Trestiny (London, 1902), 40, note 29 [Heb]. See commentators on Isaiah 13:4.

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day, come the winter, the cold and the night, and then again. And just as after joy comes sorrow, so after distress and mourning usually comes solace, and after all is over, salvation at times comes as the light of dawn after the darkness of the night. We can thus sum up the general order of the world briefly and clearly.40 Music, meaning the different sounds and rhythm of blowing the shofar, thus reflects the order of the world, from the cosmic level down to the historical one.

From Cosmos to History The focus has so far been on the cosmic representation of music. At times, however, music also represented the processes unfolding within history and particularly its end, that is, the messianic era. In Jewish thought, a transition occurred in understanding the application of musical harmony from a given set of cosmic laws to history as a dynamic process of development and improvement. Music became the representation of historical development, both national and messianic. Various approaches reflecting the transition from the representation of the static and permanent to the representation of the process are discussed below.

Past and Future Redemption is perceived as “the time of singing” (Song of Songs 2:12). Many midrashim tied the “time of singing” to future redemption and also to the song of the Levites.41 Redemption, as an event that occurs in history or as the end of history, was characterized by singing.42 One paradigm of the messianic historical representation of music is the aggadah about the lyre in the Temple and the lyre to be used in future eras (messianic days and the resurrection of the dead or the world to come). R. Todros Abulafia mentioned a Tosefta statement claiming that the seven-chord lyre from Temple times will have eight strings in messianic days and ten “in the world to come.”43 As usual for him, R. Todros interpreted this aggadah in distinctly kabbalistic terms: 40 Moshe Avigdor Amiel, Hegyonot el Ami, vol. 2 ( Jerusalem, 1936), 28 [Heb]. 41 “It was the time of the Levites to recite songs and psalms before me” (Exodus Rabba 15:1). 42 Hillel Rivlin of Shklov, for example, consistently referred to redemption as “the time of singing.” See Hillel Rivlin, Sefer Kol ha-Tor, ed. Yosef Rivlin ( Jerusalem: Kol ha-Tor, 1994), 19, 113. 43 See Tosefta Arakhin 2:7; BT Arakhin 13b. See also above, 17.

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What this44 midrash is meant to show is that, at the time of the Temple, there were seven strings for seven joyous occasions45 that were tied46 to one another, and there was no ejection of the holy spirit. In the days of the messiah, blessings and honor will be added from the eighth emanation, which is where the spirit of the messiah comes from, as hinted in the Genesis portion.47 In the days to come, they are ten, against the ten [commandments] at the giving of the Torah from the bottom to the top.48 The lyre will have eight strings,49 and in the days to come there will be a new single world, all of it Shabbat,50 and its song a new song,51 because all ten will be one. One emanation unites52 and [they] join tightly53 to one another, as in the six days of creation, and the lyre will then have ten strings, and I am not allowed to reveal more.54 According to R. Todros’ interpretation, the lyre strings describe a flow of time or of eras that appear as three historical and ahistorical stages, as follows: Period First and second Temple era Days of the messiah Days to come55

Theosophical state Union of the seven sefirot (chesed to malkhut) Addition from the eighth sefirah (binah) to malkhut Union of the ten sefirot as in the six days of creation

Metaphor Seven strings Adding an eighth string Ten strings

44 Todros seemingly used the parallel versions in Tanchuma Be-ha-Alotkha 7; Tanchuma, Buber ed., ad locum 12; Midrash on Psalms, Buber ed., 81, 3, and more. 45 Reference to the paths of emanation through the sefirot. 46 In the 1808 print edition, “tied and wedged.” 47 According to Sha`ar ha-Razim, another work of Todros, he is clearly hinting here to Genesis Rabba, which ties the messiah to the land of the living. See Todros b. Yosef Abulafia, Sha`ar ha-Razim, ed. Michal Kushnir Oron ( Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1989), 64, ln. 423 and 83, ln. 780. 48 In the 1808 print edition, the words “to the top” are missing. 49 In the 1808 print edition, the words “eight strings” are missing, though that is clearly the right version because in the time to come there will be ten strings. 50 According to M. Tamid 7:4; BT Rosh ha-Shanah 31a; BT Sanhedrin 97a, and more. 51 According to Isaiah 42:10; Psalms 33:3, and more. 52 In the 1808 print edition, mit’ached (joins together). 53 In the 1808 print edition, devukim ve-hadukim (wedged and tied). 54 Todros ben Yosef Halevi Abulafia, Otsar ha-Kavod ha-Shalem (Warsaw, 1879), 8b. This passage is slightly inaccurate and, therefore, I compared it to the printed version of 1808.

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The growing number of the lyre strings symbolizes the linear development of the world toward absolute goodness. This model ignores the period of Jewish exile and sees a continuity of increasingly growing perfections from the Temple era to the final time that will come after the messianic events. R. Todros saw this historical and messianic interpretation as a profound mystery. R. Todros’ symbolic interpretation set parameters for the musical representation of the messianic era. R. Judah Loew (Maharal) of Prague (c. 1520– 1609), who dealt at length with the messianic issue,55 and, as was his custom, built his case around talmudic aggadot, offered a theoretical formulation of this approach. According to Maharal, song and melody characterize both the state of perfection (“it is the way of perfection to sing and make music”) and joy. The rabbis, therefore, represented the time of redemption using lyrical and musical motifs. Maharal tended to focus on the meanings of specific numbers, so he gave another interpretation to the numbers of the lyre’s strings. The present world is symbolized by seven strings because the number seven represents the order and regularity of nature. The messianic era is symbolized by eight strings, because this period conveys a kind of perfection that does not exist in the present. Maharal presented two alternatives for the nature and essence of the messianic era: In the days of the messiah, [the lyre will have] eight strings, because perfection in the days of the messiah will be reflected in nature. And even for the one who said (BT Berakhot 34b) that the sole difference between this world and the days of the messiah is delivery from bondage to foreign kingdoms,56 perfection will still reach a higher rank than in this world, and that is why the lyre in the days of the messiah has eight strings.57 Maharal, then, avoided a decision on the miracles and wonders of the messianic era. Be it according to the apocalyptic view that foresees changes in the natural order during the messianic era, or according to the naturalistic view that foresees only social and political changes, the world in the days of the messiah will be more perfect than the present one. And the last stage, according to Maharal,

55 See Benjamin Gross, L’éternité d’Israël: La doctrine messianique de l’exil et de la rédemption du Maharal de Prague (1512–1609) (Strasbourg: n.p., 1968). 56 BT Berakhot 34b; BT Sanhedrin 99a. 57 R. Judah Loew, Netsach Israel ( Jerusalem, 1972), 102–103 [Heb]. Maharal reformulates this interpretation in ch. 32.

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is still apocalyptic. Ultimately, the material aspect of reality will disappear altogether, as symbolized by the ten-chord lyre. The number ten conveys absolute perfection. Maharal’s approach, as noted, may be viewed as a theoretical formulation of the kabbalistic symbolic interpretation. The motif of nigun as perfection and joy is the depiction, on the one hand, of the “sacred” history—the Temple period—and on the other, of the end of history and the messianic era. The increasing number of lyre strings conveys an idea of historical development from the past to the future. For R. Nachman of Bratslav, the nigun reflects both faith and the rise of heretical thoughts. He explains that song and nigun convey faith and knowledge. Music, particularly when composed and performed by the tsadik, can bring tikkun olam as well as individual perfection of the inner world. R. Nachman referred to the messianic era and his own essential role within it using the images of song and nigun: “I will sing a song at the end of days that will be the world to come of all the tsadikim and the Hasidim.”58 He also claimed that ha-tikkun ha-kelali ritual, which he introduced, includes ten types of nigun. The tikkun, which is based on ten chapters of Psalms, was chosen as representing the ten varieties of song mentioned in the Book of Psalms.59 The nigun, then, will carry everyone with it and thus bring about cosmic redemption. R. Nachman’s view of exile, redemption, and music affected Jewish thought. Among others, it influenced R. Mordechai Abadi, who dedicated a long discussion to the advantages of music, where he cited R. Nachman’s Sefer ha-Midot: When you play your nigunim, you stir the Holy One, blessed be He, to look at why this nation, whose nigun you are playing, is oppressed. And the players who preceded us and those in our time would take Gentile nigunim and bring them into holiness to make songs to God from them.60

58 Cited in Zvi Mark, Scroll of Secrets: The Hidden Messianic Vision of R. Nachman of Bratslav (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2006), 87 [Heb]. 59 See Yehuda Liebes, “Ha-Tikkun Ha-Kelali of R. Nachman of Bratslav and Its Sabbatean Links,” in Studies in Jewish Myth and Jewish Messianism, trans. Batya Stein (Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1993), 137. 60 R. Nachman of Bratslav, Sefer ha-Midot [The book of character], Yeshu`ah [Salvation], part 1, 28; Divrei Mordechai (Tsuba: Sasson, 1873), 27b. Cited also in Amnon Shiloah, The Musical Legacy of Jewish Communities (Tel Aviv: Open University Press, 1985–1987), unit 4, 20 [Heb].

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In the wake of R. Nachman, Abadi stated that it was possible, and worthwhile, to appropriate Gentile melodies so as to return them to their original sacredness (alternatively, this practice was interpreted as raising these melodies from impurity to holiness). Furthermore, Abadi claimed that nigun stirs the Holy One, blessed be He, to look after his people in exile and hasten their redemption. Between the lines, we may detect here indications of a conception of music as a magical practice capable of awakening God. R. Nachman’s thought also influenced R. Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook. Traces of this influence are evident at least in two principles proclaimed by R. Kook: 1) music conveys levels of knowledge; 2) messianism is anchored in music. I deal with Rav Kook’s approach at length below.61 Here, I will note that, in his early thought, Rav Kook explained the aggadah about the lyre’s strings as proof that the final redemption will not necessarily be a single homogeneous event but rather a gradual one, involving several episodes of growing significance (“with ascents and ascents”).62 For Maharal and R. Kook, then, as for many other thinkers, musical motifs joined into a longstanding tradition that described the exile and the course towards redemption. My discussion presented several stations of this thought. I conclude with the words of Joseph Klausner (1874–1958), who was among the founders of Israel’s academic institutions (the Hebrew University and The Academy of the Hebrew Language). In his work on messianism, Klausner claimed that, on the whole, poetry and the poetic style moderate the messianic approach and make it more universal and spiritual.63 He formulated a principle in the name of the prophets: “The redemption of Israel is the redemption of the world, even the inanimate world.”64 According to the biblical approach, humans are responsible for nature’s decay, and human redemption will therefore lead to the redemption of nature as well. Klausner finds the source of this approach in the prophecy of Isaiah (44:23), “Sing, O heavens, for the Lord has

61 See below, 203–208, 249–283. 62 Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook, Afikim ba-Negev (1903), printed in Otsrot ha-Re’ayah, ed. Moshe Yehiel Zuriel (Sha`alavim and Tel Aviv: Yeshivat Sha`alavim, 1988), 748 [Heb]. 63 Joseph Klausner, The Messianic Idea in Israel: From Its Beginning to the Completion of the Mishnah, trans. W. F. Stinespring (New York: Macmillan, 1955), 196–198. Klausner referred to the authors of the psalms. 64 Ibid., 152 (emphasis in the original).

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done it; shout, O depths of the earth; break forth into singing, O mountains, O forest, and every tree in it! For the Lord has redeemed Jacob, and will be glorified in Israel.” According to these verses, music characterizes cosmic redemption, and the song of nature is the song of redemption.

The National Digression At the time of the national renaissance, music conveys the common roots and the harmony underlying the broad ethnic diversity of the Jewish people. Aharon David Gordon (1856–1922), one of the prominent thinkers and pioneers of the Zionist movement during the Second Aliyah (1904–1914), developed the concept of experience as the link between being, which refers to existence as a primary immanent fact, and knowledge, which he defined as the turn outward, the intellectual and sensorial perception of objects. Experience is an active process whereby humans become aware of nature’s vital layer and connect with it. According to Gordon, experience relates to the inner, atavistic layer in each human being: “He feels in all his being that he is in some special way united with this universal, eternal creation.”65 Two expressions of experience are religiosity and collectivity, which come together in the idea of nationality. Religiosity is a significant characteristic of the conscious and experiential association with the cosmos. Because experience is a result of an inner, dynamic, and fundamental connection of both knowledge and activity, institutionalized religion cannot be its faithful expression. Another important characteristic is the connection to the collective and to the nation, a claim that is not self-evident — experience is a vital inner activity of the individual, the depth dimension of sensorial and epistemic existence. How can the group be viewed as an expression of experience? Furthermore, nationality is an expanded expression of the group, so how can it be an experience? For this purpose, Gordon enlisted music: This [form of religion] is an expression of the supreme musicality of the collective, national soul, a kind of melody that brings 65 Aharon David Gordon, “Man and Nature,” in his Selected Writings ( Jerusalem: WZO, 1982), 96 [Heb]. See also Eliezer Schweid, The World of A. D. Gordon (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 1970), 101–108 [Heb]. Abraham Shapira points to the mystical sources of experience in his “On Harmony as an Aesthetic Component,” the second chapter of The Kabbalistic and Hasidic Sources of A. D. Gordon’s Thought (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 1996) [Heb]. See Friedrich Kainz, Aesthetics the Science, trans. Herbert M. Schueller (Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press, 1962), 464–466.

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together in national life the voices of all the souls of the nation as it comes forth in a musical choir, in national life. . . . This feeling at times prevails during a national religious festival. No individual or communal celebration could reach the musicality marking a national religious festival, obviously when the participants are genuinely and honestly national and religious.66 Musical harmony explains the connection of experience to the collective. The individual experience is autonomous and suffers no harm if the individual is attached to the collective. Indeed, quite the contrary: the collective adds value to the individual experience. Festivals reflect this fusion of the religious and national aspects since they are directed to the public in general and, at the same time, address the individual’s most intimate, creative, and rational experiences. Thus, for Gordon, musical harmony is a feature of the national life experience in its deepest and most vital sense. The definitions of “knowledge” and “experience” in Gordon’s writings are oblique and complicated, as has been discussed in scholarly literature. Evidently, Gordon wanted to convey his personal intuitive experience in theoretical abstract terms. The encounter between religiosity and nationality in his thought is an even more complex issue, the roots of which lie in ancient sources. It is therefore interesting that Gordon found in music a means for expressing and clarifying the inner abstract dimensions. Or perhaps, it is precisely the conceptual complexity that requires using an experience and a musical language for conveying it. Gordon, then, adopted a musical metaphor based on latent and overt mystical foundations. In the discussion below, I will also deal with music as a metaphor for the divine layers, this time in Kabbalah.

Theosophic Representation In kabbalistic literature, the terms “song” and nigun are used to represent the divine sefirot and their emanation from one another. For example, in the Zohar literature, the terms zemer, nigun, and shir (all Hebrew variations of “song” or “tune”) represent different sefirot (chokhmah, chesed, din, malkhut, and others).67 66 Gordon, “Man and Nature,” 134. 67 Amnon Shiloah and Ruth Tene, Music Subjects in the Zohar: Texts and Indices ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1977) [Heb].

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In Sefer ha-Peli’ah, the process of emanation is described in musical terms woven into a very detailed account. These symbols recur innumerable times in kabbalistic literature Kabbalah, then, viewed the terms of the nigun as expressions of distinct divine dimensions. Music became, as it were, a way of depicting the intra-divine emanation, and the flow of sounds characterizes the flow of emanation. Given that human language cannot define the nature of emanation since we are dealing with the divinity itself, music becomes the language that mediates and maps out its course. This role of music was further developed in the Hasidic movement, founded by R. Israel Ba`al Shem Tov, which brought abstract thought closer to everyday life.68 I focus below on the thought of Habad’s founder, R. Schneur Zalman of Lyady, and on that of R. Abraham Hacohen Kook’s circle, which was influenced by Habad.

The Advantages of Representation In his sermons and in many writings, R. Schneur Zalman of Lyady dealt with the merits of singing, nigun, and dance. In my discussion above, I adressed the instrumental value of music in his writings, and now I move on to its essential religious aspect. R. Schneur Zalman’s conceptual interest focused especially on the higher realms of the divinity and on its primordial stage, that is, before tsimtsum. The advantages of music in the representation of the supernal worlds and the description of the divinity’s “hidden” life are the following: 1) song and nigun convey the yearning of the worlds and their existents to “be included” (lehitkalel) into, and commune with, their source;69 2) song and nigun are linked to the Torah, as evident in the musical aspect of the cantillations;70 3) song and nigun usually involve repetitions, and, therefore, represent the ideas of the circle and the circumference, which express the “indifferent” dimensions of the divinity, ones that do not turn to the nether worlds.71 68 See above, 154–162. 69 For example, see Schneur Zalman, Likkutei Torah (Vilna, 1904; repr., Brooklyn and Kefar Habad, 1979), Song of Songs, 1c; idem, Ma’amarei Admor ha-Zaken (1906), vol. 2 (Brooklyn, 2006), 574; Siddur Admor ha-Zaken (Brooklyn, 2002), 278c. 70 Schneur Zalman, Ma’amarei (1906) (2), 736. 71 Ibid., 741, 746.

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4) song and nigun are an expression of the supreme pleasure (sha`ashu`a).72 Other Habad rabbis developed these advantages and dwelled on them in their books, articles, and sermons. This Habad discourse influenced twentiethcentury Jewish thought, as I will discuss below.

Divine Presence An unusual elaboration of music’s symbolism in Habad Hasidism emerged in a key forum of twentieth-century Orthodoxy—the circle of R. Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook. Rav Kook’s approach is unique in its poetic expression of kabbalistic elements in modern Hebrew. In many of his conceptual passages, Rav Kook describes emanation, meaning the flow of the sefirot and the divine figures from one to another. He saw himself as charged with the mission of spreading the Kabbalah’s secrets in contemporary Hebrew, and these passages fulfill his vision. The revelation of these secrets is an element of Rav Kook’s messianic interpretation of contemporary events. The poetic Hebrew he adopted is a cover for an inner mystical language, which comes forth in his descriptions of the most primary and fundamental emanation processes that take place in the divine world. This language uses terms related to song to describe the broad realm that transcends rational thought.73 For Rav Kook, the song is, inter alia, a representation of the intra- and extra-divine emanation processes, as illustrated by the examples I give below. Rav Kook mentioned various paths for the flow of emanation, some going downward, from the divine world to the earthly one, and some upward, thanks to the human theurgic activity that directed emanation to the divine word. These paths were also represented as songs: At times, the sacred song of supreme joy74 pours from the river75 of practical and theoretical Torah, moves upward from the hairs76 72 Schneur Zalman, Likkutei Torah, Song of Songs, 1d. 73 See below, 249–283. 74 See Hekhalot Rabbati 33a, published in Batei Midrashot, ed. Shlomo Aharon Wertheimer, vol. 1 ( Jerusalem, 1893–1895), 119. He may have been hinting here to the sefirah of chesed, which is represented by expressions of joy. 75 River (nachal) generally means the sefirah of binah. Further on, it symbolizes binah as the supreme freedom. 76 In kabbalistic and Hasidic literature, hairs convey the lowest rank, which has no continuity with the highest one. See Schneur Zalman, Ma’amarei (1906) (1), 313; and, similarly,

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and the hair ends of basic halakhic constructs until it reaches heavenly heights, when the splendor of the world, rivers, and streams of water77 pour out from them. And at times, it comes from the central spring standing at the ready in the human soul that, on its way, encounters the many ordered rules in the Torah and the Talmud and merges with them. From their union, eternal worlds are created, shaped, and made, and, from the splendor of emanation, they are sated, pleased, and refined. And at times, the spirit comes from the supreme source, which contains all the fountains of the great deep78 and all the waters of heaven, all the wellsprings of the Torah and of action, the Talmud, and the intellect, and all that is in the worlds, and all the supreme freedom and liberty, together.79 From this great flow, all is glorified, the Torah is strengthened, the heavenly spirit is braced, and the holy spirit rings,80 storming in the tumult, trumping loudly81 from the song of the Maskil82 in joy and song.83 The passage begins and ends with music. In the beginning, song represents emanation in a hinted kabbalistic terminology (from binah, through chesed, to malkhut), and at the end, it denotes the highest rank of emanation, not necessarily in its quality but regarding the source. When emanation spreads in balanced and proper ways, the divine and the earthly worlds join together (be-choveret), each one maintaining its uniqueness in this union, intimating a musical harmony that conveys the unity and harmony of the cosmos. Rav Kook describes three types of emanation in this passage: 1) the study of the Torah and its existence create an emanation that rises to the supreme ranks of the divinity (upward); 2) the supreme ranks of the soul release an emanation that descends and merges with the emanation flowing from Torah study (downward);

77 78 79 80 81 82 83

Maggid of Mezeritch, Or Torah, 111a. According to Isaiah 30:25. According to Genesis 7:11 and 8:2. Be-hoveret, according to Exodus 26:4, 10. See BT Sotah 9b. According to Isaiah 9:4. According to Psalms 47:8, 54:1, and 55:1. According to Isaiah 32:5. Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim ( Jerusalem, 1999), 5:136 and 2:256 [Heb].

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3) emanation flowing from the divine presence includes all types of emanation (both modes together). Together, these three types of emanation, when they are balanced and functioning properly, elevate everyone and everything, both at the individual and at the cosmic levels. This emanation, which obviously cannot be characterized in rational language, is described in musical terms instead. In an additional passage, Rav Kook uses further musical terms to describe the process of emanation—from the supernal to the nether worlds and the response in the reverse direction: “The supreme waves act ceaselessly on our soul. Our inner spiritual movements result from the same sighs uttered by the violin of our soul after it listens to the voice resonating in the supreme emanation.”84 The flow in both directions, from the sefirot to the soul (emanation) and from the soul to the sefirot (theurgy), parallels the musical process. The supernal voice is absorbed in “the inner ear” and the soul itself emits sounds that rise higher and higher. Metaphors of voice, song, and listening that describe the reception of divine energy appear in a discussion on the rise of the sparks motif. According to Lurianic Kabbalah, following the breaking of the vessels, their sparks spread everywhere. The task incumbent on the Jewish people generally, and on pious Jews in particular, is to gather these sparks in order to bring about redemption. Rav Kook writes: And the divine faith, in its strength and span, will forever be the soul of every development, human and cosmic. The hidden [lit. hylic] meditations [ha-hegyonot ha-golmiyim]85 throughout the cosmos are chapters of song [pirkei shira] of praise to God,86 and whoever listens to the mystery of their discourse sings with them their song—his song—with the full pleasure of the heart.

84 Ibid., 8:15 (vol. 3, 247). An echo of acoustic dissonance could be resonating in this passage. The “supreme waves” activate the “violin in the soul” (ha-kinor ha-nishmati). 85 Meaning the material objects that are perceived as limited apprehension. Golem appears here in its medieval denotation as “matter.” See Jacob Klatzkin, Thesaurus of Philosophical Terms, vol. 1 (Berlin, 1928), 116–117; David H. Baneth, “On the Philosophic Terminology of Maimonides,” in Maimonides: Book of Tarbiz, ed. Yaakov Epstein ( Jerusalem, 1935), 16 [Heb]. 86 On song as connecting ideas and as the totality of the cosmos, see, for example, Arthur Schopenhauer, The World as Will and Representation, trans. E. F. J. Payne, vol. 1 (New York: Dover, 1969), 244.

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And, accordingly, everything rises. The continuous and powerful [cosmic] ideal pulls upward every spark and every drop merging with it, and even whatever it touches.87 For Rav Kook, rescuing the sparks or drops that were caught in the husks of the broken vessels denotes the process of cosmic amendment that will finally reveal the total fullness and perfection of the divinity—“there is no other besides him” (Deuteronomy 4:35). In his view, all the seemingly natural moves, whether in humans or in the world, are meant for the disclosure of God’s fullness and perfection. Divine perfection drives the process from within and, as it were, is “its soul.” The divine will—in the passage cited it comes from the divine figure called Arikh Anpin, which expresses a high level of the world of tikkun—directs the entire cosmos and all that exists in it to the revelation of God’s absolute perfection. Terms related to music and listening denote contemplation of the inner aspect of the limited physical objects. This contemplation reveals the “song” of the material objects, that is, the unlimited emanation that drives them from within.88 In the present context, this emanation is the spark imprisoned in matter. Hence, to listen is to expose the inner layer in external existence, discovering the unlimited within the limited and rescuing

87 Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook, Orot ha-Kodesh, vol. 2 ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1963), 569 [Heb]; Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim 3:7 (vol. 2, 8). Cf. Yosef BenShlomo, “Lurianic Kabbalah and Rabbi Isaac Hacohen Kook’s Philosophical System,” in Lurianic Kabbalah: Proceedings of the Fourth International Conference on the History of Jewish Mysticism (Jerusalem, February 1991), ed. Rachel Elior and Yehuda Liebes, Jerusalem Studies in Jewish Thought 10 (1992): 449–457 [Heb]. 88 One able to recognize the inner emanation and ready to absorb it is described as possessing a “poetic soul.” The ability to receive emanation is added to the emotional meaning poured into the song and the piyyut: “The possessor of a poetic soul must be aware of his quality, his longings and special desires, his mood and the spiritual food unique to him, all required to satisfy his spiritual vitality as air is for breathing. Even when participating with others who fulfill other spiritual demands, he should never forget that he is required to understand his own situation and spiritual basis. On all facts, conversations, teachings, studies, speculations, and contemplations, he will dispense his pure strong spirit, full of living and truthful sacred poetry, a pure infusion of currents of light, poetic musings, and the uplifting of the soul, forever longing for its beloved redeemer, the living God.” Kook, Orot ha-Kodesh, vol. 3, 216; idem, Shemonah Kevatsim, 8:9 (vol. 3, 245). See also Zvi Yaron, The Philosophy of Rabbi Kook, trans. Avner Tomaschoff ( Jerusalem: WZO, 1991), 125–128; Yehuda Gelman, “Aesthetics,” in The World of Rav Kook’s Thought, ed. Benjamin Ish-Shalom and Shalom Rosenberg, trans. Shalom Carmy and Bernard Casper (New York: Avi Chai, 1991), 195–206; Benjamin Ish-Shalom, Rav Avraham Yitzhak Ha-Cohen Kook: Between Rationalism and Mysticism, trans. Ora Wiskind-Elper (Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1993), 134–137.

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from matter the spark and the “soul.”89 Terms related to poetry and listening are used here to denote both the act of exposure and the divine inner content that drives the external reality.90 Terms related to poetry also clarify Rav Kook’s view of repentance and the development of his thought in Orot ha-Teshuvah. Consider the well-known letter of Rav Kook to R. Yaakov Moshe Harlap (1882–1951) on this matter: At the basis of everything must be the general explanation about the assurance of repentance, the strength of serenity, and the enormous joy that takes over the soul of every person when it is illuminated by the light of repentance. It [the explanation] should clarify how this true joy and the pleasure of the holy splendor do not, God forbid, breach, or in any way detract from, the spiritual awakening the soul acquires from various images of lower [teta’ah] awe but, indeed, expand the essential power of the soul’s caution and swiftness. Nevertheless, the supreme greatness [gedulah] of the primeval light’s great brilliance of chesed fills all the chambers of the soul with vast confidence until, with faithful strength [gevurah] and with the whole fullness of the soul, an original holy song emerges, saying with full life and glory: “who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit, who encircles you with steadfast love and mercy, who satisfies your old age with good so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.”91 There are two levels in this passage, which reflect Rav Kook’s complex writing.92 The explicit meaning is spiritual and experiential. The aim of the planned work,

89 The description of the sparks as the inner “soul” of beings as it appears in the passage from Orot ha-Kodesh cited above is found in Lurianic Kabbalah. See Isaiah Tishby, The Doctrine of Evil and the “Kelippah” in Lurianic Kabbalism ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1984), 125 [Heb]. It merits note that the perception of song as reflecting inner worlds and discovering them in the soul appears at the end of the seventeenth century in the novel of Novalis, Heinrich von Ofterdingen (Weimar: G. Kiepenheuer, 1917). 90 For further examples, see Dov Schwartz, Challenge and Crisis in Rabbi Kook’s Circle (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 2002), 169–177, 202–204 [Heb]. 91 Psalms 103:3–5 (slightly modified RSV). Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook, Iggerot ha-Rayah, vol. 2 ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1962), 36–37 [Heb]. This epistle was published at the opening of Orot ha-Teshuvah of Yeshivat Or Etzion, hence its wide diffusion. 92 See Dov Schwartz, “Religious Zionism and Herzl: Variations of an Image,” in Herzl Then and Now: “The Jewish State” in the State of the Jews, ed. Avi Sagi and Yedidia Stern

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Orot ha-Teshuvah, is to explain the paradox at the basis of repentance. On the one hand, repentance is a shocking event that destabilizes the person (it brings the feeling of “awe”), and on the other, it is a source of serenity and joy. For Rav Kook, this psychological and experiential paradox justifies writing an ordered methodical essay, as he notes in the above letter, “to prepare it and arrange it properly,”93 even though he was not inclined to systematic writing. The psychological paradox is presented in a variety of poetic forms. Rav Kook’s description of emanation in this passage is consistent with kabbalistic theories: the emanation descends from its supreme source in keter (“primeval light”), then it is revealed even more strongly at the levels of chesed (“greatness”) and din (gevurah), and finally descends to the level of malkhut (“holy song”). Elsewhere, Rav Kook described the union of tif’eret and malkhut as the conjunction of, respectively, truth and song.94 Musical terms, then, reflect for Rav Kook the emanation processes in the intra-divine world as well as the extra-divine cosmic regularity.95 Rav Kook’s disciples-colleagues also used the motifs of song and listening but they wrote in their personal style, very different from the flowing sweeping style that Rav Kook resorted to when describing the divine emanation and its presence in the cosmos. R. David Cohen, also known as the Nazir, emphasized the motif of hearing and used images related to music to convey the exposure of inwardness, meaning the immanent divine presence (“the laws of the supreme nigun”).96 But most of his discussions addressed, quite extensively, the principle that the nigun relates to emanation, which proceeds through the divine sefirot and ranks them according to their level of exposure: “According to the inner wisdom, the law is the foundation of the invisible inner world hidden below the

( Jerusalem: Shalom Hartman Institute, 2008), 291–332 [Heb]; idem, “Religious Zionism and the Art of Writing: A Preliminary Consideration,” in Jewish Political Tradition Throughout the Ages: In Memory of Daniel J. Elazar, ed. Moshe Hellinger (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2010), 307–332 [Heb]. 93 Kook, Iggerot ha-Re’ayah, vol. 2, 36. 94 “Strength and glory then harmonize, with truth and the splendor of song in their more perfect forms joining together” (Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 2:137 [vol. 1, 333]). Rav Kook wrote about the integration of two perceptions of the object in Kantian style: perceiving the object as it appears in the mechanisms of knowledge and perceiving the object in itself. On the connection between tif’eret and malkhut and “poetic creation” in Rav Kook’s writings, see also ibid., 4:73 (vol. 2, 157). 95 “The entire world is harmony” (Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 1:370 [vol. 1, 125]). 96 See David Cohen, The Voice of Prophecy ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1970), 42 [Heb]. Music plays a significant role in his approach. My concern here are his views on the divinity and emanation.

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image of the visible world, . . . the laws of the supreme nigun.”97 In this passage, the Nazir succinctly describes the structure of sefirot (tree of emanation) and names the sefirot of chokhmah, binah, yesod, and malkhut. This is just one ranking of divine revelation and exposure following the movement of emanation. Other such rankings in kabbalistic thought included letters in the divine name, the soul’s dimensions, and so forth. The Nazir presented a process of musical emanation that parallels ontic emanation in two hidden ways: 1) from the supreme nigun (chokhmah), which is without sound, to the rhythmic nigun—the kabbalists hinted at this by referring to the sefirah of malkhut as “song”; 2) from the supreme hearing (chokhmah) to the visible realm (malkhut). Although the Nazir’s style is stenographical and different from the poetic flow of Rav Kook, his thought went in the same direction as that of his leader. According to R. Harlap as well, song and words reflect the divine presence (“divine light”) in the material reality and the ways of its exposure. R. Harlap, however, explained that hearing the music of the cosmos depends on the perception of its united dimension. The divine music of the cosmos is only revealed through the perception of the unity of reality. The sounds of the cosmos are heard only through harmony. R. Harlap resorted to the two aesthetic motifs of light and sound: The entire cosmos [havayah, lit. being] conveys the honor of God, but since it is impossible to grasp the divine light except through the revelation of the whole cosmos and all the objects and beings given that the divine light does not split into parts, we cannot grasp through the cosmos even a partial concept of the eternal divinity. That is why we do not hear at all the whispers of the cosmic song98 that never ceases to praise, bless, extol, and glorify. “The heavens are telling the glory of God and the firmament proclaims his handiwork” (Psalms 19:1). We do not hear anything from the cosmos because as long as all its hidden and concealed treasures have not been discovered and all its many hosts are not discerned—there is no sound

97 Ibid. 98 Based on Rav Kook’s poem Lechashei ha-Havayah (Cosmic whispers). See Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook, Orot ha-Re’ayah ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1970), 69 [Heb].

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from the whole (kol, lit. all), and without the whole, there is no part either. The cosmos will be revealed in all its splendor and beauty and in all that can be done in it in general and in particular, and then it will be God’s dwelling. “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory.”99 R. Harlap, then, refused to accept the notion of partial, incomplete knowledge. The messianic drive of his thought sought full disclosure of the divine presence in the earthly world. This disclosure is the song of the cosmos, which attests to the divinity that drives it and breathes within it. Furthermore, the cosmic song is nothing more than the song of unity and totality. R. Harlap conveys Rav Kook’s view of complete unity through music. We found that, in R. Harlap’s thought, song symbolizes the disclosure and description of reality’s sublime aspect (“greatness”), that is, the divine presence in it. This symbolization reappears in his explanation of the original sin. In R. Harlap’s view, Adam sought the “greatness” of the cosmos. Due to the sin of eating from the tree of knowledge, Adam mistakenly held that greatness is an immanent feature of the material world. Song, therefore, is a means for exposing the material world’s sublime aspect: Poets sing songs about mountains and hills, about valleys, seas, and rivers, about trees and weeds, about plants, about beasts and animals, and about man, all to find splendor within the cosmos, to quench the thirst for greatness with saltwater. They neither know nor understand that the thirst for poetry will not be quenched unless they sing a new song to our Lord.100 What, then, is the “true” song of the cosmos? R. Harlap’s answer is unequivocal: Moses, who listened to the song of the cosmos, knew that every single commandment in the Torah and all that is written in it are all musical notes that, together, form a perfect melody. He was able to reveal to us from God that the Torah and only the Torah is the complete song. “Now, therefore, write this song”

99 Isaiah 6:3. Yaakov Moshe Harlap, Mei Merom: Lechem Abirim ( Jerusalem: Bet Zevul, 1977), 51 [Heb]. 100 Idem, Mei Merom: Ori ve-Yish`i ( Jerusalem: Bet Zevul, 1980), 396 [Heb]. Note that this passage contains hints to the sefirot of tif’eret and malkhut (song).

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(Deuteronomy 31:19), because the Torah is the tree of life, and the tree of knowledge is the opposite. To this day, the same poisoned lure in the cruel venom of asps101 goes on tempting and the seduced follow, diverted from greatness and the song of truth—the song of the living God—and imagining that all is imbued within the cosmos on its own, without any need for searching the heavens.102 According to R. Harlap, “the supreme song above that is far more uplifting than any good and evil reality” adds what is “beyond the cosmos” to the description of the sublime in the cosmos itself.103 The sublime is revealed through the Torah. More precisely: the commandments of the Torah expose the supernatural aspect that drives the material world, while the original sin hinders this exposure. To repent, then, is to seek the ascension of the world from the finite to the infinite and from the limited to the unlimited. Hence, R. Harlap, in the wake of Rav Kook, called this ascension “the song of life,”104 because repentance reveals the constant exaltation. Hence, contrary to several of Rav Kook’s sayings, where the term “song” means the stable flow of emanation that constantly exalts the whole of reality, R. Harlap presents the “song” as the exposure of that state, that is, an activity. An additional practical layer is added to the musical terms in the thought of R. Zvi Yehuda Kook, who digressed from metaphysics to politics. R. Zvi Yehuda often sought to implement his father’s outlook.105 He claimed that the song terms are connected to the nation’s ideal leadership, meaning the divine leadership that will be revealed in the era of redemption. Recognition of the future divine kingdom is reflected in song: Indeed, sublime and noble is this special perek shirah,106 the song of this and all other virtues revealed in the course of our return

101 According to Deuteronomy 32:33. 102 Harlap, Ori ve-Yish`i, 396. 103 Ibid., 407. 104 Ibid., 397–398. The role of the “renaissance generation” that builds the land is to revive “the supreme melody, the cosmic song” (ibid., 399). 105 See, for example, Dov Schwartz, “A Theological Justification of a National-Messianic Doctrine: R. Zvi Yehuda Kook’s Endeavor,” Zionism 22 (2000): 61–81 [Heb]. 106 On perek shirah, see above, 171–172.

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to the place designated by God [the Land of Israel] . . . because he sets up salvation to a strong city as walls and bulwarks.107 R. Zvi Yehuda explored the experiential-aesthetic overtones of the term “song,” which he used to describe the beauty and nobility of the actual redemption process—the gradual108 action of divine providence in the settlement and redemption of the landof Israel. He thereby refrained from kabbalistic, ontological, and epistemological allusions to the poetic terms and focused on their deployment in the service of the messianic impulse burning inside him.109 The circle of R. Zvi Yehuda applied itself to the formulation of terms related to music in contemporary Hebrew. Their linguistic creativity was an important component of their thought, developing in an era of redemption. In addition, Rav Kook’s circle assumed the task of bringing esoteric teachings into the literature of the national renaissance.era and modern Hebrew terminology cannot be separated from the kabbalistic approach. Henceforth, the mythical style of the musical approaches in Kabbalah becomes a theoretical style, as it had been in the thought of Maharal discussed above. Rav Kook’s son channeled the song terms to the activist political realm, just as he interpreted the whole of his father’s thought in the light of this trend. The influence of Habad is also increasingly blunted in R. Zvi Yehuda’s thought. The tradition of music as reflecting and representing the tree of emanation, however, continues in the thought of Rav Kook’s circle.

Music as Poetry With the Haskalah, we reach a new chapter in the evolution of musical representation, which comes forth in the work of several poets. Musical elements appear in several contemporaneous poems as images or metaphors of poetry. The poet is perceived as a musician. On the one hand, this trend reflects a return to times before the classic and romantic eras, when the poet and the musician were usually the same person. On the other, this is an entirely new move, with the melody representing the spirit of the poet. The tendency to express the power of poetry through music is typical of poets who leaned towards Romanticism.

107 According to Isaiah 26:1. See Zvi Yehuda Kook, “Shir la-Ma`alot,” in Li-Ntivot Israel ( Jerusalem: Choshen Lev, 1999), 116 [Heb]. 108 See below, 171–172. 109 See Schwartz, Challenge and Crisis, part 1.

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These poets, as shown below, relied indirectly on the Neopythagorean idea that music reflects cosmic regularity and the human creative spirit as a microcosm, adding to it the representation of the poetics by means of song. Poets merged various conceptual trends and perceptions of music in their work, and gave a new representational setting to musical motifs.

The War of the Song Shlomo Levisohn (1789–1821), who was born in Hungary, was influenced by various cultural sources during his stay in Prague and Vienna in his later years. His book Melitsat Yeshurun (1816) deals with poetics and biblical exegesis. Although this is not a philosophical work, Levisohn enters into a discussion of aesthetics because he defines biblical poetry as sublime. Tova Cohen, who edited this book, writes: “The central deliberate intention of this work is the attempt to place at its center a ‘complete rhetoric of the sublime’ as a tool for the analysis of biblical poetry.”110 Levisohn prefaces the book with a poem where he emphasizes the power of words by describing how man will “find rest”111 in the tumult of battlefields and war, the “sound of the pipe”112 will replace the noise of the lance, man’s heart will not be angered by the “arrows flying from the quiver,”113 and man’s head will reach “the seat of the clouds.”114 Levisohn described the crucial impact of poetry and metaphor, which enriches us and grants us new capabilities. Its influence awakens passions and excitement but also tranquility, and its vast powers are described in images of battle and war. Levisohn, the romantic poet, perceives war as an expression of the sublime. War and victory were a significant source of inspiration in the musical creativity of the romantic era. As for Levisohn’s poem, playing music is apparently the poet’s war and the sound of the pipe is the poetic weapon. Alternatively, it could mean that the sounds of battle do not frighten the poet, who interprets them as musical tunes.

110 Tova Cohen, Shlomo Levisohn’s Melitsat Yeshurun: The Work and Its Author (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 1988), 55 [Heb]. This work includes a copy of Melitsat Yeshurun. 111 According to Genesis 8:9; Isaiah 34:14; Lamentations 1:3. 112 According to Job 21:12. 113 According to Lamentations 3:13. 114 Cohen, Levisohn’s Melitsat Yeshurun, 118. See also Hayyim Nahman Shapira, History of Modern Hebrew Literature (Tel Aviv: Massada, 1939), 464–465 [Heb].

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Music in Levisohn’s poem is an expression of the poet’s strength and creativity. This literary use can derive from a perception of the biblical cantillations as a recitative, whereby musicality is an integral part of the biblical text, an approach already evident in the writings of Moses Mendelsohn.115 Levisohn indeed refers to biblical poetics in many places in Melitsat Yeshurun, so musicality could plausibly be a hermeneutical component of the biblical text.

Solomon’s Lyre The musical motif is widespread in the poems of Micah Josef Lebensohn (known as Mikhal, 1828–1852), a Vilnius maskil. The leitmotifs in many of his poems are lyres, harps, and other instruments, as well as different notions of music. The poetic cycle Bat Zion is devoted mostly to biblical figures, and Mikhal added a poem about Judah Halevi. Two of the poems are about King Solomon, one in his youth (“Solomon”) and the other in his old age (“Kohelet,” Hebrew for Ecclesiastes). The motto of these poems is the saying of the Midrash, “A young man says words of song . . . and, when aged, says words of nonsense.”116 Mikhal relied on the Midrash, which ascribes musical nuances to Solomon’s endeavor and to the text of Song of Songs in order to present the wise king as a lyre player who continues David’s musical activity. This description is part of a longstanding tradition that portrays Solomon as a musician. The Renaissance thinker Yohanan Alemanno had already noted about Solomon: Evidence of his excellence as a musician is the prophet’s saying “I got singers, both men and women, and various musical instruments, man’s delight,”117 which include various kinds of vocal playing and musical instruments. The rabbis said he had harps and lyres to walk around with them,118 and he may have acquired his musical wisdom naturally, or through craft, or through both.119

115 See above, 84–85. 116 Song of Songs Rabba 1:10. 117 Ecclesiastes 2:8. The Hebrew shidah ve-shidot, rendered here as “various musical instruments,” appears in different translations as “many concubines.” 118 See II Kings 10:12; II Chronicles 9:11. 119 Yohanan Alemanno, Sefer Sha`ar ha-Cheshek (Livorno, 1790). Sections of this book were printed in Adler, RISM, 41–45. See Idel, “Interpretation,” 37–42. On Abravanel and the tradition of Solomon as a musician, see ibid., 43–44.

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A few lines of Mikhal’s poem can illustrate its rich musical motifs: And Solomon too, his feelings then roared from the Almighty’s vision his eyes had uncovered.120 Irrepressible, they burst out and thundered— so he beat the strings of his lyre, and they moaned.121 The lyre of Solomon conveys delight To the sweet singer of the Lord, his father David,122 Its voice reaching down to the deepest ends And touching the heavenly hosts with its lips.123 He played on it happily about a king’s joy And at adverse times, pondered on it about sorrow.124 The lyre, to which Mikhal ascribes various meanings, is a kind of leitmotif. The lyre as an expression of music does occasionally appear in Jewish thought,125 and I consider some meanings of the instrument in Mikhal’s poem. 1)  The music of the cosmos. The moaning of the lyre represents the entire cosmos, from its deepest ends and up to heaven. Music represents the universe, its order and regularity. 2)  The music of the soul. The lyre represents changing, opposite feelings, ranging from joy to sadness, which music reflects. 3)  The music of power. The sound of the lyre enables control of the wildest and most dangerous beasts.126 Music has magic power and represents human rule over the universe. 120 According to Numbers 24:4, 16. His use of the style of Bilam, the Gentile prophet, hints at the revolt and openness typical of the young king. Lyre playing connects music to youthful rebelliousness. 121 On the moaning of the lyre, see Isaiah 16:11. See also the commentary of R. Shmuel ben Meir (Rashbam) on Deuteronomy 16:23. 122 According to II Samuel 23:1. 123 According to Isaiah 6:7; Jeremiah 1:9. These texts deal with prophecy, clearly indicating that, for Mikhal, music represents both the cosmic heaven and the height of the human spirit, namely, prophecy. 124 Mikhal, Shirei Mikhal, His Letters and Translations (Tel Aviv: Dvir, 1972), 48–49 [Heb]. 125 R. Schneur Zalman of Lyady points out that “the lyre’s sound is the sweetest and most pleasing of all instruments” (Siddur Admor ha-Zaken, 68d). See also, for example, the poem of Rav Kook that opens with the words: “I have laid down my lyre / but have not broken it.” See Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook, Pinkas Reshimot me-London, 28, in his Kevatsim mi-Ktav Yad Kodsho, vol. 1 ( Jerusalem: Machon Ginzei ha-Re’ayah, 2006), 201. 126 According to Hosea 13:5—in the wilderness, in the land of drought where wild animals dwell. Music can control them.

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4)  The music of the generations. The legacy of the lyre represents the unbroken line. Solomon’s lyre is David’s lyre, and music stands for continuity. This continuity of the lyre serves, as it were, as a frame that Mikhal uses to open and close his cycle of poems. After readers understand the centrality of the lyre in it, they can grasp the instrument’s enormous potential. The lyre represents the king’s grandeur in his youth, his era of splendor: he ruled over the biblical Land of Israel, created friendly alliances with the surrounding nations, and ruled over nature since he spoke its language. The political collapse and a gnawing skepticism characterize the figure of the aging Solomon that Mikhal deals with in the “Kohelet” poem. Given that the lyre is the key to Solomon’s character and to the motifs that describe him, we understand that, for Mikhal, music is the true image of poetry and the poet’s spirit. In a sense, the lyre is the poet himself. The musical component—including motifs such as song, voice, poetry, and others—recurs in his later works, most notably, in the posthumous cycle of poems Kinor Bat-Zion. Several poets of the Haskalah paved the way for new forms of musical representation. However, this is true for a few isolated cases and, for most Haskalah poets, music is not the leitmotif. Levisohn, for example, had no essential influence on contemporaneous Haskalah poetry. Furthermore, maskilim were, above all, people of words rather than sound. Many of them dealt with poetry, poetics, and interfacing realms, but not from the perspective of their musical implications.127 Yet, precisely the few poets whose work was considered above prepared the ground, from a perspective of the history of ideas, for an appreciation of music as an expression of personality, experience, and dialogue, as reflected in twentieth-century thought. This development is my next concern.

Experience and Personality References to music in twentieth-century thought come forth mainly in perceptions of music as an expression of personality, its fluctuations, its self-awareness, and its revelation to the other through dialogue. In this period, music conveys the individuals’ return to themselves. Music is perceived as a kind of self-odyssey, which some see as conflicted, as a rift and a sin, whereas others

127 See, for example, Moshe Pel’i, Struggle for Change: Studies in Hebrew Haskalah in Germany in the Late Eighteenth Century (Tel Aviv: University Publishers, 1988), 94 [Heb].

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view it as a reconciliation with the self and as the adoption of the personal biography. The voyage to the self is ultimately revealed as also a voyage to the other. In this discussion, I deal with thinkers who, despite differences in their approaches and styles, all share a view of music as an expression of concrete existence and its characteristics.

Music as Hope The voyage to the concrete personality in twentieth-century thought is hardly discussed in Orthodox circles. The use of music as an expression of the human way, however, appears in the sermons of R. Nathan Zvi Finkel (1849–1927), known as “the grandfather of Slabodka.” R. Finkel was a disciple of R. Simha Zissel Ziv of Kelm, who had studied with the founder of the Musar movement, R. Israel Salanter. R. Finkel adopted a unique approach within the Musar movement, away from the founder’s pessimistic starting point, reflected in the following passage: And how did David express his songs and praises to God? Though harp and lyre, as is written: “Awake, my soul! Awake, O harp and lyre! I will awake the dawn! I will give thanks to thee, O Lord, among the peoples” (Psalms 57:8–9). These instruments, the harp and the lyre, are made from material objects, from still wood and the tendons of a dead beast. And yet, with the touch of his fingers and by moving the strings, David was able to emit wondrous sounds and express praise to the Holy One, blessed be He, that was dearer to Him than all the praise and the glory in the world, and are the very purpose of creation.128 R. Israel Salanter emphasized the demonic power of the evil inclination. He pointed to unconscious powers that threaten our very existence and claimed we must struggle against these forces by studying Musar. The grandfather of Slabodka held that the original message is no longer adequate. The starting point is not only the demonization of the body but also its actual potential to redeem materiality. In his view, the body can be brought to a state where it can

128 Nathan Zvi Finkel, Light of the North, vol. 1 ( Jerusalem, 1978), 43–44 [Heb].

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be an instrument for the worship of God.129 According to R. Finkel, music is an allegory for the actual power to elevate the body. As the strings are merely material objects, so is the human material foundation. And yet, wonderful sounds can be produced from strings, capable of pleasing God. Music, then, is the authentic implementation of poetry. Poetics is activated through sounds.

Music as Suffering Hermann Cohen and Franz Rosenzweig were at the center of cultural developments in Germany during the Second Reich and the Weimar Republic. At the beginning of the twentieth century, neo-Romantic trends flourished in Germany together with the Jewish national awakening, pointing to cultural strivings for authenticity. This trend is symbolized by Martin Buber’s call for a “Jewish renaissance” (1900) and by events such as Arnold Schoenberg’s reconversion to Judaism (1933), which left a mark on musical creativity as well.130 In Hermann Cohen’s thought, music becomes a part of a philosophical system associated with Judaism. In his epistemic idealistic philosophy, Cohen discusses music as an expression of pure feeling. Music is an essential component of the “culture fact” (Kulturfaktum) In Cohen’s approach, this conceptparallels the “science fact” (knowledge) and the “law fact” (ethics). Cohen’s concern is to examine the structure and the order of the existing branches of art as the raw material of philosophical inquiry. This inquiry leads him to the original elements of a priori aesthetic regularity, which is expressed in synthetic a priori sentences. Cohen firmly stated that, without studying the creativity of the “culture fact,” epistemic philosophy collapses.131 In Religion of Reason out of the Sources of Judaism, Cohen qualified these statements. This work sees Judaism as the raw material from which the synthetic a priori foundations of the religion of reason can be reached and, in several places, Cohen discusses poetry as symbolizing and recording religious

129 See Dov Katz, The Musar Movement, vol. 3 ( Jerusalem: Feldheim, 1996) [Heb]. 130 These processes are described at length in Michael Brenner, The Renaissance of Jewish Culture in Weimar Germany (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1996); Klara Moricz, Jewish Identities: Nationalism, Racism, and Utopianism in Twentieth-Century Music (Berkeley: CA: University of California Press, 2008). See also Frederic V. Grunfeld, Prophets without Honour: Freud, Kafka, Einstein, and Their World (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1979). 131 Hermann Cohen, Ästhetik des reinen Gefühls, vol. 1 (Berlin: B. Cassirer, 1912), 18. On music, see ibid., 202–204.

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feelings. Poetry reflects the religious, historical, and collective consciousness. For example, biblical poetry conveys the Eros aspect of the divinity, David’s poetry symbolizes the “unity of the kingdom, the time of the blossoming of the nation,” and the piyyutim of the selichot record the sufferings of the people of Israel.132 Silence, meaning the inability to sing, is also an expression of suffering and torment. The messiah, who represents the suffering of humanity, cannot sing because “poetry, with all its magic, indeed every form of art, distorts the pure image of this sufferer of mankind.”133 In his articles, Cohen writes that the psalmist sings the songs of the suffering, the tormented, and the poor, but not as the one showing them the way or as the prophet, who preaches to the collective to repent. The psalmist sings “songs of lamentation about the fate of the humble poor.”134 The sufferers might be unable to sing, but they find their voice through the psalmist, as the “I” of the poet (Psalmen-Ich) merges with the “I” of the sufferer. Cohen does not analyze the psalms in regard to their music, but drawing rigid distinctions between the biblical poetry of the Book of Psalms and their music is not possible, as evident in many psalms. Music is perceived in Cohen’s thought, then, as an epistemic and conscious representation. Some researchers claim that this is an idealistic representation of the religious dimension as the realm of the culture’s spirit.

Music as Dialogue Franz Rosenzweig approaches Cohen’s Religion of Reason in existentialist terms. His interpretation of this book is also shaped around the place and standing of the musical motif. Rosenzweig received a musical education in childhood and

132 Hermann Cohen, Religion of Reason out of the Sources of Judaism, trans. Simon Kaplan (New York: F. Ungar, 1972), 251. In various communities, selichot are based on tunes and on rich musical traditions. See Shlomo Goldsmith, Seder ha-Selichot ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1965), 8–9, 13 [Heb]. 133 Cohen, Religion of Reason, 266. Unintentionally, the Jewish messiah is described in terms characteristic of the Christian messiah. See Andrea Poma, The Critical Philosophy of Hermann Cohen, trans. John Denton (Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1997), 242–247. 134 Hermann Cohen, Essays on Judaism, trans. Zvi Wislavsky ( Jerusalem: Hebrew University Press, 1935), 79 [Heb]. This article was written in 1914, about five years before the publication of Religion of Reason. The messiah is described in it as one who sings, given that Cohen adopted here the messiah’s political dimension. See also Poma, The Critical Philosophy, 210.

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played the violin.135 In The Star of Redemption, he ascribes great importance to music as a representation of the concrete, temporal, and dialogical component of existence in the light of revelation and also as a form of religious worship that seeks the presence of eternity in human life. In particular, he points to the place of music in the shaping of Christian liturgy, which frequently places the believer on the way to God. In Rosenzweig’s view, far more emphasized in Judaism is the search for a supreme silence that is beyond speech, song, and music. I will briefly trace the course of this idea. Rosenzweig saw music as the actual dialogical occurrence realized in the present. Contrary to the visual arts, which are revealed to the spectator as a totality, music compels attention to sounds in a sequence. Music, then, is the art of details. The visual arts belong to the “epic” category, which denotes the exposure of the work’s inner coherent mechanism, “the aesthetic unity.” By contrast, music belongs to the “lyric” category, where the emphasis is on the revelation of the work’s multiple details. Rosenzweig writes: The placing of the details outside of the whole cannot be, like in the plastic arts, the inner seen vision of the finished work of art itself, for even on the inside, a glance that surveys everything136 all at once is not possible here [in music].137 Since listening requires consistent attention to the melodic units, it takes place within rather than outside the flow of time. As Yaakov Fleischmann comments, Rosenzweig sees the essence of music in musical time, in the specific rhythm where the individual becomes a partner to the listening of the melody. The place of musical time is between the ephemeral blink of an eye—the transient troubles of daily life— and “real” time, which only religion is capable of substantiating.138

135 See Nahum N. Glatzer, Franz Rosenzweig: His Life and Thought (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1953), xxxvii. 136 Referring to the Whole (Ganzen), meaning the combination of God, the world, and humans, as opposed to das All, which is the totality in an idealistic sense, an approach that Rosenzweig sharply rejected. Thanks to Yehoyada Amir who shed light on this distinction. 137 Franz Rosenzweig, The Star of Redemption, trans. Barbara E. Galli (Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press, 2005), 211. See also Stéphane Mosès, System and Revelation: The Philosophy of Franz Rosenzweig (Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press, 1992), 241–244. 138 Yaakov Fleischman, The Christian Problem in Jewish Thought From Mendelssohn to Rosenzweig ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1964), 183 [Heb]. Gerardus van der Leeuw (1890–1950), an important phenomenologist of religion, defined actual time as a flowing

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Music, then, is the expression of revelation, which is itself the concretization of the dialogue. Rosenzweig applied the triangular model of creation, revelation, and redemption to the musical components as well: 1) the rhythm, music’s fundamental inner construct, reflects creation; at this stage, the musical work is still speechless (Stumm); 2) the harmony, described as the heart and essence of the musical work, reflects revelation: “the singular moment of the musical work is harmoniously inspired with all the profundity of its own atmosphere”;139 3) the melody reflects redemption; it merges rhythm and harmony and expresses the perfection of the musical work. According to Rosenzweig, then, music conveys concrete existence at its peak. It reflects temporality and, largely, the intersubjective communication with the other as well. But Rosenzweig pinned these assumptions on the connection of music to the liturgy.140 Without the connection to religion, music melts into the imagination and loses its connection to reality. Music can lead to alienation, irresponsibility toward the other, and escapism to the ideal. Musical balance, therefore, is found in the liturgy, of which the choral, the oratorios, and the mass are significant expressions. The church music that characterizes the Christian ritual is the expression of the fusion of the individual and the society. To reiterate: for Rosenzweig, music is an artistic pursuit, which turns the ideal into the concrete and temporal, thereby allowing society to have a share in eternity and, as suggested above, also exposes the individual to the other and to society.141

river and as a melody. See his “Primordial Time and Final Time,” in Man and Time: Papers from the Eranos Yearbooks, ed. Joseph Campbell, vol. 3 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1957), 326. 139 Rosenzweig, Star, 213. Moses Mendelssohn described the relationship between harmony and melody as Rosenzweig would later describe the relationship between rhythm and harmony. Mendelssohn argued that, in harmony, the components of beauty fuse into one voice and only melody orders them sequentially in “space.” See Moses Mendelssohn, Philosophical Writings, trans. Daniel Dahlstorm (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 190–191. 140 See Zeev Levy, The Harbinger of Jewish Existentialism: Franz Rosenzweig’s Doctrine (Tel Aviv: Sifriat Hapoalim, 1969), 187 [Heb]. 141 Robert Gibbs, Correlations in Rosenzweig and Levinas (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1992), 134–135.

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Since Rosenzweig perceives Judaism as an actual anticipation of eternity, he ascribes no real significance to the way music shapes a person’s religious experience. In that sense, music is essentially part of the Christian model, which rests on the creation of a concrete religious space—the church—and on the shaping of a concrete religious time—the musical work. The status of music in Christian life is also meaningful to Jews, who are required to look at the other religion and see it as a parallel and a complement to their own. The integration of the Christian and Jewish layers is the message of Rosenzweig’s thought. Music also plays a significant role in Rosenzweig’s view of language, which is a central component of his thought. Creation is realized through speech, and God affirms it through words. Language is also a representation of the created world. Redemption, for example, occurs through communication within society. Rosenzweig describes the development from the I through the I-Thou (dialogue) and up to the community using music and poetry, that is, from the basic units of sound and rhythm (individual) up to the recitation of the Hallel prayer (collective): For every form must echo the fundamental base [Grundbaß] of the sentence, and the forms themselves must carry the sentence under an increasingly accentuated hymnal form. Instead of being a narrative that the narrator wants to bring to his subject, instead of being a dialogue that goes back and forth from one speaker to the other, grammar now appears as a song with intensifying stanzas.142 Rosenzweig refers to the communal dimension of the song as its “unanimity.” The choir, then, represents the language of redemption. The Hallel prayer is the culmination of aesthetic activity that brings together language, art, and cosmic existence.143 “Praise and act of thanks,” writes Rosenzweig, are no more than “the voice of the soul released for unison144 with the whole world and the voice of the world released for the unison of the feeling and the song with the soul.”145 The language of music is thus one of the mature manifestations of revelation, where humans hear the divine voice and become aware of their dialogical

142 Rosenzweig, Star, 248. 143 See Yehoyada Amir, Reason Out of Faith: The Philosophy of Franz Rosenzweig (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 2004), 157 [Heb]. 144 Could be rendered as “harmony” (Einklang). 145 Rosenzweig, Star, 250.

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relationship with God. At the same time, it is also a reflection of the entire process (creation, revelation, and redemption). The musical language is an expression of redemption and, at the same time, it reflects the full dynamic of the new Denken (thought), in Rosenzweig’s terminology. The link he posited between music as a representation of reality and music as a connecting dialogical language does reflect an independent approach toward music. In his view, music expresses the integration of the individual and the other into a community. And yet, seemingly resonating in music’s need for liturgy is the instrumental approach, which is understandable. Rosenzweig could not entirely resist the grip of the traditional views of music in the religious realm and, therefore, tied it to the liturgy. Substantively and historically, however, Rosenzweig’s approach marks a height in the process of granting representational value to the musical element.

Music as a Personal Voyage From early twentieth-century Jewish thought in Germany, I turn now to the national awakening. For Micha Josef Berdyczewski, music represents the tormented soul, volatile and sinful. But these are precisely the attributes of the poet’s soul that, usually, does not take shape in balanced bourgeois society. The model of poetry as an expression of suffering, which appeared in the thought of Hermann Cohen, is the starting point for discussing Berdyczewski’s approach. The characters of Saul and David highlight the standing of music in this model of conflicted emotions. Saul represents the distinguished, privileged character. He is guided by royal manners, even in his last moment, when he falls on his sword after his defeat in battle. By contrast, David is a shepherd, who does not endorse poised and dignified ways. His last words attest to his stormy soul. His love affairs and the revolts in his court attest to volatility. Then, Berdyczewski gives a description that seems to reflect a paradox: And Saul did not sing this song to the Lord on the day that the Lord delivered him from the hand of David his enemy;146 and when God’s spirit was upon him, he commanded the other to take his lyre and play to him and he was refreshed. But King

146 This is a paraphrase that reverses II Samuel 22:1 and Psalms 18:1, where David sings about his salvation from Saul.

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David was the sweet singer of Israel and the psalmist of all generations.147 Ostensibly, the one deserving to sing the nation’s song is the noble king, graced with dignity and regal manners, rather than the stormy and tattered one. But Berdyczewski rejected this assumption. “Who can know the mystery, maybe the great sinner is also the great worshiper.”148Hence, King David becomes the poet who expresses the nation’s feelings, and also the national lyre player. Berdyczewski assumes that, had King Saul written poetry, it would have been a poetry of self-affirmation rather than a prayer and an outpouring of the soul. On the one hand, the national renewal seems to demand pride and magnificence. Although at times of action “there is no room for poetic outbursts,”149 and the national renewal is a time of action, the poetry of the sovereign nation needs splendor and dignity. On the other hand, the character of the poet reflects and represents the national movement as one of sin, rebellion, and breaching conventions. The lyre plays the melody of the tormented youth who has thrown out his ancestral tradition but cannot abandon its conceptual framework and the anguish of deserting it. In its various expressions, music reflects the personal voyage of the tragic Zionist hero who spurned the legacy of the past but is apprehensive about the final break with continuity, identity, and belonging. Berdyczewski used music as an expression of a personal voyage, full of ruptures, torments, and misgivings. In a manner that complements Berdyczewski’s ideas, Andre Hajdu, a composer and researcher of Jewish musical traditions, views music as a personal voyage of self-reconciliation and acknowledgment of the past. Hajdu, who returned to tradition and became an observant Jew late in life, discusses Mahler’s music by acknowledging and endorsing his own biography.150 He argued that Mahler’s creativity reflects the paradoxical existence of an assimilated Jew: I must acknowledge here that I have not always loved Mahler’s music. Indeed the opposite. Only ten years ago, in Israel, my 147 Micah Yosef Berdyczewski, “Vision and Poetry,” in Writings of Micah Yosef Ben-Gurion: Articles (Tel Aviv: Dvir, 1960), 167 [Heb]. 148 Ibid. 149 Ibid., 168. 150 The endorsement of personal biography seems to have been inspired by the ambiance of religious existentialism, which presented Jews who became observant as returning to their actual identity. On the embrace of biography in Kierkegaard’s thought, see Avi Sagi, Kierkegaard, Religion, and Existence: The Voyage of the Self, trans. Batya Stein (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2000), 108–110.

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disgust with his music was replaced by passionate love. All the elements I had found unappealing before—the unusual length, the strange and contradictory rhetoric, the theatrical pathos, the banality, and even the romanticism, which had seemed to me untimely—all suddenly became clear as somehow a portrait of myself. I asked myself how I could have hated so much something that is so much like me. Had this been a concealed self-disgust? I must add that this reversal was not the result of a gradual understanding but a sudden and complete turnaround. I had known and even studied these works previously. What changed, then, was my self-image and particularly my attitude toward all that had seemed monstrous in myself. My going to Israel and my return to Jewish religion may have removed the prohibition and allowed me to recognize myself in that shameful figure, the image of the assimilated Jew I had once been.151 Hajdu referred to the connection to Judaism that emerges after assimilation and comes forth in the unusual presentation of Jewish motifs as an “ironic adoption.”152 The assimilated person that Hajdu describes undergoes the following process: at the first stage, this person abandons Judaism and cuts off from its signs and symbols and, at the second stage, returns to Jewish motifs but does so ironically.153 The Jewish motifs arise from many meanings hidden in the writings and musical compositions of the assimilated person who, by nature, is a rebel, but is unwilling (or unable) to detach from the past. The motivation of assimilated individuals is simple: devotion to creativity demands from them integration in the surrounding culture and abandonment of their ancestral tradition. Hence, they surrender to creativity but do not renounce the consciousness of tradition, which is preserved between the lines or between the sounds. According to his description, Hajdu went through a similar process, except that he was not ready for tradition to be preserved ironically and solely between the sounds.

151 Andre Hajdu, “Reflections on Mahler’s Judaism,” Dukhan 12 (1989): 233 [Heb]. 152 Hajdu, “Reflections on Mahler’s Judaism,” 231. 153 Worth noting here again is the possible influence of Kierkegaard’s work, “On the Concept of Irony,” which deals with open and hidden ambiguities and with the contradiction between them.

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Hajdu describes the process of his arrival in Israel and the return to observance as a reconciliation with himself and, more than that, as a process of selfacknowledgment. Mahler’s attitude to music led Hajdu not only to exposure to the past but also to its adoption and calm acceptance. What had previously seemed “monstrous” now becomes a layer in biographical and creative development. This reflective process became possible after, following much self-scrutiny, he distanced himself from the centers of European culture. His personal voyage took place in Jerusalem, where the composer lived. Thus, for Hajdu music expressed a fascinating voyage of the self that led to results unlike the ones reached by Berdyczewski. Their background is profoundly different: the connection to music, the attitude to religion, and, obviously, their time. But the conception of music as a personal voyage characterizes the biography of the hero, whether tragic or not.

Experience and Criticism Jewish thought reacted cautiously to the perception of music in the modern era as an aesthetic experience. For example, Jacob Joshua Ross, a religious-Zionist scholar of philosophy, was wary of blurring borders between the religious and the musical experiences. In the wake of phenomenologists of religion, Ross claimed that the religious experience has unique features, such as its infrequency (“rarity”), its brevity, and its independence from the person experiencing it. Precisely these characteristics distinguish it from the aesthetic experience of music. This experience can occur frequently through performance, composition, or listening, is almost unlimited in its duration, and, at least for its quality, depends on the talent of the performer, the composer, or the listener. Not everyone can have an aesthetic experience of the same level. Therefore, the religious and musical experience must be clearly separated. Ross went on to claim that their blurring led to controversies such as the polemic around the use of organ in synagogues during the Reform era and is currently an expression of a certain type of secularism: If I am not mistaken, that is the approach that, in our time, has led many people who are detached from any form of organized religiosity and have serious intellectual reservations about religious dogmas and beliefs, to seek fulfillment of their religious needs in music. The organ became a vital instrument of religious

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worship in circles considered progressive and, among modernists, a concert of religious music replaces religious worship.154 Ross ascribed great influence to music and unequivocally stated, “music is not a religion.” Apparently, he realized that many who are devoted to the musical experience (not only young people) view it as a way of life rather than as only one aspect of the aesthetic experience. Indeed, many religiously observant individuals who have adopted a way of life tied to music cannot imagine seeking halakhic permission to listen to church music or to pop and rock music since this is an existential experience. In their view, whoever does not participate in it is unaware of its decisive role in life. Ross may not have intended to deal with this issue, but his comments refer to it indirectly. Ross, then, called for a return to the instrumental perception of music. In his view, the independent and substantive perception of music threatens to replace religion. Music, therefore, should return to its conservative status as a ritual and psychological tool serving religious needs.155 Ross’ stance reflects the conservative religious view, which fears the temptation of music but calls for drawing optimal benefits from it in functional and instrumental terms. In his view, the musical experience is merely a tool in the service of the religious experience.

Musical Theology Jacob Neusner was a prolific and challenging author who wrote numerous books on rabbinic literature in the Mishnah and Talmud periods. One of the founders of Jewish studies in the United States, Neusner was a highly respected scholar in this field. He challenged many research conventions, confronted researchers from various schools, and reviewed many books.156 Precisely on these grounds, we often find that his ideas are fascinating and almost create a theology rather than merely documenting it. Neusner’s theological creativity indeed owes a large debt to music and musical creativity, and this is the topic of the last discussion in this chapter.

154 Jacob Joshua Ross, “Playing and the Jewish Experience,” Dukhan 4 (1963): 16 [Heb]. 155 “[Music is no more than] a human tool, whose power is especially helpful to awaken in us the mood or state that is the ideal accompaniment to the worship of God” (ibid.). 156 See, for example, Jacob Neusner, Paradigms in Passage: Patterns of Change in the Contemporary Study of Judaism (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1988).

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Music and Theology Neusner wrote an entire book presenting the Talmud as musical theology. He did not deal systematically with medieval Jewish thought and his reflections relied directly on talmudic literature. Yet, his book Judaism’s Theological Voice: The Melody of the Talmud157 is unquestionably a theological construct requiring separate discussion. It can be viewed as another link in Neusner’s claim that tannaitic and amoraic literature reflects a philosophy and a conceptual worldview. Contrary to the widely accepted view among scholars in various disciplines stating that this literature is almost entirely indifferent to Greek and Hellenistic philosophy, Neusner claims it does include philosophical arguments and analyses and holds that talmudic literature relies on distinctively philosophical modes of thought.158 For Neusner, theology evolves through a rational philosophical method.159 In Judaism’s Theological Voice, Neusner focuses, as usual for him, on talmudic literature and, through it, proposes a constructive and musical theology of Judaism. Neusner suggests a musical reading of the Talmud, that is, an interpretation of texts and what is beyond them in light of music’s features and characteristics.160 Hence, this is a theological and not necessarily a scholarly treatise, written almost without notes and lacking the bibliography usually found in scholarly works. For whatever reason, this book evoked hardly any reactions after its publication and did not arouse wide interest, despite its originality. Neusner’s discussion deserves specific attention because it appears to be the culmination of the perception of music as a metaphor, as a language, as a dialogue, and as a leading theological and hermeneutical principle in Judaism. In the following discussion, I focus on Neusner’s arguments without analyzing the detailed talmudic examples he cites in his book.

157 Jacob Neusner, Judaism’s Theological Voice: The Melody of the Talmud (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995). For reviews of this book, see Review of Rabbinic Judaism 14 (2011): Dov Schwartz, “From Metaphor to Substance: On Jacob Neusner’s Judaism’s Theological Voice,” 111–119; Isaac Hershkowitz, “The Melody of the Sages: Does God Really Have a Voice?,” 120–128. 158 See, for instance, Raphael Jospe, “Jafet in Sems Zelten: Oder was die Talmudischen und jüdischen Philosophen unter ‘Weisheit des Griechischen’ verstanden,” Judaica: Beiträge zum Verstehen des Judentums 65 (2009): 319–320. 159 Neusner, Judaism’s Theological Voice, 55, 180–182. 160 Babette Babich suggested a similar reading of Nietzsche. See Babette E. Babich, Nietzche’s Philosophy of Science: Reflecting Science on the Ground of Art and Life (Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1994), 16–19.

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Revelation and Voice Neusner’s work on the melody of the Talmud is an aesthetic and analytical voyage from music as metaphor to music as substance. In the first stage, music is perceived as a metaphor. For Neusner, the motif of music offers a general key to the understanding of the Torah within Judaism and of the theophany that characterizes it. Music, then, enables full understanding of the Torah’s ways and of the mutual relationship between God and the people of Israel. The musical metaphor is wonderfully suited to the divine revelation to the people of Israel because it is realized, above all, through voice and sound. The message of the revelation, the Torah, is read to the listener. In the second stage, music is perceived as a significant theological element of the Torah in general, and of the Oral Law in particular. Returning now to the image of music as metaphor, Neusner takes to an extreme the argument about the centrality of the voice and of hearing in the theophany, stating that it takes place solely through the Torah. It is in these terms that he interpreted the words of R. Halafta ben Dosa of Kefar Hanania: “Among ten who sit and work hard on Torah, the Presence comes to rest. . . . And how do we know that this is so even of one? Since it said, ‘In every place where I record my name I will come to you and I will bless you’ (Exodus 20:24).”161 Revelation in nature also takes place only through the chapters on creation in Genesis. Heaven attests to the existence of God because the text in Psalm 19 records this.162 There is no revelation beyond the text, and there is no meaning to revelation without text, voice, and listening. Hence, Neusner rejected the mystical view of revelation in the soul or in consciousness, stating that divine revelation according to Jewish theology takes place only in the Torah. In his view, voice and hearing enable a musical theory of revelation. Theories like that of the Nazir, as noted, also relied on the voice and on hearing to create a new theological structure. In these theories, music is only the expression, indeed a sublime one, of the uniqueness of the voice and of hearing. Neusner, however, suggests a contrary move: revelation can be acoustic because it is song and music.

161 M. Avot 3:6; Yalkut Shimoni, Amos, 548; Neusner, Judaism’s Theological Voice, 31–32. 162 Neusner, Judaism’s Theological Voice, 50.

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Music and Revelation: (1) A Metaphor What elements in Neusner’s view of revelation turn music into a key to its understanding? How does music become a metaphor for God’s relationship with the people of Israel? Neusner builds his theory in a multi-staged sequence. 1)  The event of the theophany. Neusner explains that music reflects the divine revelation because a musical performance is a one-time event. “Written-out notes are not music.”163 Theophany, too, is an encounter that cannot be replicated. Every moment of a Torah reading in the synagogue prayer ritual (on the Sabbath, on festivals, and on Mondays and Thursdays), is irreplicable, as is every moment of yeshiva or academic study. In this way, theophany and creation of music contradict nature because nature is permanent and continuous. Finally, theophany was performed for the people of Israel, as musicians perform for the specific audience before them.164 2)  The continuity of revelation. For Neusner, music reflects constant revelation. According to his interpretation, constant revelation is manifest in two ways, which have evolved over centuries: a) the reading of the Torah in the synagogue is a revelation of the Written Law; b) yeshiva and academic study are considered a revelation of the Oral Law. In the synagogue, God speaks to the people of Israel, and in the study experience—in a Torah lesson, a chavruta, or other contexts—the people of Israel speak with God.165 Every moment of Torah study is a unique experience, which is why we use the present tense in the Torah blessing (“who gives the Torah”).166 Theophany is thus an endless series of musical moments, of single irreplicable performances. Talmudic arguments are also open, in the sense that every scholar continues them as a musical work whose melodies are never-ending.167

163 Ibid., 5. Roman Ingarden (1893–1970) pointed to the uniqueness of performance. See Roman Ingarden, The Work of Music and the Problem of its Identity, trans. Adam Czemiawski (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1986), 10. 164 Neusner, Judaism’s Theological Voice, 79. 165 Ibid., 11. 166 Ibid., xiii. 167 Ibid., 174. As an example, Neusner refers to Schoenberg’s String Quartet, where melodies seem to be neverending.

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3)  The course of the theophany. Neusner described the theophany as relying on a series of musical images. God sings, gives the Torah (which is song), and, more precisely, God sings to Moses, and Moses sings the Torah to the people of Israel. The people of Israel are the choir that, day and night, sings God’s song. Torah study is also described through musical images: exchanges on talmudic passages are struggles between harmony and disharmony; disputes about tannaitic views can be characterized in musical terms (crescendo, adagio, allegro, and so forth). The Talmud itself is compared to a musical score, which records in succinct and evocative language the live discussions that took place in the beit midrash. The Talmud demands wise readers (chakham u-mevin mi-da`ato—M. Chagigah 2:1) able to understand it by themselves, that is, active readers.168 Talmudic discussions are a continuation of the Oral Law tradition just as a musical score is a basis for a live or recorded performance.169 The study experience is never monotonous, and the study method is itself a form of music. 4)  Adapting the theophany. Neusner held that the theophany is clarified in the light of music because the musical experience represents the integration of the community and the individual. The choir, for instance, is built of many voices, each with its personal tone, but the song is one. The people of Israel also sing in different voices, but the words of the songs, meaning the text of the Torah, are identical: “Just as ballet is physicalized music, so for Judaism theology is sung thought.”170 Only music clarifies the wondrous congruity between the mental, the social, and the emotional dimensions of thetheophany, and singing combines the understanding of the text with its emotional and spiritual internalization.171 Similarly, choir and musical harmony help to clarify the

168 Neusner points to this fact in a comparison between the opening of the Torah and the opening of the Mishnah. The former is clear and transparent—a declaration that God created the universe. The latter, however, requires previous knowledge and an understanding of the legal process (“From what time do they recite the Shem`a in the evening,” Berakhot 1:1). See ibid., 108. 169 Ibid., 73. Ingarden created the distinction between the “schema,” referring to the score or the body of the work formulated in notes, and the “profile,” which is the performance. One schema has many profiles. Furthermore: even if the composer were to play his or her own work several times, the result would be a number of profiles. See Oswald Hanfling, “The Ontology of Art,” in Philosophical Aesthetics: An Introduction (Oxford: Blackwell, 1992), 83. 170 Neusner, Judaism’s Theological Voice, 19. 171 Ibid., 54. Neusner emphasizes several times that the Talmud is closer to singing, including music and words, than to an instrumental work. See, for instance, ibid., 177.

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affinity between the Torah, the giver of the Torah, and the individuals and the community who receive it, an affinity particularly evident in the patterns of thought, where divine logic and human logic meet and fuse. More precisely: God restrains his logic so that it will match human logic.172 Without this matching, theophany would have been impossible. Hence the need for what Neusner called in his book “musical thinking” and “the sounds of thought.” In the theoretical foundations of the conception of revelation in Neusner’s thought, music is the most appropriate metaphor for the revelation theology. In this broad hermeneutical move, God, the people of Israel, and the sages are, respectively, the composer, the audience, and the musicians.173 Neusner’s highest concern, then, is the fourth issue: presenting music as conveying the affinity between the divine and the human, and thus enabling revelation itself as a form of encounter and communication between the human and the divine.

Forms of Transmission and Learning Neusner’s main concern was the Oral Law and its legal and dialectic courses. The talmudic text records the discussion briefly, and the learners are expected to reconstruct it and once again posit the rich and convoluted dialectical arguments that resonated in the beit midrash. They must therefore penetrate the text’s veiled hints, expose its meanings in light of parallel texts (discussions), and be aware of the rabbinic context. In the study of the Oral Law, the scholar (talmid chakham), who can be compared to a musical performer, is largely a partner to the author (composer). Indeed, performers interpret the work according to their taste and judgment and thereby take part in the composition process. Neusner relied in particular on the central role of the performer in early concerti and operas.174 Furthermore, the presentation of the study in the beit midrash as the transmission of the Oral Law is clarified through musical elements.

172 Neusner used the talmudic passages that describe exchanges with the “celestial academy” (metivta de-reki`a) and with God (for example, ibid., 46–47, according to BT Bava Metzia 86a, and the story about the oven of Akhnai, ibid., 48–49, according to BT Bava Metzia 59a–b) to prove the affinity between human and divine reason in the study of Torah. 173 Ibid., 80, 85. 174 Ibid., 85, 139.

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1)  Octave. The talmudic forms of argumentation are the “melody within the melody,” that is, the eight basic sounds used to build the melody. The legal contents can be compared to various melodies.175 2)  Polyphonic music and counterpoint. The various views that make up the tradition of the Oral Law are compared to the simultaneous integration of different voices, each with its own dynamics and melody. 3)  Harmony. The editing of the Talmud and working with the various views raised within it can be compared to the composition of a work for different instruments (or instruments and voices), who all say the same. There are many talmudic arguments but all convey the unity of the law regarding the argument and the character. At times, this principle was formulated as variations on a theme.176 4)  Recitative. The rich texture of the talmudic discourse and its presentation is largely similar to the operatic recitative, which links arias, choral sections, and so forth. The operatic recitative, however, unlike the talmudic discussions, does not always reflect the “burden of the whole.”177 5)  Staccato. The concise talmudic language, which relies on the student’s previous immersion in the relevant material and on active readers’ engagement, can be compared to the fragmented sounds that ultimately come together in a musical phrase.178 The Talmud itself is compared to several melodies played recurrently hundreds of times. Neusner explains that we connect these melodies to moods of joy, exaltedness, or sadness because these melodies are familiar to us. For example, singing Ha-Tikvah, the national anthem, evokes in Jewish residents of the State of Israel feelings of exaltedness and national identification because they know it from having listened to it many times. Similarly, the sages are familiar with talmudic patterns of thought through their previous studies.179 In addition, Neusner used images related to music to present other elements of Jewish religious philosophy and study, such as the relationship between the Written Torah and the Oral Torah (the two modes of divine revelation), the transmission of the Oral Torah, and the discourse prevailing in the beit midrash.

175 176 177 178 179

Ibid., 139–140. Ibid., 175. Ibid., 104–105. Ibid., 115. Ibid., 180.

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Music and Revelation: (2) Substance In the second stage, music is not merely a metaphor but a “theological medium” or an actual theological component.180 Neusner relied on a passage from Tosefta that deals with the importance of memorization in the study of Torah: “R. Akiva says, ‘A song is in me, a song always.’”181 The study is song, and the Torah is the text. God’s voice is heard in various melodies, two of which are the Written and the Oral Law.182 The Torah, then, is a musical work, not only instrumental but also vocal: the singing of words and sentences is one of its fundamental elements: Theology then is not alone sound, not only the union of sounds. Theology says things, theology thinks, theology speaks intelligibly and rationally about God: specifically, what we know about God out of God’s self-manifestation. So we are drawn from the sung theology to identify precisely what that theology is that is sung.183 “Musical thinking” in the context of the theophany is not solely a metaphor. Just as patterns of thinking define rational thought, musicality defines theophanic thought. Furthermore, the permanent revelation in the Oral Law is impossible without musicality. “The oral Torah demands music, not for its metaphor but for its entire realization.”184 Neusner feels ab initio that music is an external factor serving to clarify an existing theological system. Yet, ex post facto, he does not see music as external. It can be said that, throughout the book, Neusner is examining the limits of the metaphor. Almost every topic he discusses touches on the closeness to music as substance. The poetic or sung theology becomes theological poetry. The giving of the Torah and its ongoing study take place through singing. In some sense, Neusner returns to Mendelssohn’s reminder that God had given the Torah with its cantillations and its melodies. “In the intelligent singing of the Torah, oral

180 Ibid., 28. 181 Tosefta Ohalot 16:8 (Zuckermandel ed., 614). In the Babylonian Talmud, the formulation is “Sing it every day, sing it every day” (BT Sanhedrin 99a–b). The discussion in Neusner, Judaism’s Theological Voice, 36. 182 Ibid., 45. 183 Ibid., 53. 184 Ibid., 86.

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and written, we meet God.”185 Without the human singing, the Written and the Oral Torah remain “unrealized.”186 Singing is part of study tradition and of prayer in the synagogue. Thus, a close reading between the lines of Neusner’s book reveals a movement from music as representation to music as substance. Having stated that talmudic literature offers a systematic philosophical conceptual approach, Neusner describes this system as a musical philosophy. The dialogue between the human and the divine becomes possible by virtue of song and melody. For this purpose, Neusner deconstructs the musical situation into its many aspects and painstakingly considers each of them separately—the composer, the score, the melody, the rhythm, the performance, and the audience. The border between study and musical creativity becomes more and more blurred. Neusner’s theological analysis is persuasive: the experience of revelation is described through music and is itself an actual ongoing song.

Summary The novel Fugue by Yehoyakim Stein, an Israeli psychiatrist and a cultural studies scholar, is an ironic critique of institutions for mental health patients. In a dialogue between the head of a psychiatric unit and an anonymous “passerby,” we find that the passerby’s disease is normalcy. He cannot find his wife, and she cannot find him: “I’ll tell you what, you suffer from fugue.” Now he dropped the bomb. “How can you use musical concepts to talk about mental pathology? You surprise me. That’s blasphemous. Do you imagine I suffer when I hear Bach’s fugues? Unless you’re hinting that I suffer from a musical disease. Am I right? “Do you mean musicogenic epilepsy187 or amusia,188 for example?” “I’m not familiar with the dark area of musical pathology. I know it better from its bright side. I don’t care, let it be.”189

185 186 187 188 189

Ibid., 177. Ibid., 200. Denoting epilepsy attacks caused by listening to music. Tone deafness. Yehoyakim Stein, Fugue (Tel Aviv: Gevanim, 2010), 163–164 [Heb].

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In this passage, music becomes a diagnostic tool. The fugue, with its transition of the musical theme to the various voices, can also be presented as the “escape” of the theme from voice to voice. This connotation enables the literary character to refer to a pathological phenomenon through a musical form. This is an interesting literary expression of the transition from music as a tool to music as a symbol and a representation of mental processes, which leads us to a brief summary of the discussion about music as an art. In this chapter, I have considered the conceptual views closest to the presentation of music as an independent realm that does not necessarily serve a religious purpose. In the Middle Ages and the early modern period, the relative independence of music came forth in at least two ways: 1) marginalization of the religious component or lack of direct dependence on it; 2) perception of the musical component as an expression and a representation of sublime and cosmic processes. Music presented mainly the following motifs: 1) harmony in the cosmos, in history, and in the soul (mainly in the philosophical literature); 2) the hidden and concealed layers of the divine worlds (in Kabbalah) These trends were explicitly formulated in the sermons of R. Judah Moscato, the Renaissance man. However, modern thought developed the notion of music as an independent creative and cultural realm. The aesthetic musical experience (listening, composition, and so forth) became an autonomous value, music was included in discussions about aesthetics and its place in the classification of the sciences (Mendelssohn, Maimon, Steinheim, and more).190 The modern lifestyle and its typical cultural and aesthetic climate gave new impulses to developing perceptions of music. Indeed, the perception of music as a representation of ideas was not limited to harmony and spread in new directions. In twentieth-century thought, music represented areas such as: 1) dialogue and the existential and concrete human feature (Rosenzweig); 2) personal misgivings and adopting one’s biography (Hajdu);

190 See above, 82–87.

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3) national ideals (Berdyczewski); 4) theophany and talmudic thought patterns (Neusner). Once, music signified the depths of the divinity and cosmic laws, but now it is used to represent the mysteries of the personality. The perception of music as representation and image ultimately led to its internalization as an essentialist realm, a discipline of independent experiential value. Music is no longer a means for other ends but a substantive element of the religious and aesthetic human experience. Nevertheless, in the conservative religious world, music continues to fulfill its previous role. Religious thought in the modern world still relies largely on music’s instrumental standing.

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Music, Zionism, Religion My focus so far has been on intricate spiritual processes, with the previous chapters presenting a phenomenological and hermeneutical inquiry about the place of the musical component in Jewish thought. But is whatever was valid over centuries of thought also valid today? My discussion dealt with the relationship between music and religion, mainly in a religious milieu. I traced signs of a religious hegemony crumbling and found that the musical motif also characterizes streams in modern religious thought. But what is its place in our era? Is the musical motif still on the margins of religious consciousness or is a breakthrough perhaps evident? To answer this question, we must trace the association between music and modern or postmodern religiosity. This chapter will focus on philosophical texts at the basis of the religious-Zionist idea. The definition of music’s role in religious Zionism is, in a way, a test case of music’s standing in contemporary Orthodoxy. Although religious Zionism operates in the modern world, the weight of conservative religious authorities within it is highly significant, and abstract thought and rabbinic texts play an important role in the shaping of its ethos. My analysis, therefore, will focus on musical aspects in the thought of rabbis and leading figures within religious Zionism and on texts fundamental to the religious-Zionist idea, exploring the cultural and philosophical implications of dimensions related to music. I will examine references to music as a concept and as a product of culture in the thought and action of religious Zionism. These references are few and scattered but, in a way, can be viewed as a preparation for the recent musical renewal. This chapter points to the philosophical and mystical roots of this renewal and will deal with music as an expression of Western culture in the writings of religiousZionist thinkers, particularly in the thought of R. Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook, who inspired many others. Several religious-Zionist thinkers were aware of a musical aspect in their thought and, although not many, their ideas are still central in the ideology of the movement. Moreover, one distinct conceptual circle, uniquely influential

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in religious Zionism, viewed music as a philosophical and mystical key. This group of scholars followed Rav Kook’s ideas. Their circle saw music as a powerful theological tool, raising the aesthetic motif in general, and the musical one in particular, to the top of the philosophical agenda. Before delving into Rav Kook’s thought, I will address the ideas of the founders of the Mizrachi.

Spiritual and Political Leaders The Mizrachi was founded by social and political activists, many of whom were intellectuals. True, they were not philosophers or thinkers in the strict and precise meaning of the term but it is evident that they created an autonomous ideology and a structured religious worldview. Below, I will present several musical aspects in their thought.

Music and Culture Two groups, different in their character and their intentions, emerged at the early stages of the Mizrachi. On the one hand, a group of thinkers who founded the Mizrachi gathered together as a faction in the World Zionist Organization, headed by R. Yitzhak Yaakov Reines and R. Ze’ev Jawitz. These thinkers chose institutionalized cooperation with religious transgressors in order to promote the settlement and building of the Land of Israel. They acknowledged the national awakening and held that the religious framework could be preserved while enlisting in the pursuit of national goals. By contrast, several charismatic thinkers refused to accept this institutionalization process and were unwilling to identify with a secular political movement. They never joined the Mizrachi but heartily supported the Zionist initiative to settle the land and viewed it as one of the stages of redemption. This group was headed by R. Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook. The former group hardly dealt with music in a focused way and some even displayed a negative attitude toward Western music. In the work of R. Ze’ev Jawitz (1847–1924), a historian and educator, music became a historiosophic factor. Jawitz was charged with the writing of religious Zionism’s ideological manifesto. He was an activist, a sharp and incisive thinker and ideologue seeking to write an “alternative” history of the Jewish people, that is, to record the chronicle of the chosen people from a national religious perspective. In this

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spirit, he wrote his multi-volume work, Toldot Israel.1 In Jawitz’s view, the religious renewal promoted by religious Zionism takes place in the context of a struggle to impose Hebrew culture and push Greek culture aside. Jawitz presented Greek culture as a culture of the senses, material and instinctive, and contrasted it with moral and spiritual Jewish culture or, in his terms, “the wisdom of nature” with “the wisdom of God.” The confrontation between Greek and Jewish views was not, for Jawitz, a passing historical episode. As he explained, Greek culture was the source and the foundation of Western culture in general. He was well aware of the vast artistic and aesthetic creativity of the West and provided a spiritual explanation for this phenomenon: the soul, whose source is divine, has spiritual needs and requires, as it were, spiritual “nourishment” to be satisfied. The Western focus on visual sensorial art reflects Greek culture’s desperate attempt to tend to these needs of the soul. Despite sensorial satisfaction, however, “the soul is not filled,”2 nor will the “heart’s needs” be met.3 Jawitz ascribed the cultural awakening of the late Middle Ages and the Renaissance, which included a return to the ancient sources, to a renewed attempt to fill the soul’s needs. I quote him at length below, and will consider his view in light of his aesthetic interpretation of the historical process: When European man awakened from his slumber in the late Middle Ages . . . Greek culture approached his cradle and presented him with images of its amusements. While his eyes were still caught in sleep’s web, it began to sing to him its ancient songs and making new ones in their liking, seeking to rekindle his spirit with the sight of such images as the Appolo Belvedere and the Laocoön it had rescued from the dust, polished and presented to the public to amuse it with the sound of its songs, well attuned to the beauty of its taste. Thus did the ancient taste in song and parable and the ancient craft become a matter of interest to the literature of the times. The passion of the ancient craft diverted the people’s attention to it, which was unfortunate,

1 2 3

See Reuven Michael, Jewish Historiography: From the Renaissance to Modern Times ( Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1993), ch. 10 [Heb]. According to Ecclesiastes 6:7. Ze’ev Jawitz, Collected Writings, ed. Benjamin Klar ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1943), 69 [Heb]. On Jawitz’s view, see Dov Schwartz, Challenge and Crisis in Rabbi Kook’s Circle (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 2002), 226–228 [Heb].

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because its eyes could nourish the appetite of the soul only for moments. The spirit emanating from the pale, cold, and silent marble put no breath in its nostrils,4 and the songs that did not come from its heart or that of its contemporaries and were not attuned to its taste, it found unpleasant. The Japheth sages saw this and added painting to sculpture, which enlivens the work with many colors as well as changing lights and shadows. And beside the writers’ endeavor in the Greek way, which lies still and mute in the pages of ancient books, it also renewed the narrative vision that speaks to the public’s heart with a mighty hand from the theater stage, among them many who were widely celebrated for their wisdom and their profound knowledge, who knew the spirit of man5 in all its variations, which they explained in the vision. The spirit of man, however, did not find its request in them either, and European sages added song, which captivates souls with the poetry of narrative vision, and the melodic song emerged. Thus good taste in painting, and far far more the words of the theater and the talent of narrators and singers, built the contemporary literature.6 Jawitz offered a poetic description of the Renaissance awakening in the following order: 1) poetics, meaning poetry: “it [Greek culture] it began to sing to him its ancient songs and making new ones in their liking”; 2) visuality, meaning sculpture: “seeking to rekindle his [European man’s] spirit with the sight of images such as the Appolo Belvedere7 and the Laocoön it had rescued from the dust”; 3) composition, meaning melody: “to amuse it [the public] with the sound of its songs, well attuned to the beauty of its taste.”8 According to Jawitz’s analysis, however, the new interest in, and imitation of, ancient sensorial art still failed to satisfy people at the time of the Renaissance.

4 According to Isaiah 2:22. 5 According to Ecclesiastes 3:21. 6 Jawitz, Collected Writings, 70. 7 Named after the Vatican gallery where Appolo’s sculpture stands. 8 Jawitz, Collected Writings, 70.

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Consequently, they developed creativity in new directions, hoping to fill the soul. Creative improvement in each field is presented below, with Jawitz changing the order of poetics and visuality: 1) visuality, meaning painting: “[The sages of Japheth, that is, the West] added painting to sculpture, which enlivens the work with many colors as well as changing lights and shadows.” 2) poetics, meaning playwriting: “And besides the writers’ endeavor in the Greek way, which lies still and mute in the pages of ancient books, it [Renaissance culture] also renewed the narrative vision that speaks to the public’s heart with a mighty hand from the theater stage.” 3) composition, meaning opera: “The spirit of man, however, did not find its request in them either, and European sages added song, which captivates souls with the poetry of narrative vision, and the melodic song emerged.”9 For Jawitz, this order reflects degrees of abstraction and quality. He argues that, when painting failed to satisfy the Renaissance artists, they developed the theater, and when the theater no longer fulfilled them, they developed new musical forms. This description implies that music represents the highest level of abstraction and dramatization. This was the reason why the Renaissance people expected it to fill the needs of the soul. Summing up, Jawitz notes: But these did not fill the soul either because, rather than restoring the soul,10 they gave delight to the eyes,11 and even for the hedonists who found enjoyment in the turbid or refined pleasure of the senses, their joy was momentary, only while they engaged in it and, a moment later, its happy sweetness ceased.12 Henceforth, Jawitz’s historiosophic explanation is limited to literature, while music no longer plays a significant role in the development of Western culture. After people became disappointed in all arts, they turned to political philosophy and fiction. But even then, their souls found no rest.

Ibid. The entire passage is cited in Eliezer Steinman, Tsintesenet ha-Man, vol. 2 (Tel Aviv: Moreshet, 1963), 119 [Heb]. 10 According to Psalms 19:8. See also Ruth 4:15. 11 According to Genesis 3:6. 12 Jawitz, Collected Writings, 70. 9

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Jawitz’s starting point in his attitude toward music is negative and suspicious. In his view, music is a creative spiritual attempt that failed. He approaches opera as the culmination of the attempt to fill the soul’s spiritual needs, because it encompasses both visible dramatization and music to listen to. The soul, however, is higher than the experience European aesthetics can provide. Hence, when outlining the future religious-Zionist vision, Jawitz turned to non-musical paths. Viewing literature as the hinge of contemporaneous history, Jawitz called for a renewal of religious literature and poetry. “Nothing is dearer to us than literature expanding in the spirit of our holy Torah.”13 Musical renewal does not play an essential role in Jawitz’s particularistic thought.

Continuity and Change Like Jawitz, Yehuda Leib Hacohen Maimon (Fishman, 1875–1962), a prominent Mizrachi leader and intellectual, emphasized the immanent traditions of the Jewish people as the basis for a future culture, including musical traditions. In his writings, he discussed at length the centrality of biblical and post-biblical poetry in the development of the religious-Zionist idea. In scattered references, he also addressed poetry’s musical imprint. One example is his description of the Jewish community in sixteenthcentury Safed as a preparation, as it were, for the future Zionist settlement. Maimon described the gatherings of Luria’s circle on Sabbath eve and emphasized the singing of his disciples, “who possessed mysterious poetic souls.”14 In his wide-ranging treatise on the Gaon of Vilna, Maimon cites in the Gaon’s name traditions that rely on music.15 As shown below, although Maimon did not address music as an independent creative field, his style shows traces of Rav Kook’s terminology. The connection of Jewish thinkers to music is recurrently mentioned in religious Zionism. The approach of R. Ben-Zion Meir Hai Uziel is worth noting in this context. R. Uziel quotes from Judah Halevi’s well-known poem, “O Zion, will You Not Ask after the Welfare of Your Prisoners,” the famous lines: “To cry for your torment, I am a jackal, And when I dream / of your captives’ return, I

13 Ibid., 73. 14 Yehuda Leib Fishman, Religious Zionism and Its Development ( Jerusalem: WZO, 1937), 217 [Heb]. 15 Yehuda Leib Hacohen Maimon (Fishman), On the Gaon of Vilna, Including Appendices from His Books ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1955), 136 [Heb]. See also above, 119.

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am a lyre for your songs.” Commenting on these lines, R. Uziel writes: “He is the jackal and he is the lyre, given the contraction, in his body and soul, of the Jewish people’s entire past, in all its griefs and sorrows.”16 R. Uziel’s associations are flexible: the lyre represents R. Judah Halevi,17 but also the entire Jewish people. Since song is woven into the history of the Jewish people, the lyre is the appropriate symbol to describe its existence. Jawitz, Maimon, R. Uziel, and their colleagues expected that the religiousZionist activity would lead to the renewal of ancient musical traditions, thus maintaining historical continuity. The messianic expectations of religiousZionist leaders included the renewal of worship in the Temple, including the songs and playing of the Levites. They also expected the return of prophecy, which was linked to nigun. Indeed, the interrelation of music and messianism left their mark on the style and the ideas in religious-Zionist writings. Yonah Ben-Sasson, for example, who headed the Department of Torah Culture at the Ministry of Education, noted: Our generation lives at a time that calls for climbing to the peak of faith (Amana). It is the call to the exiles awaiting redemption and the call to the redeemed to persist in their redemption. From the depths of exile and the sublimity of redemption, the song of prayer will rise out of a belief in the path of truth and attention to the beats of redemption.18 Here, music expresses the need to pray and becomes a part of prayer. The motifs of song and listening are the landmarks of redemption. The messianic expectations tied to a musical revival, however, did not rely on musical continuity regarding the West. Religious-Zionist thinkers did not expect renewal to emerge through an evolutionary process from existing European musical culture. Western music played no significant role in their writing, nor, apparently, in their lifestyle. Jawitz, as noted, was extremely critical of Western musical culture to the point of dismissing it altogether.

16 Ben Zion Meir Hai Uziel, Hegyonei Uziel, vol. 2 ( Jerusalem: Va`ad le-Hotsa`at Kitvei ha-Rav, 1992), 186 [Heb]. 17 See above, 16–18. 18 Yonah Ben-Sasson, “Faith and Art: The Art of Singing as a Reflection of Faith in Prayer,” Dukhan 13 (1991): 14 [Heb].

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Song, Hasidism, and Nationality Gedaliah Bublick,19 one of the founders of the Mizrachi in the United States and its president for several years,20 wrote a series of articles on dominant movements in Jewish history. In the article on Hasidism, Bublick ignored the strong opposition to Zionism prevalent among many of its leaders. Endorsing a romantic approach, he stressed the Hasidim’s love for the people and the Land of Israel. In his view, the key characteristic of Hasidic vitality was music. Bublick argued that, for Hasidism, music is a way of exposing the divine presence as well as the depths of the soul.21 In sum, sound and stillness are the languages that nature uses to expose the divine power within it. “At times, we will find a melodious silence . . . all depending on the disposition . . . and disposition—that is the core and the gist in song.”22 Music characterizes the entire life of the Hasid, the happy moments as well as the sad ones. Moving from the Hasid as an individual to Hasidism as a movement, Bublick wrote: The Hasid lives in two worlds. On the one hand, the Hasid lives in the world of day-to-day concerns and, on the other, the Hasid is lifted on the wings of song to the realm of imagination, to a place where all is pure song, harmony, and eternal happiness. Hasidism is humanity’s most romantic movement and, at the same time, it is also the greatest Jewish national movement since the destruction of the Temple. Why? Because in Hasidism, after the love of God, comes the love of the people of Israel!23 Indirectly, music led to a blurring of concepts and to the development of Bublick’s romantic perspective. Love of Jews and love of the Land of Israel (“no other Jewish movement hated exile as much as Hasidism”)24 turned Hasidism, in his view, into a national movement. The travels of the Hasidim to the Land of Israel exposed the movement’s “national roots.”25 Many Hasidic leaders strongly

19 See above, 161–162. 20 See under “Bublick, Gedaliah,” in Encyclopaedia of Religious Zionism, ed. Yitzhak Raphael, vol. 1 ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1958), 243–246 [Heb]. 21 On the pneumatic perception of music in Hasidism, see above, ch. 5. 22 Gedaliah Bublick, Selected Writings, ed. A. L. Gelman and Aharon Pachenick ( Jerusalem: Committee for Gedaliah Bublick’s Writings, 1962), 35 [Heb]. 23 Ibid., 37. 24 Ibid., 40. 25 Ibid., 41.

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opposed human initiative, that is, the nation’s right to redeem itself from exile, but human initiative s the foundation of the national awakening. Music, however, which conveys feelings, brings closer those who are far. The singing in Hasidism and the value of the nigun turn it, according to Bublick, into a national movement. His descriptions are a further expression of the value of national unity,26 which religious-Zionist thought interpreted metaphysically, This value helped Bublick to develop his positive view of Hasidism.

Music and Preaching R. Yitzhak Nissenbaum (1868–1942), another one of the Mizrachi founders, long supported the movement from the outside because he believed he would have more influence as a member of the general Zionist Organization, and joined the Mizrachi only toward the end of World War I. R. Nissenbaum was among the “preachers of Zion,” a term used to refer to itinerant preachers who went from city to city to spread the Zionist idea.27 Nissenbaum held that preaching and singing have an essential historical connection. At the opening of one of his books, he proclaimed that “preaching, in its limited meaning of a sermon at the synagogue, is the spiritual legacy of prophecy and holy singing as embodied in Scripture.”28 For Nissenbaum, prophecy and biblical song reflect an experience of immediacy and vitality just as the piyyut reflects an acoustic sensorial experience. He argued that sermons had been an integral part of the prayer service at the synagogue but “for various reasons, which have not been properly studied so far, sermons were dismissed from synagogue worship and prayer . . . and were replaced with piyyutim.”29 Nissenbaum, then, created a historical and thematic structure: biblical song and prophecy were replaced by sermons, and sermons were replaced by piyyutim. Sermons and piyyutim both rely on midrashim. To some extent, Nissenbaum stated that the public absorbed midrashic teachings more successfully when they are tied to music, and sermon was anchored in sound.

26 See Dov Schwartz, Faith at the Crossroads: A Theological Profile of Religious Zionism, trans. Batya Stein (Leiden: Brill, 2002), 21–22. 27 See idem, The Land of Israel in Religious Zionist Thought (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 1997), ch. 3 [Heb]. 28 Yitzhak Nissenbaum, Hagut ha-Lev (Vilnius, 1911), 5 [Heb]. 29 Ibid., 10.

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Another Mizrachi activist, R. Simon Jacob Glicksberg (1870–1950), served as a rabbi in Odessa and, later in life, as a rabbi and head of a rabbinic tribunal in Tel Aviv.30 He dealt at length with preaching both in his official capacities and in his writing. In his volume on the history of preaching, he discussed at length R. Judah Moscato’s sermon on music (which states that “the space of the world is full of nigun melodies”31) and alluded to R. Yitzhak Arama’s sermon Nigun ha-Olam.32 Glicksberg’s book is a methodological work where he discusses the basic characteristics of preaching, including the musical style of delivery. This style is not an essential component of the sermon and its aim is to draw the listeners’ attention. “There are many preachers who try to attract the public’s attention with musical elements. They do not convey their ideas as do speakers, clearly and moderately, but stretch their voice in song and turn the sermon into a kind of melody.”33 His reference here is to the maggidim, meaning the Hasidic itinerant preachers such as, most famously, the Maggid of Dubno and the Maggid of Mezeritch.34 Glicksberg was implicitly and explicitly critical of preachers who delivered their sermons with tunes. In contrast to the musical traditions in the study of the Mishnah and the Gemara, where the recitative was intended as an aid to memory, music served no purpose in preaching: “The wise and the learned always disparaged the coupling of preaching and melody.”35 Glicksberg knew that, for popular audiences, the nigun helps to internalize the preacher’s messages, but he advised the preacher endorsing this method “to beware of renouncing the sermon’s content by favoring the nigun and placing it at the

30 See under “Glicksberg, Simon Jacob,” in Encyclopaedia of Religious Zionism, ed. Yitzhak Raphael, vol. 1 ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1958), 536–539. 31 Ibid., 169. 32 See Simon Jacob Glicksberg, The Sermon in Israel: The Essence of the Hebrew Sermon from Antiquity to the Present (Tel Aviv: n. p., 1940), 168–170 [Heb]. 33 Simon Jacob Glicksberg, The Sermon: Rules, Content, and Form (Tel Aviv: Mosad Harav Kook, 1948), 76 [Heb]. 34 The maggidim used parables in their sermons and it is therefore clear why Glicksberg tied them together in his comment (“the pleasant nigun or the appropriate parable”). The activity of the maggidim has not been exhaustively researched even until today. Scholars attached it to movements such as Sabbateanism or Hasidism, though solid evidence showing that itinerant preachers were among the founders or propagators of these movements has not always been available. See Zeev Gries, “The Definition of Sabbatian Hagiographic Literature,” in The Dream and its Interpretation: The Sabbatean Movement and Its Aftermath—Messianism, Sabbatianism and Frankism, ed. Rachel Elior, vol. 2 ( Jerusalem: Hebrew University Press, 2001), 361, note 33 [Heb]. 35 Glicksberg, The Sermon: Rules, Content, and Form, 78.

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center. When the beautiful nigun or the striking parable become the core of the sermon, they begin by stimulating the senses and end in boredom and emptiness in the listeners’ hearts.”36 In the footnote concluding the chapter, however, Glicksberg rejected the musical sermon altogether. Glicksberg’s discussion exposes the principle of music as temptation.37 As he explains, music attracts the listener and might divert attention from the ethical and intellectual content of the sermon. He also feared overemphasizing the musical dimension and its sliding into habit and routine. Interestingly, his sharp criticism may be the evidence of this phenomenon’s existence, that is, of music’s penetration into the realm of preaching. R. Zeev Gold (1889–1956), a Mizrachi activist in the United States and in the Land of Israel, wrote several chapters on preaching as an introduction to his large volume on sermons, Nivei Zahav. He ascribed the effectiveness of the prophets’ admonishments to their preaching style. In his view, “the people are sometimes ready to hear even rebukes and remonstrations if the prophet is an outstanding orator and a wonderful speaker ‘with a beautiful voice who plays well on an instrument’ (Ezekiel 33:32).”38 Religious Zionism saw a revival of preaching and discussions about public speaking. On the one hand, religious Zionists needed to enlist people in support of their ideas. On the other hand, the discussion about the techniques of preaching was part of the conversation about the return of prophecy and messianic hopes. In both cases, public speech was described as linked to special tones and melodies.

Summary Several views of music in religious-Zionist thought have been discussed so far. The allusions to music and singing are isolated and scattered, in a way attesting to the limited interest in musical motifs in national religious thought, and references to them are marginal. For religious Zionism, the national renewal and the feeling of redemption did not necessarily bring with them a musical awakening. This impression, however, changes dramatically when we move on to discuss the thought of R. Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook and that of his disciples-colleagues. Several members of his circle vigorously strove to

36 Ibid., 79. See also ibid., 101. 37 See above, 76–80. 38 Zeev Gold, Nivei Zahav ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1949), 12 [Heb].

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formulate a philosophy of music, which became a dominant component of their worldview. Rav Kook’s thought is a significant chapter in the development of the musical motifs in Jewish thought in general and in religious-Zionist thought in particular.

Rav Kook: Music and Knowledge Religious-Zionist thought formulated the idea that poetry and song express the unique historical and conceptual course of the Jewish people.39 I have already discussed the special place of terms related to song and piyyut in the representation of the emanation processes in Rav Kook’s thought.40 But more than that, music plays an essential role in his conceptual intuitions. The musical motif in Rav Kook’s thought is, in many regards, a philosophical link that unites different realms and many scattered passages. Furthermore, I claim that his metaphysical, ontological, and epistemological orientations are unintelligible without understanding the role of the musical motif. Poets sensed the role that poetry played in his writings;41 scholars wrote about the role of poetry and song in his thought,42 and some dwelt specifically on his attitude to art and aesthetics.43 All of them hardly noted the decisive weight of music in conveying poetry and of music per se in Rav Kook’s thought. Often, however, Rav Kook characterized the poem using words such as “song” and nigun and other acoustic terms (hearing, listening, rhythm—the order of sounds—and harmony). The use of terms from piyyut adds associations with sound and performance. I will argue

39 See, for example, the chapter “The Song of Israel with Its Lyre” (section 32), in Uziel, Hegyonei Uziel, vol. 2, 180–202. 40 See above, 203–208. 41 Abraham Regelson (1896–1981), poet and essayist, wrote an article about “Rav Kook’s poetic perspective.” Although Regelson noted that Rav Kook’s poetic language and his unique style have a musical character, he commented no further on music’s place in Rav Kook’s endeavor. 42 See, for example, the profound analysis of Yosef Ben Shlomo, “The Song of Life”: On the Teachings of Rav Kook (Tel Aviv: Ministry of Defense, 1989), 21–23 [Heb]. 43 Zvi Yaron, The Philosophy of Rav Kook, trans. Avner Tomaschoff ( Jerusalem: WZO, 1991), ch. 8; Yehuda Gelman, “‘Aesthetics’ in Rav Kook’s Writings,” in Yovel Orot: The Thought of R. Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook, ed. Benjamin Ish-Shalom and Shalom Rosenberg ( Jerusalem: WZO, 1985), 159–168 [Heb]; Binyamin Zvieli, “Rav Kook and His Attitude to Literature and Art,” in In His Light: On the Endeavor of R. Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook and on Its Transmission, ed. Hayim Hamiel ( Jerusalem: WZO, 1986), 518–527; Hagi Ben-Artzi, The New Shall Be Sacred: Rav Kook as an Innovative Posek (Tel Aviv: Miskal, 2010), 87–95 [Heb].

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that, according to Rav Kook, the musical motif is what enables knowledge of the highest order. More precisely, the musical motif shapes both the ontology and the various epistemologies. It conditions, however, the highest form of knowledge.

Background Rav Kook’s perceptions of music are important for understanding his thought. Rav Kook can be viewed as an “aestheticist” in the sense that, for him, aesthetics, and music in particular, is not limited to a specific realm but is a key for the understanding of existence. His perception of music is largely an echo of two conceptual events in the cultural world that evoked his interest. The connection between them can be viewed as reflecting a development, even though they were concurrent. 1) In post-Kantian philosophy, aesthetics and art are, along with science, a mode of grappling with the metaphysical and the transcendent. Even in Hermann Cohen’s radical version of epistemic idealism, art is one of culture’s expressions and, like all cultural realms, is constructed by reason. Arthur Schopenhauer offers an extreme version of this tendency regarding music. In his view, music embodies “the thing in itself,” meaning the will, in its purest form. Rather than a copy of the phenomenon, music is a copy of the will itself. The world—which also embodies the will—is reflected in music, even though music will exist even if we do not assume the world’s existence in any way. Schopenhauer compared music to numbers and geometric figures, “which are the universal forms of all possible objects of experience.” Music is interpretation, which discloses the “most secret meaning” of every event.44 Richard Wagner and Theodor Adorno also endorsed these radical views of music.45 2) Aesthetics and art replace the previous philosophical and metaphysical foci of continental philosophy. In David Ohana’s view, this replacement of ethics with aesthetics was the key to understanding European

44 Arthur Schopenhauer, The World as Will and Representation, trans. E. F. J. Payne, vol. 1 (New York: Dover, 1969), 262. 45 Ruediger Safranski, Schopenhauer and the Wild Years of Philosophy, trans. Ewald Osers (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1987), 343.

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political radicalism.46 Allan Megill defined such an outlook as a tendency to view “art,” “language,” “discourse,” or “text” as constitutive components of the human experience.47 Music played a significant role in this cultural phenomenon, and Rav Kook’s connection to Nietzsche in this context is discussed at length below. Scholars of aesthetics viewed art as penetrating into the inner dimension of life.48 In the cultural atmosphere of Rav Kook’s times, aesthetics was a powerful means of expression. Although Rav Kook had probably not read contemporary philosophical texts in the original, he certainly studied the late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century Hebrew journals where they were discussed. Added to these cultural developments in the Gentile surroundings were others, characteristic of the Jewish world, such as the central role of the nigun in Hasidic thought,49 which are also discussed briefly below. The musical aspect in Rav Kook’s works may be one of the peaks of Jewish thought in general and of religious-Zionist philosophy in particular. I will now examine several implications of music for Rav Kook’s philosophy, focusing on its current relevance, and thereby also point out its pertinence to religious-Zionist thought. At first glance, the concern with music is only one aspect of Rav Kook’s interest in aesthetics, the arts, and their role in modern life. As shown below, however, music is also a fundamental layer of his thought, tracing both its scope and its borders. At times, music motifs emerge in concentrated form in a series of passages in Rav Kook’s reflections—as, for example, at the opening of the last of the eight compilations (Shemonah Kevatsim)—and at times it disappears. I will not trace the development of the musical motif according to the order of its appearance in his writings, since that is a topic for independent study. My discussion will give a general outline of the musical substrate in Rav Kook’s thought. Rav Kook often used poetic terms and frequently resorted to distinctly musical terminology. Many times he revealed his view that poetry, piyyut, song, and nigun, meaning the musical dimensions of poetry, cannot be separated. One consequence of this association is that he uses terms related to music to define

46 David Ohana, The Nihilist Order, vol. 1: The Dawn of Political Nihilism (Eastbourne: Sussex Academic Press, 2009). 47 Alan Megill, Prophets of Extremity: Nietzsche, Heidegger, Foucault, Derrida (Berkeley, LA and London: University of California Press, 1985), 2. 48 Erich Neumann, “Art and Time,” in Man and Time: Papers from the Eranos Yearbooks, ed. Joseph Campbell, vol. 3 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press 1957), 17. 49 See above, 187–188, 202–203.

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poetry. In a famous letter he wrote to Chaim Nahman Bialik on the occasion of Bialik’s first visit to the Land of Israel (1909), Rav Kook strongly exhorted him: “Our beloved poet, sing henceforth about the salvation of a nation (goy) and its God,50 awake your lyre,51 full of strength and gentleness, to sing for us the song of the land, the song of resurgence.”52 In his view, then, the melody (“lyre”) and the poem are one and the same. This approach will recur in Rav Kook’s conceptual passages, and I will consider its implications.

Beyond Reason Rav Kook adopted a kind of vitalistic approach, recognizing an immanent lively dimension of existence.53 In his writings, this dimension is expressed in the vitality and motility of music. Rav Kook, however, diverts the aesthetic discussion to the epistemological realm: poetry and music convey and represent, above all, an epistemic and experiential approach to the deep, inner, and infinite realm, which is beyond rationality and the scientific thought. This realm is dynamic and fluid and, as such, cannot be conveyed through the language of reason and thought. The realm beyond knowledge reflects the divine presence and the heavenly vitality teeming within natural and human reality.54 In this sense, Rav Kook gave theoretical and philosophical expression to the Hasidic conceptual approach that emphasizes divine immanence. Although Hasidic thought was not the first system to present the notion of an inner divine presence, it did turn it into a central concept, the linchpin and the crossroads for an encounter with other ideas. For Rav Kook, rational knowledge is unable to conceive the flowing divine presence and he refers to the realm transcendent to knowledge

50 According to II Samuel 7:23. 51 According to Psalms 57:9 and 108:3. 52 Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook, Iggerot ha-Re’ayah, vol. 1 ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1962), 248 [Heb]. See also Adaya Hadar, “A Note on the Musical Concepts in Rav Kook’s Thought and Their Origins,” Religious Zionism: History, Thought, Society 6 (2021) [Heb]. 53 For an attempt to compare Rav Kook’s vitalistic approach to that of A. D. Gordon, see Sara Strassberg-Dayan, Individual, Nation, and Mankind: The Conception of Man in the Teachings of A. D. Gordon and R. Abraham Hacohen Kook (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 1995), 75 [Heb]. 54 The view that scientific knowledge is limited and that there is a realm stretching beyond its power is discussed at length in Benjamin Ish-Shalom, Rav Avraham Itzhak HaCohen Kook: Between Rationalism and Mysticism, trans. Ora Wiskind-Elper (Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1993), ch. 1.

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(and immanent to natural reality) as holy (kodesh).55 Some of the substantive, literary, and formal elements of the holy are the following: 1) the holy conveys a realm beyond rationality, though not necessarily opposed to it; 2) the holy refers to the theosophical level described in kabbalistic literature (the sefirot and the emanation);56 3) the holy is parallel to the Kantian “thing in itself ”;57 4) the holy relates to the inner, dynamic, and vital dimension of reality (“life”); 5) the holy mirrors the divine presence in existence; 6) the holy is the totality and cannot be broken up into details; 7) the holy is perceived as hidden content. For Rav Kook, poetry and music represent ways of knowing and perceiving the holy—intuitive, spontaneous, and mystical contemplation, mainly of symbols and representations, rather than rational knowledge. Symbolic knowledge, which is described in poetic and musical terms, has the power to penetrate the hidden layer of reality. We know from mystical literature that this concealed realm can usually be conveyed only through symbols.58 At times, poetry and

55 I will not enter into a precise definition of the holy, which remains controversial among scholars. Instead, I present a series of features without any pretension to exhaust the issue. Moreover, the term transcendent relates only to logic and rational thinking. At times, the content that is beyond reason is indeed the immanent content—divine presence and so forth. See below. 56 See, for example, Joseph Avivi, “History as a Divine Prescription,” in Rabbi Mordechai Breuer Festschrift: Collected Papers in Jewish Studies, vol. 2, ed. Moshe Idel et al. ( Jerusalem: Hebrew University Press, 1992), 709–711; idem, “Introduction to Lurianic Kabbalah,” Or Chadash 13 (2011): 16–32 [Heb]. 57 Like many religious-Zionist thinkers, Rav Kook also related to “the thing in itself ” as an actual ontological realm rather than as a borderline term merely conveying the limits of knowledge. See, for example, Schwartz, Faith at the Crossroads, chs. 2 and 3. 58 In Rav Kook’s thought, “poetry” parallels “mysteries of wisdom.” See Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook, notebook Rishon le-Yafo, 110, 1, in his Kevatsim mi-Ktav Yad Kodsho, vol. 1 ( Jerusalem: Machon Ginzei ha-Re’ayah, 2006), 143 [Heb]. This passage does not appear in the parallel edition, Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook, Kitvei ha-Re’ayah, notebook 13 ( Jerusalem, 2004). Moreover, the “concealed” requires attention and a listening capability. See Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook, notebook 5, 58, in his Kevatsim mi-Ktav Yad Kodsho, vol. 2 ( Jerusalem: Machon Ginzei ha-Re’ayah, 2008), 158 [Heb].

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music also characterize the realm that is beyond reason and not just the access to it, and at times they represent a fusion of rationalism and mysticism.59 For Rav Kook, however, music is, above all, an epistemological and contemplative representative tool. Here, we see a distinction between him and the Hasidic sources preceding him. Hasidic thinkers sought experiences in the concealed realm. Conjunction with the divine presence was their highest goal. In contrast, Rav Kook strove, above all, for knowledge of the holy. In Hasidism music is primarily a way of uniting with the hidden, whereas for Rav Kook it has a clear-cut epistemological value. In Rav Kook’s writings, poetry and music represent the activity of pure feeling, “poetic (shirati) feeling,”60 and they also convey an aesthetic dimension of the epistemic approach and the conscious experience. In the wake of Kant in Critique of Judgment, and resembling philosophers who sided with various forms of idealism (such as Schelling and Hermann Cohen), Rav Kook too held that the aesthetic dimension is amenable to philosophical discussion, to its definitions and its schematism.61 Aesthetics characterizes the entity and the perception and, therefore, can be a subject of positive discussion. Rav Kook was probably also influenced by thinkers who presented cognitive theories of art, such as Schopenhauer and Schelling.62 These thinkers turned aesthetics into an important component of their philosophical conceptions. Traces of Nietzsche’s approach to music, who strongly contested the cognitive view of art, are also evident in Rav Kook’s discussions. Rav Kook, as noted, used aesthetic-musical criteria for a dual purpose: 1) defining ontological and moral values; 2) setting a course for knowledge or experience of these values. The main functionality of music is its use as a metaphor for knowledge. The realm that Rav Kook referred to as holy is characterized by the very fact of

59 See, for example, Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim ( Jerusalem, 1999), 1:602 (vol. 1, 192) [Heb]. 60 Ibid., 6:116 (vol. 3, 41) [Heb]. 61 See, for example, Aaron Kollender, Transcendental Beauty ( Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 2001) [Heb]. 62 See, for example, Shalom Rosenberg, “Rav Kook and the Blind Crocodile (The Holy Lights and Schopenhauer’s Teachings)” in In His Light: On the Endeavor of R. Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook and on Its Transmission, ed. Hayim Hamiel ( Jerusalem: WZO, 1986), 317–352; Avinoam Rosenak, Prophetic Halakhah: Rabbi A. I. H. Kook’s Philosophy of Halakhah ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2007) [Heb].

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being sung. Occasionally, he used the term harmony to refer to balance in the realm beyond thought, again attesting to the musical dimension of poetry. The voice, the singing, and the sound reflect what transcends human logic as well as the way of accessing it. Several times, Rav Kook presented a scheme of gradual emanation or development: the core that cannot be expressed in thought, the holy, finds symbolic representation in poetry and nigun, and when it develops or descends and is realized, it can be expressed in thought and language. Alternately, when spiritual understanding transcends, it turns into poetry and nigun. Considered below are the representative passages directly related to knowledge and the soul: Poetry is the most penetrating, the most inward grasp, of the depths of the concept’s essence, of its inner content, what is absolutely inaccessible to the prosaic grasp.63 . . . The wholehearted feeling that enters the depths of the soul, that is hidden in the clefts of life,64 whose literal outburst cannot be expressed in words but only in the regulated vocal movements from which song (zemer) comes.65 . . . Our inner spiritual movements are a result of the same sighs uttered by our soul lyre when it listens to the resonance of the supreme emanation. Although we will never know what are the issues the supreme instance deals with, nor break them up, and certainly not sum them up or allocate them, we nevertheless listen overall and hear sounds,66 even though we do not hear clear and separate words. All our Torah and intellectual toil only aim to recognize, in the supreme voice constantly beating in our inner ear, clarifications that we might present to ourselves and to others in a way that leads to action and ordered, disciplined study.67

63 Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 1:165 (vol. 1, 67). 64 See Jeremiah 49:16; Ovadiah 1:3; Song of Songs 2:14. 65 Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook, Olat Re’ayah ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1963), vol. 1, 186 [Heb]. 66 According to Deuteronomy 4:12, which contrasts voice with sight (“you heard the sound of words, but saw no form; there was only a voice”). Rav Kook, however, contrasts the melody (“soul lyre”) with speech (“clear and separate words”). The melody is what reflects the divine revelation in the soul. 67 Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 8:15 (vol. 3, 247).

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The inner dimension of the soul is described in these passages as a melodic voice, indivisible and unquantifiable, and as a vibrant lively realm that cannot be translated into terms of reason. The constantly changing life of the soul is not an object of intellectual analysis. We sense and perceive the inner dimension intuitively, and this perception is merely the experience of the concealed. Our experience becomes a kind of knowledge, which music defines. At the same time, however, Rav Kook argued that we can map the inner dimension of life (“clarifications”), speak of it using symbols, and turn the symbolization of the processes occurring within it into moral and behavioral power. For this task of mapping and order, we must enlist logical and scientific thought, but the realm of the soul’s inner life itself transcends reason. The flow of sounds (without words) conveys the realm of the holy because it is a pure aesthetic and experiential expression that resists analytic description. The introduction to this flow and the way to know it is only through poetry, song, and nigun. On the one hand, music is indeed a metaphor, but on the other, its purity may be construed as an actual means for knowledge of the concealed. At times, poetry represents the way of experiencing the concealed, and music the concealed itself. For Rav Kook, then, music metaphors at times represent ontological values and at times epistemic ones. In the above passages, the inner realm is reflected in music as a pure aesthetic realm (content) and the way to access this realm is also through music (knowledge). The musical and acoustic metaphors are presented in the table below:

the metaphor (1) speech, prose (2) poetry (3) music without poetry

Table 168 the entity the visible world — hidden divine emanation: (1) in the soul (awakening from below) (2) in the divinity (awakening from above)68

the epistemic access reason ordered symbolic knowledge experience

68 The passages above presented the spiritual aspect (theurgy and communion) while the divine dimension (emanation) is discussed below.

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Music expresses the concealed holy. The poetry and song motifs represent the different aspects of the holy, for example, faith,69 the depths of the soul,70 the whole (contrary to the individual parts),71 and the intra-divine emanation processes,72 which also mark the division between sacred and profane. Rav Kook frequently presented “logic” and “poetry” as two parallel modes of content and understanding. Logic relates to the rational realm, and poetry, to the transcendent one.73 At times, Rav Kook also distinguished “science”— meaning the rational and analytical perception of the secular realm—from “poetry,” which is the aesthetic and intuitive perception of the sacred realm.74 Finally, poetry is contrasted with nature, which the scientific perspective presents as a series of laws and quantifications. In other words, nature becomes a still-life picture of an existence full of vitality and divine presence. Rav Kook chose this motif for his own biography: I fully and passionately yearn to worship God, a supreme holy worship over and above any law of nature. I wish to introduce into the whole of nature the light of divine idealism imbuing the passion of the Holy of Holies (kodesh ha-kodashim). I commune with each perek shirah, with all the singers, in every entity that rises in song and transcends in song, crowning the glory and praising Chay ha-Olamim (who lives in all worlds) with majesty and splendor,75 blessed is He, and blessed is His name.76

69 See Kook, notebook Rishon le-Yafo, 13 (notebook 13:15, in his Kevatsim mi-Ktav Yad Kodsho, vol. 1, 83). Cf. Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 8:85 (vol. 3, 74), 179 (302). 70 See above. One representative passage is the following: “Just as we speak of the wisdom of the soul in psychology, through the song and the piyyut of the depths of inner contemplation, and in science through its outer appearances in life, so do we speak about divine emanation as the soul of existence through the poetic contemplation of the holy spirit in the inner light, and through divine science in the appearance of the orders, the deeds, and the visions in the vessels” (Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 1:408 [vol. 1, 136]). In Rav Kook’s symbolism, poetry characterizes the limitlessly emanating lights, and science—the vessels absorbing the lights. 71 “Because the pleasantness of poetry overcomes everything, and blurs all the individual parts with the sweetness of its brilliance” (Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 1:206 [vol. 1, 82]). 72 See above, 203–208. 73 See, for example, Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 7:170 (vol. 3, 218). 74 See, for example, ibid., 4:27 (vol. 2, 141). 75 According to the piyyut Ha-Aderet ve-ha-Emunah. See Meir Bar-Ilan, The Mysteries of Jewish Prayer and Hekhalot (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 1987), 16–18 [Heb]. 76 Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 8:127 (vol. 3, 283).

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The perek shirah represents the inner order of existence, dominated by the divine presence and the emanation that sustain the natural order.77 Understanding the natural order as song, Rav Kook seeks communion with the inner will of every creature and its concealed divine drive. Ontologically, poetry conveys what is hidden in existence, and in the religious domain, poetry and song reflects the emotional experience that is anchored in a solid worldview. Unsystematic formulations are inconsistent and, at times, might reveal a dialectic. This applies to music terms that, usually, represent the inner dimension (“life”). However, Rav Kook repeatedly argued that a hidden and dynamic divine presence drives the visible reality. Sometimes, for him, poetry and song represent both the external superficial reality and the vital internal dimension that drives it. Rav Kook used the term world soul (nishmat ha-olam)78 to convey this internal presence. He further claimed that, before the destruction of the Temple, the external song had joined the internal one and reality had usually been united, bringing together the superficial external shell and the hidden internal content. Following the destruction, however, the outside-inside balance was disturbed, as the terms of poetry and song describe: The superficial singers from outside can bring delight, gladness, and song to the outer chambers,79 strength and joy80 will always be found. But in the mystery of the inner existence are darkness and weeping. All the outside beautifications and embellishments bring no consolation and only one demand exists there—for the light of life in the emanation of the inner creation, for a world order full of abundance, sated,81 from its very start, with eternal inner joy by the mystery of its existence and its end. There, consolation comes from an inner source of the deepest inwardness that no eye has seen.82 That is indeed the

77 Above, 159–160, I considered the magic dimensions of drawing the emanation through a perek shirah. 78 See M. Z. Sole, “The Monotheistic Outlook in His Thought,” in Ha-Rea’yah: On the Teachings of R. Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook on the Thirtieth Anniversary of His Death ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1966), 89 [Heb]; Eliezer Goldman, Expositions and Inquiries: Jewish Thought in Past and Present, ed. Avi Sagi and Daniel Statman ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1996), 222–223 [Heb]. 79 In the original, be-vatei baraei, according to BT Chagigah 5b. 80 According to I Chronicles 16:27. 81 See, for example, Jeremiah 31:13; the “Magen Avot” prayer in the Sabbath evening prayer. 82 According to Isaiah 64:3.

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source of joy, amusement, and gladness, far more than all the other outside songs under all the heavens.83 Rav Kook used terms related to music to convey the kabbalistic view that the destruction of the Temple split the divine world into above and below. Or he may have described the torments of the soul in light of the partial, lacking reality since the soul’s peace and serenity is only in completeness. My concern, however, is with Rav Kook’s use of the musical metaphor. The aesthetic dimension of reality’s unity and completeness describes joy, while separation and partiality imply lamentation and mourning. According to Rav Kook, the (outside) musical performance does not necessarily reflect the inner sound, just like its effect (true joy) does not reflect the inner occurrences (sadness). The external and internal sounds can be joined only through the unity of outside and inside. Music, then, reflects the idea of unity. For Rav Kook, the holy is represented in poetry and, alternately, true poetry can represent only the holy. “Poetry must be holy, divine, full of kindness [chesed] and grace. Heretical poetry does not exist.”84 The reason is that the source of poetry is in revelation and emanation from a supreme source. “Song is the source of wisdom [chokhmah]. It comes through appearance, through the drawing of kindness [chesed] from the quality of the soul, which wisdom follows to state its details.”85 In this description, song represents the emanation of the sefirah of chesed. Rational thought (chokhmah, which here refers to scientific human knowledge) maps out and symbolizes the realm of the holy and its processes, and thereby applies analytical detailed thought to the transcendent, but the content of the holy cannot be subject to rational analysis. The aesthetic level, then, represents access to what is higher than the rational level. At times, one who is not driven by reason may be more capable of grasping—or, more precisely, sensing or intuitively perceiving—the transcendent. Rav Kook characterized intellectuals and Torah scholars by “attentiveness” and “deep utterance,” while describing the “feverish intensity of the

83 Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 6:210 (vol. 3, 81). 84 Ibid., 3:308 (vol. 2, 110). See also ibid., 2:10 (vol. 1, 296). Elsewhere, Rav Kook wrote that “the supreme mysterious light of Israel” can only be revealed through “song and allegory” (ibid., 2:320, [vol. 1, 393]). The allegory conveys the concealed layer, which is revealed through the symbol. See Yosef Ben-Shlomo, “The Sacred and the Profane in R. Kook’s Philosophy,” in Rivkah Shatz-Uffenheimer Memorial Volume, ed. Rachel Elior and Yosef Dan, Jerusalem Studies in Jewish Thought 13 (1996): 495–524 [Heb]. 85 Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 8 (vol. 3, 282).

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young” as “joyful feeling and song.”86 Joy and passion (“life’s joys, the urges of every heart”) are also the source of creativity in the song and the poem. The young “sense” the inner and dynamic divine life, and music conveys this sense. Indirectly, the implication is that the attentiveness and depth of scholars and intellectuals focus on the work of the young and emotional authors. Ultimately, religious wholeness, and possibly even redemption, is attained through the whole. In other words, the combination of authors and listeners is the peak of religious life. The place of music in the structure of knowledge and experience according to Rav Kook is presented in Table 2.

the source of knowledge the knowing agent (psychological) the way of knowledge metaphors

the content of knowledge

Table 2 rational knowledge reason intellect discursive music (external song) concepts

knowledge of the holy revelation (appearance) emanation emotion, inner certainty intuitive music (song, poetry, sound, and harmony) the realm beyond the concepts (metaphysics, divinity, the tree of emanation)

Usually, rational knowledge does not require metaphors to clarify its course of action. The mechanisms of reason are investigated in depth by philosophers and psychologists and, in many ways, can be viewed as open to all. Rav Kook himself showed interest in epistemological approaches in contemporary philosophy. By contrast, knowledge of the holy can only be described through metaphor and symbol, which are the terms of music. Knowledge of the transcendent, then, resorts to metaphorical means from the aesthetic realm, which rational knowledge does not usually require.

86 Ibid., 5:235 (vol. 2, 315).

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We find then, that Rav Kook sought to enter that inner, broad, and free layer that reason cannot penetrate. To convey the limits of reason, he also used Kant’s critical thought, whose basic assumption was that knowledge of the thing in itself is impossible. Rav Kook, however, held that this limitation applies to reason but not to other modes of knowledge. Music is indeed, above all, a metaphor. But its role does not end here. Not in vain is metaphor taken from a realm such as music, which is also a special sensorial way of expression and includes both experience and intuition. What cannot be thoroughly described in words can be experienced in singing and playing. The metaphor interfaces with the actual experience. Rav Kook’s aim was to listen to the sounds of the song of life and expose the hidden and vital layer at the basis of psychological and ontological reality. In his writings, however, there is an even higher aspiration—the full union of the rational and the suprarational (the musical). Full apprehension of reality combines the external and internal dimensions of life, “all the conditions of thought and emotion, all the modes of song and speech.”87

Nietzschean Models The view that music conveys the inner vital dimension of life, meaning the active divine presence, has deep Hasidic roots. Rav Kook saw as a special mission to expose this dimension uniting various epistemic and cultural realms, and contemporary philosophy was for him a significant field in this regard. He therefore resorted to Spinoza, Kant, Schopenhauer, and other thinkers, implicitly seeking to point out how various dimensions in their thought are coextensive with esotericism. The association of creativity and knowledge appears in a series of thinkers who influenced Rav Kook. He was certainly acquainted with the Neoplatonic model that identifies the “One,” heading the pyramid of existence, with beauty. Moreover, Rav Kook engaged in a discourse with nineteenth- and twentieth-century philosophical approaches. For example, he contended with the challenge posed by Henri Bergson, whose dynamic model integrated intuitive knowledge and emotional creativity. Worth noting in particular is the parallel to Nietzsche’s model of the Apollinian-Dionysiac connection, as described in The Birth of Tragedy: Out of the Spirit of Music. This work, as we know, was inspired by the meeting with Wagner and with historians such as

87 Ibid., 5:175 (vol. 2, 279).

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Jacob Burckhardt, as well as by reading Schopenhauer. At least two Nietzschean principles deserve mention in the context of Rav Kook’s philosophy. 1) Nietzsche interpreted history in what Walter Kaufmann called a “suprahistorical perspective.”88 From Nietzsche’s perspective, the tension between reason and “life” (the Apollinian and the Dionysiac) is the key to the explanation of historical processes. In Nietzsche’s words: “An ‘idea’—the antithesis of the Dionysiac and the Apollinian—translated into the realm of metaphysics; history itself is the development of this ‘idea.’”89 2) Nietzsche presented the work of art generally and music in particular as a metaphor for “life.”90 The connection of Nietzschean philosophy to vitalism, has already been considered in the sense that art is creativity and self-expression out of freedom and autonomy.91 There is a distinction, however, between art in general and music in particular. According to Nietzsche, the Apollinian element is characterized by rationality, individuality, objectivity, and directness. The visual arts are an expression of the Apollinian element. The Dionysiac element is characterized by ecstasy, by assimilation into the collective up to the loss of individuality, and by its subjectivity and use of symbolism. Music is the faithful expression of the Dionysiac element (“Dionysiac art”).92 Music itself is vital and primary and “in its absolute sovereignty, has no need at all of images and concepts but merely tolerates them as an accompaniment.”93 To some extent, the lively and dynamic Dionysiac element reveals features resembling Rav Kook’s perception of “life”: dynamism, wholeness, inner presence, and symbolic representation. As restriction and incompleteness are forms of suffering and anomaly in Rav Kook’s perception

88 Walter Kaufmann, Nietzsche: Philosopher, Psychologist, Antichrist (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1968), 152–153. 89 Friedrich Nietzsche, Ecce Homo, in his On the Genealogy of Morals and Ecce Homo, trans. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Random House, 1967), 271, in a passage where Nietzsche relates to his book The Birth of Tragedy in the Spirit of Music. 90 Georges Liébert, Nietzsche and Music, trans. David Pellauer and Graham Parkes (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004), 2–3. 91 See, for example, Eli Eilon, Self-Creation ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2005), 47 [Heb]. 92 Friedrich Nietzsche, The Birth of Tragedy and Other Writings, trans. Ronald Speirs (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 76. 93 Ibid., 36 (emphases in original). Nietzsche’s critique of Wagner is complex and elaborate. At the end of his life, he contrasted Wagnerian operas with the vital and “Mediterranean” music of Carmen, by Georges Bizet, which represents the Dionysiac.

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of vitality and wholeness, so is the Dionysiac tormented when subordinated to individuation (“the genuinely Dionysiac suffering”).94 Several times, Rav Kook described the pain of restriction and subordination to individuality in distinctly autobiographical terms (for example, in his poem Merchavim [Expanses]). Similarly, we find in Rav Kook’s writings a critique of rationality and its limitations. Nietzsche described the connections between the Apollinian and the Dionysiac principles in at least two modes, which I list below. 1)  Cover and core. Nietzsche described the astonishment of the Apollinian Greeks when discovering that “their Apolline consciousness only hid this Dionysiac world from them like a veil.”95 This process of discovery occurs in music as well—with rhythm, harmony, and dance. The Apollinian element is driven by the hidden Dionysiac one. 2)  Limit and beyond. Nietzsche described the Dionysiac as “that which cannot be illuminated,”96 because it stretches beyond the realm dominated by science. The scientist’s glimpse into the darkness leads to anxiety and the shattering of Apollinian optimism. The view of reality as a teeming dynamic world of wholeness that is represented through symbols, a vital world that is covered up by reason, left its mark on Rav Kook’s thought as reflected in his writings. Finally, the characterizations of the vital dimension and the access to it through music also imprint Rav Kook’s ideas. The Nietzschean model was internalized in Rav Kook’s thought as a way of explaining history to its end (redemption), though not the details of this model.97 Many passages in Rav Kook’s writings, however, still tie the inner dimension of life to music. Poetry and music play a significant role in Rav Kook’s aesthetics, along with painting and sculpture. Aesthetically, “poetic beauty” and the visual “pictorial power” are two components of beauty.98 They are not valued identically, however. The visual aspect entails risks since pagan worship depends on it. Idolatry

94 95 96 97

Ibid., 52. Ibid., 21. Ibid., 75. On the distinction between their vital approaches, see Semadar Cherlow, “Rav Kook’s Morality vs. Nietzsche’s Morality of Power,” in Nietzsche, Zionism, and Hebrew Culture, ed. Jacob Golomb ( Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2002), 359 [Heb]. 98 Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 5:186 (vol. 2, 286).

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relies on the visual. By contrast, poetry faithfully represents the holy.99 In this sense, too, some similarity to the Nietzschean model of music is discernible, in a softer blurred version. In Schopenhauer’s wake, Nietzsche distinguished visual art—which is connected to the discovery of the “will” in the world of phenomena—from music, which reflects the inner and essential nature of the will. In The Birth of Tragedy, Nietzsche wrote: Both the sculptor and his relative, the epic poet, are lost in the pure contemplation of images. The Dionysiac musician, with no image at all, is nothing but primal pain and the primal echo of it. The lyric genius feels a world of images and symbols growing out of the mystical state of self-abandonment and one-ness, a world which has a quite different colouring, causality, and tempo from that of the sculptor and epic poet.100 Nietzsche states here that it is precisely the integration of poetry and music that expresses the authentic Dionysiac element.101 Moreover, he presented philosophy as music and claimed that thought is to be sung.102 Rav Kook, as noted, pointed out at length that poetry is characterized by rhythm and harmony, implying that music is a structural dimension of poetry. He presented the lyrical and musical dimensions as pure beauty, which pose no risks or hindrances. He did not, however, explicitly and radically separate the visual and acoustic dimensions of beauty. His student, the Nazir, painstakingly introduced this distinction into Rav Kook’s philosophy. An analysis of Rav Kook’s thought points to music’s epistemic achievements. We have found that Rav Kook endorses the following principles, which are compatible with the Nietzschean view of music: 1) both poetry and music reflect the dynamism of life; 2) they do so perfectly, in contrast to the visual arts.

99 Kook, notebook Rishon le-Yafo, 13 (notebook 13:15, in his Kevatsim mi-Ktav Yad Kodsho, vol. 1, 83). 100 Nietzsche, The Birth of Tragedy, 30. See also Richard Schacht, Nietzsche (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1985), 485. 101 Nietzsche, The Birth of Tragedy, 30. 102 Graham Parkes, Composing the Soul: Reaches of Nietzsche’s Psychology (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994), 77.

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Scholars have already discussed the extent of Rav Kook’s acquaintance with Nietzsche’s writings.103 The Birth of Tragedy was Nietzsche’s first book, and its models served as keystones for the development of Nietzschean philosophy. We may assume that Rav Kook was indirectly influenced by these models in his perception of music as an introduction to, and an exposure of, “life.”

Psychology and Music The vital approach, as noted, extends inwards, and the dynamic divine presence is also evident in the inner life. The divine emanation flowing from the sefirot applies to the soul, and music reflects the inner aspect of life, including its concealed facets. Rav Kook sums up the musical anchoring of the psychological state in three issues: 1) the soul’s features and its proper functioning (emanation, freedom); 2) the goals the soul sets itself; 3) the process of the soul’s elevation. Rav Kook describes the inspiration derived from divine emanation as “a holy song heard in the heights of the soul.”104 We are called upon to listen to the inner voice of our soul and its various nuances,105 and, in turn, the soul demands its freedom by means of song.106 The soul’s highest layers are described at length in kabbalistic literature. Rav Kook described the activity taking place at the soul’s supreme level as constant prayer. The permanent influence of the highest layers on the lower ones is presented as song. To describe the spiritual descent of the soul, Rav Kook resorts to a musical metaphor: “until the noble lyre [of the individual] no longer plays suitably inside him in its glorious and pleasant melodies.”107 A further assumption of Rav Kook is that the goals the soul sets itself have a definite aesthetic dimension. More precisely, only the terms of music can serve to characterize the soul’s hidden goals. These goals are embedded

103 David Frishman’s Hebrew translation of Thus Spoke Zarathustra was published in 1914. See also Cherlow, “Rav Kook’s Morality vs. Nietzsche’s Morality of Power,” 368; Reuven Gerber, The Enlightenment Revolution ( Jerusalem: WZO, 2005), 53 [Heb]. 104 Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 7:90 (vol. 3, 173). 105 Ibid., 7:187 (vol. 3, 228). 106 Ibid., 7:220 (vol. 3, 238). 107 Ibid., 8:2 (vol. 3, 243).

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in knowledge of the inner dimension, which transcends the rational realm. “The soul108 strives . . . for life, for a full life where there is movement, shouts of ‘Grace,’109 mighty song and divine singing.”110 Rav Kook made a special brief comment on the musical dimension of the soul’s activity in attaining its goals: “At a time the soul seeks its melodies, do not hinder it.”111 Finally, it merits note that Rav Kook describes the gradual elevation of the soul in musical terms. Rav Kook states that the elevation of the soul is a fact, just as the elevation of the entire world is also real, even though individuals at times fail to sense or acknowledge this. Just as people may not sense the existence and activity of the supreme layers of their soul, they may also fail to register the mental and cosmic elevation. Everyone, therefore, is required to listen “to the voice of the inner discourse” and be aware of the positive development in one’s soul. Rav Kook compares the elevation of the soul to the Shirei ha-Ma`alot [Songs of ascents] in Psalms. The rank of the ascents is compared to sidrei hama`alot (the order of the priestly watches).112 Rav Kook speaks at length about the uniqueness of the Jewish people, on the one hand, and the divine presence in all humans, on the other.113 He does not renounce psychological elitism, however, as evident, for example, in his view of the tsadik.114 In his view, there are indeed people endowed with a “poetic soul” (neshama shirit) or a “subtle poetic soul,”115 and he demands from them awareness and self-affirmation. Sometimes, he writes that the poetic quality is characteristic of the soul as such, and at other times—that it is a characteristic of only the chosen among the people. But Rav Kook is not striving for a systematic presentation. He conveys instead a series of intuitions regarding the effectiveness of the aesthetic dimension when noting the inner layer of life. Rav Kook’s

108 Rav Kook used the term “soul” (neshamah) to denote the supreme layer of the human spirit. 109 According to Zekharia 4:7. 110 Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 5:63 (vol. 2, 218). Elsewhere, Rav Kook noted that “singing and songs” expose “life” (ibid., 5:143 [vol. 2, 261]). 111 Ibid., 7:184 (vol. 3, 261). 112 On the term seder ma`alot in connection with the priestly watches, see the comments of R. Yom Tov ben Abraham Ishbili (Ritba) on BT Sukkah 55b. See Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 8:8 (vol. 3, 245). 113 See Schwartz, Challenge and Crisis, ch. 11. 114 See below; and cf. Tamar Ross, “The Elite and the Masses in the Prism of Metaphysics and History: Harav Kook on the Nature of Religious Belief,” Journal of Jewish Thought and Philosophy 8 (1999): 355–367. 115 Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 8:9 (vol. 3, 245) and 8:14 (vol. 3, 247). On the connection between creativity and elitism in Rav Kook’s thought, see Yaron, The Philosophy of Rav Kook, 12–13.

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expression was strong and clear. He had a gift for formulating his ideas in a lucid style, enabling his readers to trace the course of his thought.

Creativity and Freedom Rav Kook argued that the inner poetry, meaning the intuitive and immediate perception of the realm of the holy, is a pure aesthetic capability. He referred to it as “singing power,” “poetic power” and saw it as an expression of the “power of beauty.”116 The fundamental characteristic of aesthetic ability is boundless freedom. Assisted by kabbalistic terminology, Rav Kook determined that poetic capability stems from understanding (binah, also described as the “divine spirit” or “world of freedom”), which symbolizes unconditioned absolute freedom.117 Pure aesthetic creativity is boundless, just as the intuitive and experiential approach it represents is also a pure capability typified by absolute freedom. When poetry and musicality, in the metaphorical sense of intuitive contemplation, relate to levels of life and being, and adopt a direction, a purpose, and a goal, they break up and are reduced. But at their core, poetry and music are infinitely free aesthetic capabilities. Rav Kook wrote to his son, R. Zvi Yehuda, that “poetic inspiration is not written up for a purpose,” and “as for poems written for a purpose, the pure spirit of poetry does not apply to them.”118 Rav Kook also commented on the aesthetic creative process, noting that pure free feeling is indeed the source of “all holy poems, the source of all prayer, thanksgiving, praise, and song.”119 He delved, however, into the phenomenon of

116 Kook, notebook Rishon le-Yafo, 67 (notebook 13:53–54, in his Kevatsim mi-Ktav Yad Kodsho, vol. 1, 116–117). Poetic power conveys the natural inclination toward “feelings of the holy” (ibid.), and is perceived as entirely different from analytical power. According to the parameter that guides Rav Kook’s thought, the ideal is the union of the various forces. 117 Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 3:179 (vol. 2, 73). See also Ish-Shalom, Between Rationalism and Mysticism, ch. 3. According to Rav Kook, a superficial and nihilistic view of freedom might view the abolition of the commandments and the abandonment of Talmud study as “spiritual poetic support” (Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 5:96 [vol. 2, 236]. See also ibid., 5:136 [vol. 2, 256]). Furthermore, in Rav Kook’s thought, understanding (binah) represents knowledge of the thing in itself in Kantian terms. The holy, as noted, is described in such terms. This knowledge is also characterized by freedom and styled in musical terms. He writes on understanding: “When the freedom of understanding life in all worlds in its highest form appears, the splendor (hod) of understanding (binah) is revealed as an instance of pure knowledge, suffused with the scents of poetry, the pleasure of melody, and the sharpness of singing” (Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 7:171 [vol. 3, 219]). 118 Kook, Iggerot ha-Re’ayah, vol. 1, 37–38. 119 Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 4:63 (vol. 2, 152).

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musical creativity, and claimed it to be the result of a charismatic and dialectic process involving the following stages: 1) artists try to express the inspiration that fills them; 2) the first effort involves rational tools; 3) but reason proves too narrow to contain inspiration; 4)  therefore, poetry and music are the most faithful expression of inspiration. According to Rav Kook, musical terms enable proper expression of the spiritual experience. He describes the process as follows: How do we sing songs and utter praises and tributes? The spirit comes into the soul,120 and divine sublimity fills the heart, which feels it is too small to contain all its feelings. Divine pleasure fills all of it and the intellect sheds light, exposing the truth of the vision’s greatness—how minute the absorption by contrast with the filling from above.121 And it rises, lifts, and is sanctified, and the inner demand becomes increasingly greater within it. It fills with might as a flash of lightning, filled with glow and darkness, an idea about its worthlessness passing through it, by contrast with this great event. Another flash of lightning then comes, all light and supreme grace [chesed] and compassion, and the divine benevolence of God’s greatness and the pleasantness of his vision, in greatness and fear, in gevurah and tif’eret,122 fill the heart. The heart is still thinking, and feeling intensifies, and thought is glorified, lifelines flood, will not give it rest. Supreme pleasure again knocks,123 that is the voice of my beloved.124 It

120 According to this description, awakening to a vision is a natural process and does not come from above. In the midrashic and kabbalistic ranking, the spirit (ruach) ranks lower than the soul (neshamah), and in this passage, it awakens the soul. Hence, this is a charismatic move, often referred to in the literature as holy spirit (ruach ha-kodesh). Inspiration and initiative, then, are not heteronomous and flow from the seer’s personality. 121 The receiving vessel, meaning the human heart or human imagination, ranks infinitely lower than the divine emanation absorbed within it. 122 Rav Kook hinted here to the theosophical aspect of the prophetic or charismatic emanation. The intimated sefirot are chesed (“greatness”), din (“fear”), gevurah (“valor”), and tif’eret (“splendor”). See also Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 5:163 (vol. 2, 273). 123 According to Song of Songs 5:2. 124 According to Song of Songs 2:8.

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is called, and it awakens, opens its mouth in song, my soul is feasted as with marrow and fat, and my mouth praises thee with joyful lips (Psalms 63:6). My lips will shout for joy when I sing praises to thee; my soul also, which thou hast rescued (Psalms 71:23).125 The terms in this passage suggest prophetic inspiration, a kind of charisma, given that Rav Kook speaks of a vision and of absorbing emanation.126 In other sources in his writings, he also characterized prophetic inspiration (the holy spirit) through “singing with joy, and [playing] melodies.”127 In the passage quoted above, Rav Kook uses the famous parable about flashes of lightning, mentioned in the introduction to Maimonides’ The Guide of the Perplexed, to portray the vision experience. The differences between Maimonides and Rav Kook in their use of this parable merit note. Maimonides used it to rank the frequency of people’s true metaphysical apprehensions. For some, apprehension is continuous, and for some, it is random and fragmentary. The lowest layer is made up of those on whom light has never shone. Between the two extremes, are many levels, according to which people are ranked. By contrast, Rav Kook uses the same parable to describe the conscious religious experience. The dialectic of ebb and flow, light and darkness is expressed with the image of the flashes of lightning. Divine inspiration gives a sense of selfaffirmation and haughtiness whereas human insignificance gives a sense of worthlessness. Rav Kook, then, indirectly granted religious phenomenological meaning to the parable used by Maimonides at the opening of The Guide of the Perplexed. The result of the conscious process is the prophetic religious experience, the experience of revelation, which is characterized by poetry and song. Revelation comes forth as poetry. God prophesies in poetry. Rav Kook hints that poetry expresses a kind of automatic speech, that is, God speaks through the mouth of the prophet in poetry. But the revelation scene is not limited to divine activity. The human participant joins in and also praises God. Rav Kook conveyed these processes in textual references at the end of the passage. There, we find again

125 Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 5:84 (vol. 2, 231–232). 126 The flow of emanation is also referred to as “supreme song.” See Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 5:137 (vol. 2, 256). 127 Ibid., 8:161 (vol. 3, 297), where Rav Kook describes the awakening of the holy spirit in musical terms following the simultaneous flow of emanation downward as well as upward (referring to theurgic activity).

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the epistemological determination that music characterizes the way of knowing what is beyond human apprehension. Another fact worth noting is that the opening of the passage indicates that musical creativity owes its existence to heavenly inspiration. Music, then, is not only a characteristic but an inherent component of the religious experience in general and the prophetic one in particular. Rav Kook focused on musical creativity (“sing songs”) and explained it in terms of supreme manifestations. Henceforth, I move on to examine two issues wherein poetry and nigun emerge as benchmarks for several values. The first are different perceptions of the tsadik as a spiritual leader and as conveying the nuances of being. The second is future redemption and the course of events denoting it.

The Tsadik: (1) Personality Rav Kook devoted great intellectual and creative effort to tracing the personality profile of the tsadik and the outstanding individual, and to describing the tsadik’s forms of worship.128 His thought bears the influence of various traditions, such as the perception of the tsadik in Hasidism and the concept of the genius in contemporary aesthetic philosophy. The characteristics of the charismatic leader occupied Rav Kook in the context of current events as well.129 For him outstanding individual is able to read the surrounding reality correctly. This person deals with the inner meanings of historical events and, therefore, knows how to direct the contemporaries to attain the goals of divine providence. Rav Kook discusses the concept of genius in a work he wrote in memory of his father-in-law, Eliyahu David Rabinowitz-Teomim, known as Aderet (1843–1905), whom he considered the paradigm of the genius. Rav Kook’s discussion focuses on two aspects: the genius per se and the effect of the genius on the surroundings as a source of influence, imitation, and learning. He distinguished an acquired dimension of genius, which requires toil and effort, and an essential dimension of spiritual inspiration and charisma. The influence of the genius is also dual: influence on learning and exaltation, meaning that the 128 See Semadar Cherlow, “Rav Kook’s Mystical Mission,” Da`at 49 (2002): 99–136 [Heb]; idem, The Tsadik Is the Foundation of the World: Rav Kook’s Esoteric Mission and Mystical Experience (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2012), 311–313 [Heb]; Dov Schwartz, “Religious Zionism and the Idea of the New Person,” Israel: Studies in Zionism and the State of Israel 16 (2009): 145–148 [Heb]. 129 See, for example, Gerber, The Enlightenment, ch. 5.

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genius’ disciples and the environment actively imitate this individual’s greatness and gradually rise toward it; and indirect spiritual influence, an inspiration the genius radiates to the disciples and the surroundings.130 Pervading the description of the piety, the righteousness, and the genius of Aderet are musical motifs: As for the Torah and all its commandments, all their paragraphs and clauses, in life, in learning, and in action, he [Aderet] sees them as a great, powerful divine song, a love song.131 Every commandment and every law has a special musical feature that the congregation of Israel (knesset Israel) listen to and delight in, “it shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice with joy and singing” (Isaiah 35:2). We only need to remove the seal from our children’s ears, “the thorns and splinters surrounding the supreme lily.”132 Song will resonate in their hearts and uplift their souls with the same natural uplift felt by those who rushed to develop the nature of their Judaism. A natural Jew, in the full sense of the term, was the tsadik Aderet, of blessed memory. The Hebrew harmony that emerges from all of the Torah’s practical teachings played within his soul. He was thus lovingly attached to every commandment, whether light or severe, “Blessed is the man who fears the Lord, who greatly delights in his commandments” (Psalms 112:2).133 The inner vital world, of which every single commandment is an external and practical expression, is exposed in the way the genius worships God. For the genius, the Torah is song, and observing its commandments is a nigun. Rav Kook presented the song as playing by itself and, therefore, tied it to nature (“natural Jew”). The genius knows how to listen to the song that rises by itself from the worship of God. This is also the source of his influence on the generation: ultimately, the inner and vital dimension of life will expand to the genius’

130 According to Rav Kook, the genius is exposed in the inwardness of the wonderful soul. See Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook, Eder ha-Yakar ve-Ikvei ha-Tson ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1967), 23–24 [Heb]. 131 According to Psalms 45:1. 132 This sentence appears in other Hasidic books. See, for example, R. Yisrael, the Maggid of Kozhnitz, Avodat Yisrael (Munkacs, 1929), commentary on M. Avot 5:4 (92c) [Heb]; Avraham Yehoshua Heshel of Apt, Ohev Yisrael (Zhytomyr, 1863), Nitsavim, 87b [Heb]. 133 Kook, Eder ha-Yakar, 47.

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surroundings as well (to “our children”). The righteousness and genius of the tsadik, then, have a distinct aesthetic dimension that is conveyed in terms of music. The more realistic Rav Kook’s description of Aderet becomes, the greater number of music-related terms is included in it (musicality, niggun, listening, harmony). For Rav Kook, genius entails a paradox: the tsadik’s aesthetic ability “rises exponentially.” The tsadik, who ascribes no significance to restricted and worthless material concerns is, paradoxically, the one who knows how to value the sublime and the beautiful in the aesthetic experience—“in the sights, in the song.”134 The behavior of the tsadik, a personality who contemplates the depths of phenomena and acts within life itself, is described in terms of song and harmony. Rav Kook writes: Divine song invariably plays by harmonious laws inside his [the tsadik’s] soul.135 . . . Divine perfection, pure and exalted morality, the divine wondrous harmony with all its splendor and delight, is always the joy of their [the great ones’] lives and the backbone of their soul.136 The soul of the tsadik “is always immersed in a sefirah of song, tunes, the melody expressing the delight of the holy.”137 The tsadik’s experience of the divine presence is also characterized by musical variations. The tsadik wanders with the Shekhinah around all the worlds “in a free journey . . . full of refined pleasures, aromatic scents, many harps and lyres, a mysterious discourse of angelic song, and exalted musings of holy spirits.”138 Music reflects not only actual communion but also the tsadik’s freedom (“the free journey”). His pure aesthetic feeling includes music. Regarding “noble souls,” Rav Kook determined that “their poetry is constant,”139 and also said about himself, “I must be a poet.”140 He described

134 Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 1:804 (vol. 1, 257). 135 Ibid., 2:98 (vol. 1, 327). 136 Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook, Pinkas ha-Dapim, 1, 51, in his Kevatsim mi-Ktav Yad Kodsho, vol. 2 ( Jerusalem: Machon Ginzei ha-Re’ayah, 2008), 83. 137 Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 4:8 (vol. 2, 134). 138 Ibid., 4:96 (vol. 2, 167). 139 Ibid., 2:85 (vol. 1, 320). See also ibid., 2:96 (vol. 1, 323). On singing at the Temple, Rav Kook determined that “the splendor of this supreme song is revealed to them [the priests] every day with constancy” (ibid., 4:63 [vol. 2, 152]). 140 Ran Sarid, ed., Personal Chapters Collected from the Writings of R. Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook (Ramat-Gan: Re’ut, 2002), 61 [Heb].

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the aesthetic substrate of the tsadik as part of some unique specific quality— tsadikut: Intellectual and emotional tsadikut is a special art, and one who has a talent for it must constantly develop and improve it. In and by itself, it will bring practical tsadikut, which is a form of craft and is not at the level of high art as are the intellect and the emotions. The happiness of the world depends on the self, including the tsadikut talent, which is the good heart and the inner clear grasp of the tsadikim, who are the foundation of the world. And the nation, indeed the entire world, is largely founded on the expansion of the tsadikut quality.141 The qualitative dimension of the tsadik is the inner dimension. This dimension is equivalent to an art and Rav Kook later referred to it as “the song of the tsedek.” On this song, he wrote: “When it expands and is blessed by its divine source, it brings eternal joy to humans.”142 Rav Kook thus built the following scheme describing the tsadik: intellectual dimension emotional dimension practical dimension

art craft

The tsadik is enriched by emanation, which reaches his inner dimension. Its aesthetic aspect comes forth in art and song and also inspires the tsadik’s surroundings. The tsadik’s inner enrichment with aesthetic pleasures—“song for the singers”143—enables the rest of humanity to receive the emanation. What comes forth here is the practical dimension, which is technical, meaning it is an external and “superficial” expression of the inner content. Rather than merely a reflection of the intra-divine emanation processes, the song expands to the emanation processes affecting humans as well. The various types of emanation, then, have a discernible aesthetic dimension. The tsadik, who is also the leader at the time of redemption, is sensitive to the song and takes part in it.

141 Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 1:501 (vol. 1, 164). 142 Ibid. 143 Ibid., 1:588 (vol. 1, 186). This expression is repeated in another context, ibid., 2:20 (vol. 1, 301).

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The Tsadik: (2) Wholeness Rav Kook never confined himself to one meaning or one specific definition of a term. He consistently strove to describe the various dimensions of every event, perception, or conceptual approach. His view of music also draws on various diverse traditions and conveys the artistic aspect of the experience. My discussion below centers on a well-known passage from Shemonah Kevatsim that presents various expressions of poetry and song on the path of the perfect individual, which begins with the characteristics described above and ends with a general purpose. The tsadik’s voyage, then, is from the individual personality to existence in general. I quote the full passage because it faithfully reflects the correspondence between the musical-aesthetic dimension and the moralreligious one: There is a type that sings the song of his soul, and in his soul, he finds everything, full spiritual satisfaction. There is another type that sings the song of the nation, departing from the circle of his individual soul, which he finds is not sufficiently broad and not ideally settled, yearning for the heights of heaven, and he unites in tender love with the entire congregation of Israel (knesset Israel). With it he sings its songs, suffers its sorrows, and entertains its hopes, thinking pure and supreme thoughts about its past and its future and inquiring with love and with the wisdom of the heart into the content of its inner spirit. And there is a type whose soul expands even further, beyond the border of Israel,144 to sing the human song. His spirit broadens with the glorious human spirit and the splendor of its image, looking forward to its general mission and expecting supreme improvement to reach perfection [hishtalmut], drawing from this life source his general meditations and inquiries, aspirations, and, visions. And there is a type that towers further above until he unites with the entire universe, with all the creatures and all the worlds, and with all of them utters a song—he is the one who utters a perek shirah

144 Elsewhere, Rav Kook noted that “the national song cannot accept a foreign graft” (ibid., 8:124 [vol. 3, 282]), negating the possibility of the national song reaching a synthesis with any other.

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every day since he has been promised the world to come.145 And there is a type that rises with all these songs together in one cluster, and all sing together in pleasant tunes, giving one another vigor and life, the voice of myrth and the voice of gladness,146 the voice of merriment and the voice of song,147 the voice of delight148 and the voice of holiness. The song of the soul, the song of the nation, the song of the human being, the song of the world, all fuse together within him at all times. And this completion in all its fullness rises to be a holy song, the song of God, the song of Israel, in all its might and glory, in all its truth and greatness. Israel, the song of God,149 a simple song, a double song, a triple song, a fourfold song.150 The Song of Songs, which is the Song of Solomon (Song of Songs 1:1), the king of peace.151 In this passage, Rav Kook described the elevation of the perfect individuals through the aesthetic dimension—song and music. Rav Kook stressed the voice that accompanies the song. This is not the written text that is sung but a real event of song. At whatever level people find themselves, they sing. The path to elevation follows a course from the individual to the collective. Each stage represents a higher level of generalization than the previous one (soul, nation, humanity, universe). Seemingly, Rav Kook indirectly relies on the approach of Maimonides who claims that, for some prophets, their prophecy is

145 See Joseph Albo, Sefer ha-Ikkarim: Book of Principles, trans. Isaac Husik, vol. 3 (Philadelphia, PA: Jewish Publication Society, 1946), 9. Cf. BT Sanhedrin 91b. 146 Jeremiah 7:34, 16:9, 28:10, 33:11. 147 From the order of prayers recited at the end of the Sabbath and the sanctification of the moon. 148 According to R. Elimelech of Lizhensk, the voice of delight (kol chedvah) is a voice of triumph. See No`am Elimelech, ed. Gedaliah Nig’al, vol. 1 ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1978), 136 [Heb]. 149 See Zohar Chadash, vol. 2, Song of Songs, 5b; Tikkunei Zohar, 10, 24b. 150 See Tikkunei Zohar, 21, 51b. R. Nachman of Bratslav transposed the four mentioned types of song to a messianic dimension: “This is the type of song that will flow in the future—a simple song, double, triple, fourfold, and there are ten kinds of nigun” (R. Nachman of Bratslav, Likkutei Moharan 49:5). But R. Nachman also tied nigun and dance to the influence of the tsadik and to the influence on the tsadik (see, for example, Likkutei Moharan 41). Thus, it is a plausible assumption that Rav Kook’s view in this regard was influenced by R. Nachman’s thought. 151 Sifra, Shemini 1; Exodus Rabba 52:5, and many parallel versions in Song of Songs Rabba. This passage appears in Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 7:186 (vol. 3, 186–187). In Orot ha-Kodesh, the passage is titled “Fourfold Song” (see Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook, Orot ha-Kodesh [ Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1963], vol. 2, 484).

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their personal perfection and entails no social implications, whereas, for others, the overflow of their prophecy channels them to amend and repair their surroundings.152 According to Rav Kook’s description, the elevation of the tsadik is a twoway process: with the elevation, the emanation also descends and enriches him, making his ideas, perceptions, and experiences more general and united. The higher the tsadik rises, the better he grasps the unity of existence as a whole, exposes it, and communes with it. The basic assumption in the symbolization endorsed by Rav Kook is that all entities sing: Israel sings, humanity sings, the whole universe sings. The rise in a person’s rank is symbolized by the confluence of the individual song with that of more general entities. The song is an expression of the divine presence. In other words, the most precise symbolic expression of the divine immanence is aesthetic. The tsadik is capable of listening to the song of the general entities, and even sing with them. The tsadik’s rank is determined according to the ability to match the individual to the general song, that is, the coalescence of the divine presence in the personal soul with the general divine presence. Finally, the description of the perfect person who moves from the song of the nation to the cosmic song rests on the match between Israel and the universe. “The harmony in its [Israel’s] essence is wonderful and special. It penetrates further and further up to the material harmony and its adaptation to the spiritual harmony of their own selves and of the entire creation, which responds with a blessing.”153 The rise from the song of Israel to the song of humanity and of the universe, therefore, is natural. We have found that the ranks of existence are mutually anchored, and this phenomenon is described in the song symbol, as follows: 1) the individual and the general entities (Israel, humanity, existence) sing; 2) the song of the individual (the tsadik) corresponds to the songs of the general entities; 3) the songs of the general entities are mutually matched. The perfect person senses this cosmic activity (the divine presence) and unites with it. The entire universe is full of words and sounds.

152 Maimonides, Code, Laws of the Foundations of the Torah 7:7 (see The Book of Knowledge, trans. Moshe Hyamson, in The Code of Maimonides [ Jerusalem: Boys Town, 1974], 43a). 153 Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 5:41 (vol. 2, 207).

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Redemption Another idea appears in Rav Kook’s aesthetic thought, which also connects it to his thought in general: the aesthetic revival of the Jewish people is anchored in its national messianic renaissance. In an era of redemption, creative activity draws on the realization of the end. In the famous epistle on repentance mentioned in the previous chapter, Rav Kook claimed it is impossible to understand the depth of repentance or to acquire new insights in its regard without contemplating “the revealed end” (ha-kets ha-meguleh).154 Rav Kook’s aesthetic doctrine rests on the messianic interpretation of the Zionist awakening. Put simply, religious Zionism views Zionism as a movement of repentance but the discussion of repentance fails to address the national awakening and the messianic interpretation is therefore lacking. Rav Kook, however, expanded this view to include the messianic dimension that is expressed in literature and art. “The flourishing of literature,” wrote Rav Kook, also conveys “the shining of the messiah’s light in the world.”155 As the messianic process, which is now beginning, leaves its mark on literature, singing and music are also influenced by it. The beginning of the redemption process includes the “awakening of prose and poetry, critical and public, which returns to the light of prophecy.”156 The literary and artistic revival is a symptom and an expression of the redemptive process. From literature, the messianic impulse moves to song. As the process of redemption affects new stages in repentance, so does it influence innovativeness in singing. Rav Kook wrote: The disposition that is currently the final end will shine as the light of day. Indeed, the disposition will itself be the true end— the reward of a mitsvah is a mitsvah.157 And that is the matter of a new song,158 and new singing,159 and a new light that will shine

154 Kook, Iggerot ha-Re’ayah, vol. 2, 37. This epistle was discussed above, 207–208. 155 Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 1:176 (vol. 1, 73). 156 Ibid., 2:301 (vol. 1, 384). 157 M. Avot 4:2; Avot de-Rabbi Nathan, version 1, 25 and version 2, 33. 158 Isaiah 42:10; Psalms 33:3 and 144:9, and more. 159 Genesis Rabba 78:1; Song of Songs Rabba 1:3; the redemption blessing preceding the Amidah prayer, and more. The new song deals, above all, with a new emanation spreading over many realms, including the aesthetic one. Elsewhere, Rav Kook noted the new meanings of Halakhah in the wake of the new song (“it means that a pleasant and delightful singing interpretation could spread over the whole Torah”). See Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook, Orot ha-Torah ( Jerusalem: Merkaz Shapira, 2004), ch. 4, 4, 26 [Heb]. This source too

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upon Zion.160 May the song and the light be truly new. As for the cosmic elevation, it will not be manifest that it comes by virtue of the disposition. The verse attests that it is sown light (Psalms 97:11), just as the cereal is also new, as it is written, “new grain” (Leviticus 23:16; Numbers 28:26) that, in itself, is the old grain that has been sown.161 Rav Kook split cosmic activity into disposition and purpose.162 The night is a time for preparation (resting to gather strength) and the day is the time for accomplishing the purpose. In addition, disposition is the present time, whereas the purpose is the messianic era. Rav Kook relied on approaches that see the future as a realization of the present, meaning that the future is not entirely new but a kind of shift from the potential (the past) to the actual (the future). Similarly, the seed of future redemption is already in the present. Rav Kook clarified that contemporary events pave the way to full redemption. The new song is parallel to the new light that grows from the present light, as the song of the future grows from the present one. It merits note that worship at the Temple included “holy songs,”163 and their renewal in the future will be based on them. As evident from various symbols he uses, Rav Kook represents the present and future eras in terms of song. As the order of historical events denotes a gradual raise toward redemption, so the poetic musical order is progressively strengthened until redemption is attained. The revelation of prophecy, which is tied to voice and hearing, is an expression of this order, whose root is in cosmic elevation, anchored in music. And the voice of the living God,164 when revealed in the hearts, stands behind our wall165 to be revealed in the worlds, and in all the worlds, heaven and earth will sing to his name,166 floods will

mentions a “new song,” which in Rav Kook’s writings refers to the inner changes that will occur in the era of redemption. See below. 160 From the first of the Shem`a blessings. 161 Kook, Olat Re’ayah, vol. 2, 300. 162 Ibid., 269. 163 Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 1:709 (vol. 1, 226). 164 According to Deuteronomy 5:22. 165 Song of Songs 2:9. 166 See Hayyim Tyrer of Czernowitz, Beer Mayim Chayyim, on Exodus 12:1.

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clap their hands to please him.167 These angels bring the light of the messiah.168 We find, then, that aesthetic creativity in general and musical creativity in particular cannot be separated from the messianic interpretation of contemporary events. “The repair of the world (tikkun olam) depends on the return and renewal of song: ‘sing to the Lord a new song.’”169 Rav Kook saw his times as an awakening of natural redemption when individuals initiate a procedure of freedom and autonomous self-structuring, but he never renounced the messianic apocalyptic vision. To him, current events are an introduction to a new and fantastic era when he expects changes in the laws of nature (eternal material life, a changed nature, the resurrection of the dead, and so forth). Rav Kook characterized “perfect redemption” as renewal everywhere, from the ontological realm, through the ethical and the epistemological, and up to the aesthetic. Renewal will be in a new life, in a new song,170 in a renewed nature, in new souls,171 in new views, in new feelings, in a new notion of the world, in renewed wills, in new confidence, in a new approach to heaven and earth, to the entire universe, to humans and to all creatures, to all forms of life, to the revealed and the concealed, to the spiritual and the material, to the life in the body and to the life outside it, to knowledge that is limited and to knowledge that is boundless, to individual sparks and to general lights, to vessels and to their contents172—a new relationship will be created with everything.173

167 According to Psalms 98:8. 168 Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 7:31 (vol. 3, 132). 169 Ibid., 3:308 (vol. 2, 110). On “supreme song” in the redemption era see ibid., 3:308 (vol. 2, 216). 170 From the redemption blessing preceding the Amidah in the morning prayers. 171 The new souls are souls that have not yet been through the process of metempsychosis. One feature of the final redemption is the end of this process, which requires the release of the new souls. 172 The relationship between the vessel and the light inside it, then, will change at the time of redemption and they will be balanced. The relationship is evident in two characteristics: 1) the vessel will contain the light, contrary to the breaking typical of the exile period; and 2) the vessel will be revealed as light, according to the “to and fro” approach, that is, the supreme and the lowest stages of existence come together. The source of the matter and the vessel is revealed as the highest of all. 173 Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 1:490 (vol. 1, 157).

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Song, then, denotes the link between the present era (the beginning of redemption), which is marked by distinctly natural activity, and the apocalyptic messianic era (perfect redemption), which is characterized by a new world. Rav Kook set the external change, the renewed nature and the renewed universe, as occurring in parallel to the internal change, the new divine emanation. Song is a term that comprises the internal changes, which are not perceived sensorially and rationally. The elevation of existence, then, comes forth in “joy, and song, and gladness.”174 Elsewhere, Rav Kook described the emanation that enhances existence and the entire universe’s yearning for elevation and communion with the source as manifest in “singers bringing delight.”175 A further link between natural redemption—which, in Rav Kook’s consciousness, had already begun in his time—and future apocalyptic redemption is evident in a passage from an article he published: The divine psychic movement,176 the movement of the worlds, will then be revealed in a vision, in song, and in every apt soul, and their sounds will resonate in the spiritual sea of the entire whole, first in the whole of the Jewish nation and soon after in the whole of humanity. All that was erased will engraved anew, and all that was forgotten will be remembered anew, and the joy of heaven and earth will go back to what had been.177 Through this connection between natural and apocalyptic redemption, Rav Kook joins other thinkers in the early period of the Mizrachi, who saw the natural messianic awakening as an introduction and a path to messianic apocalyptic realization.178 The present time leads us to the end of days. The continuity between the two eras is interesting per se, but will not be considered here. Poetry and song terms, then, serves Rav Kook in his interpretation of current events and of the era as a whole. In his view, the national awakening cannot

174 Ibid., 1:523 (vol. 1, 168). See also Yaron, The Philosophy of Rav Kook, 151. 175 Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 5:185 (vol. 2, 287). 176 Rav Kook refers to the inner and dynamic dimensions of life, both of humans and of the entire universe, as psyche (or psychica), resulting in a combination of vitalism and the sense of a universal verve that characterize Rav Kook’s thought. He defined the “world psychica” as a movement “where the spirit of humans and the spirit of the world unify and reach complete harmony at the end of days.” Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook, Ma’amarei ha-Re’ayah, ed. Elisha Aviner and David Landau ( Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1988), 3 [Heb]. 177 Ibid., 4. 178 See Dov Schwartz, Religious Zionism between Logic and Messianism (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 1999), 75–80 [Heb].

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be separated from the aesthetic renaissance. This principle becomes a concrete goal in the following passage: The Jewish renaissance must be awakened in all the powers gathered in the nation, in all its Torah, in all its faith, in all its virtues, in all its goodness, in all its wealth, in all its strength, in all its melodies, in all its song, in its whole self, in all the passion of its life, in all its intellect and intellection, in all its energy, and in the triumph of its talents.179 In this passage, Rav Kook seems to have set all the forces and national values in four implied series of threesomes and one foursome. Each series denotes a process of realization and exposure in a particular realm in the context of the national renaissance. These processes reflect the shift of the national aspect from the potential to the actual. The four series are: 1) 2) 3) 4)

torah, faith, virtues (the religious realm); goodness, wealth, strength (the behavioral realm); thought, song, self (the epistemic realm); life, intellect, energy, and talent (the creative realm).

Song is presented in the third series as the connecting link between logic (referring to rational knowledge)180 and the self (the content of knowledge, attained through intuition). The path for attaining self-exposure, reaching the inner essence, and connecting to them goes through song. For the Jewish people to expose its inner divine core in the process of national renaissance, it must revive song. Just as song characterizes Rav Kook’s epistemic approach, it is also a significant motif in his conceptions of the messianic times.

179 Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 5:194 (vol. 2, 291). 180 The Hebrew version of Psalms 92:4, “to the melody of the lyre,” reads “alei higayon be-khinor.” Ibn Ezra’s exegesis of higayon is: “the pleasanteness of the song or the name of the musical instrument.” On logic and singing as two mutually complementary poles, see also Kook, Shemonah Kevatsim, 7:78 (vol. 3, 166).

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Rav Kook and Music: Summary The importance of music (especially vocal music) for understanding Rav Kook’s intuitions can hardly be exaggerated. Many passages in Rav Kook’s writings deal with the voice, hearing, and listening, but I have only addressed passages dealing with poetry, which also largely emphasize its musical aspect (using words such as “song,” piyyut, “harmony,” and so forth). These emphases show that the song cannot be separated from its singing. The words are not detached from the melody. Music is an important key to Rav Kook’s epistemological and ontological ideas; it is the foundation for understanding the cosmic structure of the present and for shaping the future as well. Without music, we cannot understand the transition from the present to the messianic future. Several themes can be viewed as leitmotifs in Rav Kook’s ideas, and music is one of them. What is the nature of Rav Kook’s reliance on the musical motif? How does music represent the realm of the holy? Rav Kook related mainly to texts that are sung, that is, to vocal music. Probably, the actual object of his discussion were melodies in prayer and piyyut, and instrumental music did not play an essential role in his biography or writings.181 Poetry conveys an impression different from prose. The music that accompanies the poetry, the song, and the nigun creates an additional impression in the performer and in the listener. The two aesthetic effects (words and melody) that meet in vocal music enable, according to Rav Kook, a new approach toward the aesthetic experience. Vocal music, then, represents a different type of knowledge, which cannot be exhausted with a rational prosaic description. The direct impression, the profound feeling that listening creates, is the most faithful expression of intuitive mystical apprehension that transcends the rational layer. The musical motif is, for Rav Kook, a tool to convey a unique form of knowledge and to characterize the realm of the holy as poetic and musical. This approach in Rav Kook’s thought, tying the vital and transcendent dimension of reality to musical terms, became more prominent in writings from 1904 onward, that is, around the time of his arrival to the Land of Israel. He had used the term shiri in earlier writings,182 but not in the sense of an epistemological approach attesting to the limits of reason. His arrival to the Land of Israel, as 181 Jacob Neusner’s approach is worth noting here. He claimed that the Torah is vocal music because it contains the characteristics of music integrated with text. 182 See, for example, Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook, Afikim ba-Negev (1903), in Otsrot ha-Re’ayah, ed. Moshe Yehiel Tsuriel, vol. 2 (Sha`alavim: Yeshivat Sha`alavim, 1988), 738 [Heb].

Music, Zionism, Religion

is known, led Rav Kook to re-examine various aspects of his personality and his thought. Possibly, his encounter with the Land of Israel indirectly led him to use the musical motif to convey knowledge of the holy.

Summary Religious-Zionist thought addressed the place of music in its ideology at various levels—cultural uniqueness, messianism, preaching, and so forth. The deepest philosophical framework was unquestionably set up by Rav Kook. In his view, the musical motif sets the epistemic, ontological, and historical course. In general, his thought brought together rich internal and external traditions. Scholars who study Rav Kook’s teachings are split as to the impact of various kabbalistic schools in his thought and the nature of the balance between kabbalistic and philosophical influences. The consensual understanding is that Kabbalah is a strong foundation of Rav Kook’s thought and, consequently, his disciples-colleagues were also influenced by esoteric teachings, in which the nigun plays a distinct role. Nevertheless, and despite the symbolic and essential standing of music in Rav Kook’s circle, it entailed no significant practical implications and none of its members became musicians. Rav Kook and his circle set up a philosophical backbone from which religious-Zionist approaches to music developed. In the discussion above, the approaches to music, however limited, reflect the attempts of religious Zionism to grapple with the challenge of modernity and secular culture. Jawitz’s approach demanded qualified involvement in the modern world while setting up an alternative culture, hence his reservations about European art, including music. His view, then, demanded the building of a new culture based on traditional Jewish sources that conveys a radical perspective of withdrawal, which conveys a radical perspective of withdrawing inwards. Nationality, in his perception, is selfsustaining and does not draw on the surroundings. Rav Kook and his circle endorsed a midway position that, in practice, sets up a philosophy built on the sources of Judaism with music playing a significant role, but without rejecting, or engaging in a controversy with, non-Jewish culture. Although their writings do not show signs of professional musical knowledge, their openness to philosophical and aesthetic sources dealing with music is certainly evident. The musical aspect of this circle’s thinking, however, did not persist in later groups, and the standing of music in Jewish thought remained a concern only for several composers who were active in later years.

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Summing Up Music is present in the Jewish world, and the main institutions of Jewish religion involve music in their functioning. A visitor to a synagogue during prayers and at the Torah reading will immediately discern the musical expression. For anyone entering the traditional beit midrash, be it in the East or the West, the initial impression is that of the melody that accompanies the learning. The Torah, meaning the divine revelation, is delivered and transmitted from one generation to another through song, and lyrical texts that were originally delivered in some musical form are widespread in Jewish sources. This musical cultural climate could not fail to leave its mark on abstract thought even if it was not directly anchored in the aesthetic experience. Hence, it is somewhat paradoxical that so few Jewish thinkers set music at the center of their abstract metaphysical approach. We can number some of them in Italy during the Renaissance, such as R. Judah Moscato; thinkers from Hasidic communities such as Habad and Bratslav; and some in the twentieth century, such as Franz Rosenzweig, R. Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen Kook, and Jacob Neusner. My endeavor in this book was to trace various paths that, ultimately, led to the creating substantive conceptions of music. Musical motifs in Jewish thought do not necessarily develop in consistent stages, unlike other realms such as theology, where scholars can point to conceptual “stations” with a specific way of thinking and a distinct form of discourse (such as the work of R. Saadia Gaon, Maimonides, Gersonides, and so forth). By contrast, musical motifs appear randomly in discussions on other issues and is generally unfocused. And yet, even though there is, strictly speaking, no systematic discourse about music, I did attempt to show that there is still a trend and a structure of musical thought. My focus was on the value and the place of music in Jewish thought as a whole, tracing the past and present course of the musical component in it. I also addressed various interpretations of music’s nature and standing. In line with these goals, I dealt with meta-music, meaning the location and value of music in

Summing Up

the map of Jewish philosophy and Kabbalah rather than with a detailed analysis of compositions, piyyutim, and songs. The book, then, considers the flow of musical thought and its contribution to the emergence of a philosophical consciousness in the Jewish world. In this summary, I draw conclusions from the phenomenological analysis presented in the previous chapters.

Framework I begin with the thematic and conceptual framework of the discussion about the musical motif in Jewish thought. The discussion has addressed several dimensions of music, as follows. I)  Theory of music. This dimension is concerned with pure knowledge of music’s laws, and involves two key aspects: 1) educational aspect: in antiquity, as well as during the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, musical theory was a structural element of the knowledge intellectuals were expected to acquire (quadrivium); 2) content aspect: Musical theory was perceived as mathematical and, consequently, as related to natural phenomena such as astronomy (the movement of the spheres) and anatomy (pulse). II) Musical performance. This dimension deals with musical skills, and includes two aspects: 1) historical and apologetic aspect: the song of the Levites at the Temple was perceived as an ideal model of exemplary musical performance; 2) value aspect: skillful musical performance was considered important insofar as it served religious aims. Playing secular music was usually frowned upon in Jewish thought, up to the present time. III) Musical creativity. This dimension deals with music composition, and the discussion centered on the following two aspects: 1) liturgical aspect: composition relates to prayer, that is, to piyyut. The attitude to the text of piyyutim ultimately touches on their musical value; 2) consciousness aspect: in the modern era, attention was devoted to the association between composition and the composer’s religious world.

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IV) Music as aesthetics. This dimension deals with the perception of music as an expression of beauty and as an experience, focusing on two aspects: 1) categorization: music is categorized in relation to other branches of aesthetics (visual arts, and so forth); 2) listening as an experience: judging the aesthetic experience derived from music in the consciousness of the modern religious person.

Development or Layering? Regarding the standing and value of music in Jewish thought, the following three approaches were considered in the discussion: 1)  functional or instrumental standing: music is a means for the attainment of utilitarian aims—religious (such as prophecy and communion) or “secular” (such as healing and peace of mind). 2)  representative and metaphorical standing: music represents sublime values at the cosmic and religious level (musical harmony represents cosmic harmony, music’s earthly dimensions reflect the musical dimensions of the kabbalistic divine sefirot, and so forth); 3)  essential and independent standing: music is intrinsically important, and therefore, it is also a form of dialogue with God and with others. These three positions can be viewed as describing a development or as existing concurrently. In chapters four and five, I considered two general views of music—on the one hand, as a means and an instrument, and on the other, as a representational realm providing many metaphors and striving to be intrinsically significant (a “divine art” in the Middle Ages and an independent aesthetic realm in modernity). These chapters reflect the dialectic that characterizes the standing of music in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. In one sense, I described a voyage that begins with an instrumental approach and leads to music becoming a natural part of a religious world. The next station in this voyage is the perception of music as a representation of the cosmic, social, and personal-existential order. Finally, music emerges as an independent language and as a feature of the divine revelation, in parallel with the perception of listening to music as an aesthetic experience. In other words, I interpret the representative phase of music as an intermediate stage between the instrumental and the intrinsic, independent perception.

Summing Up

I assigned great significance to the perception of music as a symbol because symbolic language strives for independent existence. In modern philosophical and linguistic research, we see a movement toward the detachment of the linguistic from the general texture. It is well illustrated by the development of Wittgenstein’s thought: at one end there is a perception of language as the mirror of the world, evident in his early writings, and at the other is a perception of language as existing autonomously, evident in his late writings. The symbol is no longer perceived as a representation of reality but as reality itself,1 which also lays the foundations for music’s aesthetic independence. General approaches and models are valuable as research tools. In actual reality, however, approaches are mixed. The place of music in biblical sources as a tool and an instrument, for example, cannot be ignored. Nor can supporters of music’s profound significance as an independent realm disregard its functionality as a psychological element that helps concentration and spiritual elevation as well as providing therapeutic support. Those focusing on the instrumental standing of music at times also show a parallel inclination to see it as a reflection of the world’s harmony. The previous chapters mentioned R. Judah Halevi, who fluctuated between the two approaches. Yet, his philosophy is only one instance of the mixed evaluation of music that developed in Jewish thought. An example from another period is Solomon Steinheim’s claim that music, like other artistic realms, satisfies human demands but, in doing so, becomes an end in itself.2 Actual reality is far more layered than the research models applied to it. In practice, thinkers adopted both approaches and integrated them in complex ways so that the representative approach was at times the source of the instrumental one. Healing through music often relied on the following argument: 1) music reflects the harmony of the world; 2) the harmony of the world reflects the person (the microcosmos idea). Therefore, 3) music reflects the person as well. The use of music, therefore, influences humans and helps to regulate and heal their psychological and physiological structure. This argument underlies

1 2

See, for example, C. M. Bowra, The Heritage of Symbolism (New York: Schocken, 1961). Aharon Shear-Yishuv, ed., Steinheim on Revelation and Theocracy: Selection of Salomon Ludwig Steinheim’s Works ( Jerusalem: Rubin Mass, 1989), 111 [Heb].

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ancient and medieval approaches to music, including some that developed in religious circles. A similar argument is also valid for kabbalistic approaches: 1) music reflects the various dimensions of the divinity (sefirot); 2) the dimensions of the divinity reflect the person (primeval humans and so forth). Therefore 3) music reflects the person as well. These arguments rest, above all, on music’s symbolic standing. Yet, ultimately, they led to the perception of music as a distinct existential feature and as the language of the concrete person. Only in the Romantic period, as noted, do we find an awareness of artistic creativity in general, and musical creativity in particular, as neither a metaphor nor a representation but as the inner process of the artist’s individuality, leading to an aesthetic experience per se.3 Most trends of Jewish thought that presented music as an independent representation of the universe or the dynamic of religious life have not yet begun to examine music as a conceptual and religious component. Creative theology sporadically addresses the musical experience as an aesthetic experience with its own unique characteristics.4 Mostly, however, these references are absent from Orthodox thought. Moreover, later cultural developments such as postmodernism, which have often been presented as derived from an aesthetic approach,5 are not discussed in this light in Jewish thought. The question, then, is whether contemporary Jewish thought is ready to face the challenge of relating to music as an inner, substantive, and independent creation, an issue that I partly addressed in chapter six but that still needs to be explored further.

Inside and Outside Retreat and withdrawal in the practical and intellectual attitudes of Jews toward music over time have left their imprint on the philosophical realm. The

3 4 5

J. L. Talmon, Romanticism and Revolt: Europe 1815–1848 (London: Thames and Hudson, 1967), 144. Yochanan Muffs, The Personhood of God: Biblical Theology, Human Faith, and the Divine Image (Woodstock, VT: Jewish Lights, 2005), 113–117. See, for example, Allan Megill, Prophets of Extremity: Nietzsche, Heidegger, Foucault, Derrida (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1985).

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fundamental element in these processes was the status of musical education. In the Middle Ages, the acquisition of theoretical musical knowledge was considered a necessary stage in the training of an intellectual, and, consequently, many thinkers had a basic knowledge of musical theory. In modernity, however, music was not viewed as an inherent part of basic education. To some extent, a contrary process occurred regarding musical performance. Whereas musical performance was not always part of the necessary skills taught to young people in the Middle Ages, in modernity, learning to play an instrument became an indispensable part of education for both boys and girls, and not only in Western Europe. Furthermore, as we approach modern and current times, listening to music as an independent aesthetic experience, on the one hand, and the composition of art music as a cultural activity of unique value, on the other, play a significant role. These processes characterize changes in Western culture, and their influence on the Jewish world cannot be disregarded. Indeed, these processes left a mark on the development of the musical component in Jewish religious and philosophical consciousness. Indirectly, the discussions in this book track the internalization of Western cultural influences in Jewish thought. Fluctuations in the standing of music between inside and outside were not specific to Jewish thought and were also evident in medieval Muslim philosophy and in Christian scholasticism. Similarly, the fundamentally negative attitude toward music as part of a culture of leisure was also a common feature of the three monotheistic religions. The distinction between Jewish thought and that of the surrounding cultures lies, above all, in the polemical aspect discussed in chapter three above. Jews sensed their musical inferiority regarding composition and performance already in medieval times, a fact that clarifies the relegation of the musical component to the margins of philosophical consciousness. Precisely this development, however, attests to this component’s latent presence. Moshe Idel specifically showed this regarding writings of ecstatic Kabbalah. His findings can be discussed within the kabbalistic context but it is possible, and that is my view, that the wide-ranging musical references in ecstatic mysticism could also be part of a compensation mechanism. The “earthly” musical outburst that was curbed and channeled solely to the piyyut erupted as mystical and conscious creativity. The uniqueness of the Jewish stance, then, derives from the Jews’ polemical position and from the compensation mechanism that distanced them from the centers of musical creativity.

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Uniqueness As for the argument about the uniqueness of music in Judaism, some have searched for a specific “Jewish” musical element. Dmitri Shostakovich described Jewish folk music as “laughter through tears.”6 Other famous composers and musicians, such as Igor Stravinsky, also addressed the issue of Jewish music and the place of Jews in musical creativity, while others had reservations about ascribing “national” features to music. I have avoided such questions in this work and confined myself to the standing of music in theoretical thought. Indeed, music’s dialectical standing is not specific to Judaism. Its general status derives from the fluctuation between instrument and goal; between a highly respected pursuit and one characterized by licentiousness, a lower-class pastime; and between science and technical craft. The dominance of the polemical element, however, is especially typical of Jewish thought. Chapter three dealt with philosophical and kabbalistic attempts to determine the musical advantage of the Jewish people. Modern discussions of the Jewish people’s affinity with music have been tarnished by Wagnerian antisemitism. The prominent presence of Jews in certain branches of music cannot be ignored and claims about virtuoso Jewish violinists, for example, have become a platitude. Uri Teplitz, who for many years was the first flutist of the Israeli Philharmonic, writes: “The uniqueness of our violinists has been a longstanding feature. Critics praised them in 1950 when we came to the United States for the first time. And not surprisingly. In the outstanding American orchestras, half of the violinists are Jews. And in ours, all string players are Jews.”7 An attempt was even made to tie California, where some Jewish violinists grew up, to their nationality.8 Some claim that the violin is a component of Jewish identity.9 Jewish thought grappled with this issue with its usual tools, which were mainly rooted in a remote past—the references to the song of the Levites—but

6 7 8

9

Solomon Volkov, ed., Testimony: The Memoirs of Dmitri Shostakovich, trans. Antonina W. Bois (New York: Limelight, 1984), 156. See also Joachim Braun, “Ambiguity of Jewish Elements in the Works of Dmitri Shostakovich,” Dukhan 12 (1989): 159–166 [Heb]. Michael Ohad, Israel Philharmonic Orchestra ( Jerusalem: Keter, 1986), 39 [Heb]. See, for example, an article about the association of violinists Jascha Hefetz (1901– 1987), Yehudi Menuhin (1916–1999), and Isaac Stern (1920–2001) with California: Judith M. Taylor, “Three Jewish Violinists (and California),” Western States Jewish History 38 (2005): 62–86, http://horthistoria.com/articles/articles_articles/ articles_articles_three_jewish_violinists/. Subtitle of an article in The Jerusalem Post. See Elana Estrin, “Did Jews Invent the Violin?,” The Jerusalem Post, August 20, 2009, https://www.jpost.com/magazine/features/ did-jews-invent-the-violin.

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also in the present—claiming the advantage of language or the place of music in the Jewish way of life. In this sense, then, Jewish thought did not pin its advantage only on genius and focused on faith and the divine origin of language, singing, and music.

Evaluation The examination of the musical component in philosophy and Kabbalah suggests that music was valued highest when it was perceived, in one way or another, as a language. During the Middle Ages, the Renaissance, and the Baroque, Jewish thought at times viewed music as the language of nature, that is, as reflecting the natural order, and as a precise lexicon for decoding nature’s behavior. In twentieth-century thought, music was perceived as an independent language or a key to dialogue. According to Franz Rosenzweig, music was not an aesthetic layer added to the system’s foundations but an integral part of the system. For Jacob Neusner and Andre Hajdu, music was the substrate of divine revelation and talmudic creativity. In their texts, the legal positivist exchange in the creativity of the tannaim and amoraim turned into living sounds that reflected the encounter with the divine presence using text, logic, and dialectic. In this sense, the seeds of the view of music planted during the Renaissance and the Haskalah struck roots and even flowered. Music’s mixed standing derives from a further element. On the one hand, music was associated with the senses because it was anchored in sounds, voices, and playing.10 Generally, for many rationalists, the sensorial realm is inferior to the intellectual. Moreover, music is perceived in mediated fashion rather than directly, as was the case for visual arts (“in the physical world, there is nothing as ethereal as music”).11 Many medieval rationalists, therefore, held music in low esteem since, in their view, direct perception (sight, tact) is epistemically more reliable and “truer” than hearing. But hearing is tied to inwardness and to the voice, and mystical literature has discussed this at length. Moshe Idel summed up the appearances of music in Jewish mysticism throughout history as follows:

10 See, for example, Friedrich Kainz, Vorlesungen über Ästhetik: Aesthetics, the Science, trans. Herbert M. Schueller (Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press, 1962), 114–115. 11 Ramban (Nachmanides), Writings and Discourses, vol. 2, trans. Charles B. Chavel (New York: Shilo, 1978), 528.

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The character and direction of Jewish art are theologically predetermined and music only comes to serve them. Since aesthetics was never a significant part of Jewish theology, the music that developed under the “guidance” of various Jewish theologies did not emphasize the aesthetic element, neither in theory nor probably not in practice either.12 These remarks are certainly correct regarding the instrumental perception of music in Jewish thought. Indeed, Jewish mysticism often presented music as a technique that helps to attain various benefits in both the cosmic and religious realms. In R. Abraham Hacohen Kook’s mysticism, music is the key to knowledge as well as to reality. Aesthetics is the key to his thought, but his thought was unique in several ways. A phenomenological perspective on Jewish thought at various times reveals a complex and multilayered picture. At times, music was a representation of the cosmic order, and at times a dialogical expression, “softening” the instrumentalist view of music. In many ways, the functional perception of music was the basis for a conceptual discussion, but this approach led only to hesitant steps toward the autonomous and substantial perception. All perceptions, however, highlighted music’s theological associations, as the Hungarian composer György Kurtág noted: “Consciously, I am certainly an atheist, but I do not say it out loud, because if I look at Bach, I cannot be an atheist.”13 Some of this complex theological picture is what I sought to uncover in this book.

Further Research The exploration of music’s association with Jewish thought is still incomplete. Lacunae in the research during various periods were pointed out above, and the relationship between music, thought, Halakhah, and polemic also requires further attention. Questions such as the weight of the anti-Christian polemical element in regard to Christian music are yet to be addressed.14 Above, I pointed

12 Moshe Idel, “Kabbalah and Music,” in Art and Judaism, ed. David Cassuto (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 1989), 286 [Heb]. 13 Bálint András Varga, György Kurtág: Three Interviews and Ligeti Homages (Rochester, NY: University of Rochester Press, 2009), 86. 14 On the tolerant attitude of R. Joel Sirkis (known as the Bach, 1561–1640), see Louis Jacobs, Theology in the Responsa (London and Boston: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1975), 152; Mordechai Breuer, “On East and West in the Singing of Ashkenaz Jews,” in A Hearing Heart:

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out the apologetic stance that, ex post facto, legitimizes dealing with church music by claiming that it had been “stolen” from the Jews in exile. The polemical issue in the context of music, however, still awaits in-depth study. Another issue that merits further inquiry is that some thinkers presented their work as poems, as did Solomon Ibn Gabirol in Keter Malkhut [The royal crown].15 Music was often composed for these poems and they became part of the liturgy, with the melody becoming an inseparable part of the poem itself.16 A further instance of thought, poetry, and melody coalescing is that of Sabbatean hymns.17 Musical adaptations of Ibn Gabirol’s poems by Barry Saharoff and Rea Mochiach have made them popular among many young people today. What is the melody’s place in the shaping of the theological content or the theological interpretation of poetry? Do the melodies contain motifs or signs that express the idea conveyed in the poetic texts? Note that, in recent years, the encounter between music and thought has reached new heights. The renewed musical interest in piyyutim and the integration between rock or popular music and texts with a religious orientation have created a popular philosophical layer.18 One prominent example is the “transformation” of R. Shlomo Carlebach into a thinker. Carlebach is

15

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Jubilee Volume in Honor of Avigdor Herzog, ed. Yitzhak S. Recanati ( Jerusalem: Renanot: The Jewish Music Institute, 2005), 195–196 [Heb]. The musical issues discussed in the responsa literature are usually confined to the question of whether it is permitted to hear music after the destruction of the Temple and to the prohibitions of hearing women singing or listening to Christian religious music. Very few halakhists have extensive knowledge of the musical repertoire or of the influence of music, an unfortunate state of affairs that seems to persist until today. Israel Levin, Mystical Trends in the Poetry of Solomon Ibn Gabirol (Lod: Haberman Institute for Literary Research, 1986). A question arose as to whether medieval poetry reflects a philosophy, with Ezra Fleischer and Yeshayahu Leibowitz on dispute in this matter. Their articles appeared in the anthology R. Judah Halevi: Philosophical Teachings ( Jerusalem: Ministry of Education, 1975) [Heb]. Nevertheless, the view of Keter Malkhut as reflecting Ibn Gabirol’s Neoplatonic philosophy seems unquestionable and scholars have already discussed this issue. Yosef Tobi, “The Role of Music in the Transition from Prayer to Piyyut,” in Piyyut in Tradition, vol. 2, ed. Binyamin Bar-Tikva and Ephraim Hazan (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2000), 209–229 [Heb]. Moshe Atias published a collection of them in 1948, and others have been discovered since. See, for example Avraham Elqayam, “Başim taci Şabbetai: A Sabbatean Hymn from the Kapancilar Community,” Kabbalah 7 (2002): 225–235 [Heb]. A special issue of De`ot—published jointly by Ne’emanei Torah va-Avodah and the Yaakov Herzog Center of the Religious Kibbutz—deals with the musical awakening. See Jewish Music: Old-New Voices, De`ot 44 (2009) [Heb]. This publication recurrently focuses on new developments in the Orthodox public, testing borders.

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a prolific creator of popular religious music,19 and his religious approach has left its mark in religious society (there are now many “Carlebach” ritual prayer circles, where prayer includes singing and dancing). In Israeli public opinion, Carlebach was not a philosopher and a man of ideas in his lifetime but, after his death, books of popular thought were published in his name, bringing the musician and the thinker together. In this book, I have attempted to outline the status of music in the history of Jewish thought and stress the importance of research on this topic.

Prospects The Jewish world developed a rich liturgical musical culture but did not make music an independent cultural element. One of the current expressions of this approach is the scant number of religious composers of art music and their negligible weight as culture heroes. Attempts are now being made in the rabbinic world to direct attention to music as an important formative element, which surfaced in response to two trends: 1) (mainly popular) music plays an important role in the life and education of adolescents; 2) there are also ideological attempts to revive music in preparation for the building of the Temple and the return of the song of the Levites. These trends hardly relate to music as part of artistic expression or to music’s independent value. The evaluation of the prospects for religion and music is related to the general evaluation of modernity’s influence in the religious world. Jewish thought has assigned supreme importance to the spoken and written word and relegated sounds to second place. A deep perception of music has occasionally surfaced but it was never widespread. Will music become an essential element of religion and philosophy in Judaism? Will the musical religious revival conveyed in cantorial spectacles, in Hasidic rock, and in traditional music ultimately influence the shaping of ideas? No clear-cut answer is available, and only time will tell.

19 See Sarah Lerer, The Musical Tradition of R. Shlomo Carlebach: A Definitive Analysis of His Works and Musical Style (MA thesis, Bar-Ilan University, Ramat-Gan, 2003).

By Way of an Epilogue This book focused on the musical component of Jewish philosophical consciousness. In some way, however, a writer’s personality invariably plays a part in the writing of a book even if, in the world of academia, scholars labor to distance themselves as far as possible from the object of their research. I have therefore chosen to conclude with a few episodes that expose the musical element in my biography. I was born without roots. The Holocaust deprived my parents of a secondary education. They also came from rural areas in Romania’s northeast and, except for a flimsy connection to Wiznitz Hasidism, on the one hand, and to Eastern European Bnei Akiva, on the other, they bore no spiritual baggage. From my grandparents’ generation, I knew only one grandmother and, since she only communicated in Yiddish, I never went beyond functional exchanges with her. My father’s hearing was seriously damaged after an SS officer struck his ears and, therefore, no musical tradition was ever part of our household. Beside a religious life, the two fundamental values my parents conveyed to me were an admiration for intellectuals (which they had been prevented from experiencing) and a respect for skills (which had helped them to survive in their troubled lives). The first value was expressed, above all, in admiration for my teachers, who had succeeded in acquiring an education and imparting it to others. The second value came forth in the playing of a musical instrument. My only advantage as a classic representative of the second generation was freedom. No one dictated my way. My musical biography is unusual. For quite a few years I played the violin and also learned to play classic guitar. The reason for choosing the violin was prosaic and typical of that generation: a friend of my parents left them a childsize violin that had survived the war. Another manifestation of my good fortune was that, for many years, my violin teacher was Joseph Abilea (1915–1994), our neighbor, who had already been well known in Haifa from the times of the British Mandate. Our homes were on the slopes of Mount Carmel, right below today’s Bahai Gardens and across the road from a Scouts club. This kind and modest man was a committed pacifist and a friend of prominent violinists such

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as Yehudi Menuhin.1 He proudly showed me where Menuhin mentioned him in his autobiography, Unfinished Journey. Abilea was a conscientious objector, the first in Israel’s history, and a symbolic candidate in parliamentary elections (last in the list) of Uri Avneri’s party. Abilea implanted in me a love of music, which turned for me into an elixir of life. Every lesson was a unique musical experience. When he stayed abroad for long stays for his pacifist political activities, I studied in the class of Dr. Zvi Rutenberg, who was then the director of the Haifa Conservatory. Rutenberg was an experienced teacher, stern looking at times but always full of love for his students, and Abilea’s influence on his ten-year-old student’s love of music filled him with wonder. I was unaware of what a life shaped by music would entail. I passionately gulped the popular musical literature and listened again and again to the two 45” records in our home (Mozart’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik and Beethoven’s violin romances). When musical movies were shown, among the few pastimes available at the time, I made sure to go. I was particularly impressed by The Great Walz (1972), starring Horst Bucholz. A close friend, David Rosnack, who would later compose electronic music and write a musical (Saul and Jonathan), spoke of the “percentage“ taken up by music in his life. Another friend, Oded David, today a teacher and rabbi, played guitar beautifully and I followed in his wake. Diverse musical materials quickly became part of my life. Musical newspapers and journals were not available in Israel then. I used to travel by public transport to the one shop at the city center that did receive foreign publications in the hope they had received a copy of Melody Maker. I was surprised to discover that a love of rock and roll, blues, and hard rock did not contradict either deep commitment to classical music or my religious beliefs. Although I was observant, I studied at the Reali High School. As I grew older, it became increasingly difficult for me to study at a non-religious school, although the teachers were outstanding and I was also a good student. At the beginning of my junior year, I considered concluding my high-school studies at a religious school. I took the initiative and asked to meet R. Moshe Ravhon, the principal of the Yavneh School in Haifa. I did not know then that he was an unusual figure, endorsing an approach that combines observance with openness to the world, beside strict Haredi rigor. Rumor held that the supreme spiritual authority of the Haredi world, R. Avraham Karelitz who was known

1 See Anthony Bing, Israeli Pacifist: The Life of Joseph Abileah (Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 1990). Yehudi Menuhim wrote an introduction.

B y Wa y o f a n E p i l o g u e

as Chazon Ish, had ordered Ravhon to remain in Haifa as the school principal. Many graduates have spoken about Ravhon’s powerful influence on their personality. My meeting with him took place at his Haifa home late at night, and as soon as I entered the dark apartment I made up my mind. Sideways, I caught sight of a pile of records and, on top, the violin romances of Beethoven so dear to me, performed by Josef Suk. When I, a brazen adolescent, expressed my amazement, Ravhon dismissed this out of hand as if implying he had no time to deal with trivial issues and perhaps also because of embarrassment. But I found a rabbi and a teacher. I loved musicians, admired them, read about them, drew them. The “technocratic” image and style of Herbert von Karajan left an indelible impression on me. My uncle Shraga Golz, an insightful talmudic researcher I dragged with me to a concert of the Israeli Philharmonic in March 1980 when I was studying at the military yeshiva, looked on disdainfully when I went behind the scenes to ask conductor Walter Weller for his signature. As a soldier, I attended concerts of the Philharmonic for free and, in the intermissions, tried to speak with artists such as Isaac Perlman. I asked him why he had not recorded with von Karajan (unlike, for example, Gidon Kremer), and he said that, given the questions about the conductor’s cooperation with the Nazi regime, he had chosen to refrain from working together. For conservative and religious reasons, I drew back from attending rock concerts. I was seventeen the first time I dared to go to one. Living with music included a connection with rock musicians, some of whom set the ethos of my “youth culture.” In the late 1970s, Ariel Zilber occupied a special symbolic place in my biography. Contrary to musicians such as Shalom Hanoch and Shlomo Artzi, who conveyed sorrows and misgivings (Nissim Calderon defined this as a transition from patriotic songs to rock), Ariel Zilber’s creations were simple, self-confident, and unthreatening, while also casually, as it were, shattering accepted myths. He was one of the founders of the Tamuz pop group, which later disbanded because of this style. Zilber’s rock music and its texts spoke to the 1970s youth. His songs presented empty characters, lazily looking at the big struggles, and bearing tidings of a return to free and simple love. It was a breath of fresh air and even a refuge at a time of big ideologies. In the late 1990s, he embarked on a new course. In the middle of a performance at a Tel Aviv club, he suddenly spoke up in favor of Jewish settlement in the Gaza Strip. It is an irony of fate that I was the one who, in later years, prevented sending an invitation to him to appear at an evening that the Center for Research on Popular Israeli Music at the Department of Music of Bar-Ilan University devoted to

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Haim Hefer. I feared he would slide into blatant political statements after he had changed his taste and his ways. For several years starting in the mid-1980s, I taught Jewish thought at the Horev women’s college in Jerusalem. Although many of the students came from homes that were part of the city’s intellectual religious elite, there was no demand for a musical stream. One day I approached the principal, Meir Jacobowitz. He looked in despair at a paper on his desk—an analysis of Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony. When I offered to assess it, he showed great relief and hurried to give me the paper of another student on the life and work of Tchaikovsky. When I graded it 85, the student asked for an explanation for the “low” mark, and I said she should have considered the diary of this troubled and stormy composer as well as other secondary sources. The student then vaguely admitted that this had also been the assessment of her teacher at the conservatory but quoted her as saying “in a school such as yours [religious . . .] you’ll probably get a higher mark because there’s no one there who really knows the field.” Although I did not develop as a performing musician and pursued other paths in the humanities, my academic interests led me back to music in winding ways. The Department of Music at Bar-Ilan University is part of the Faculty of Humanities and, when I served as Dean of the Faculty, I dealt with promotions in the Department. I can hardly describe my excitement when holding letters from composer Luciano Berio or from a sensitive and accomplished violist such as Kim Kashkashian addressed to me. In the wake of a series of events that I hope to discuss at length one day, as dean of the faculty and together with Prof. Eitan Avitsur who headed it at the time, we rebuilt a conflicted and crumbling Department of Music. When I finished my term as dean (2003–2006), senior members of the Department of Music asked me to step in after Prof. Avitsur ended his term. After some hesitations, I agreed and fulfilled this role for five years. All my doubts were dispelled. During this wonderful period, I met musicologists, composers, and music therapists. I see the tension between musicologists and creative artists (an imprecise labeling) as fruitful and challenging. My encounters led me to seek the conceptual roots of music and its place in the conceptual framework of Jewish thought. When my children were born, I discovered a bitter truth. Listening to and merging with music when little ones run around you is impossible. From my past as an only child, with thousands of hours of listening while carefully and persistently following scores (all my pocket money was spent on scores and records), I found myself thrown into a different reality. The musical element, however, changed form, and listening was replaced by musical education.

B y Wa y o f a n E p i l o g u e

I endeavored to impart a love of music to my six children through a systematic musical education: Binyamin, (guitar), Yaakov (guitar), Pnina (violin), Elyashiv (percussion), Renana (piano), and Tsurit (guitar). The intensity of my family’s musical education owes a debt to Gila, my life partner and the pillar of our home, who is herself a talented accordionist and began her academic career at Bar-Ilan’s Department of Music. I have been fortunate in finding many wondrous and meandering ways of communicating with my children, but the musical way surpassed all others. This is one of the deepest meanings of music as a language. Vivaldi’s and Bach’s double violin concerti and the guitar duets I played with my children to accustom them to play in a team were only one expression of the musical communication between us. Playing in a duet teaches its members to understand the value of a wink, a facial expression, and a visual gesture. While making music together, parent and child learn to become acquainted with one another and communicate without words. Recent studies in music therapy have only begun to expose the infinite options of musical communication. Music is a way of life, as is also Halakhah. They can be reconciled, but those who think that they coalesce delude themselves. Some stations in my life have sharpened this conflict. Already in my youth, my love of Western religious music posed the problem of listening to Christian texts. The distress was genuine. I asked for the advice of a teacher and friend, R. Moshe Friedman, who was the rabbi of the Hadar ha-Carmel neighborhood’s central synagogue. He reassured me by noting that since the pleasure comes from the integration of words into music rather than from their meaning, he sees no problem in listening to church music. When I came to the Kerem be-Yavneh yeshivah in 1980, I faced a problem with listening to music during mourning periods in the Jewish calendar—the seven weeks of the Counting of the Omer and the three weeks commemorating the destruction of the First and Second Temples. A bitter dispute arose between the yeshiva’s halakhist, R. Ephraim Rubinstein, and myself. I showed him various halakhic sources, which stated that the prohibition only applies to music that leads to dancing. By contrast, I claimed, listening to art music is a cultural experience that has no physical expression. Ultimately, R. Rubinstein allowed me, against his will, to listen to music using earphones. I assume his intention was that I would not lead others to stumble. Another episode occurred when I was Dean. Female students in the choir course approached the campus rabbi, R. Shlomo Shefer, and claimed they were required to sing in the class in the presence of male students. R. Shefer consulted with R. Yaakov Ariel, the Ramat-Gan city rabbi, and told the female students that they were indeed forbidden to sing before men. The choir course is

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compulsory for BA students. Prof. Eitan Avitsur asked for my help and both of us met with R. Shefer and with Dr. Leah Silver, who taught the choir course. At the meeting, I suggested a compromise solution. The halakhic rule is that evidence at the court cannot be heard in a choir (several witnesses speaking together), but this ruling is not relevant to the hearing of a woman’s voice, so we might allow students who wish to do so to sing in pairs. The suggestion was accepted. I believe that only at Bar-Ilan University was such a situation possible, and I am proud of that. This book was born out of deep appreciation and love of music and its messengers and, possibly, also from the initial blooms of my reconciliation with the choice of an academic, non-musical path. It is my prayer that my love will not upset my judgment.

Selected Bibliography Ackerman, Ari. “A Magical Fragment of David Ibn Bilia’s Me’or Enayim.” Kabbalah 1 (1996): 73–80. Adler, Israel, RISM: Hebrew Writings Concerning Music in Manuscripts and Printed Books: From Geonic Times Up to 1800 (Munich: G. Henle, 1975). ———.“The Rise of the Art of Music in the Italian Ghetto.” In Jewish Medieval and Renaissance Studies, edited by Alexander Altmann, 321–364. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1967. Allen, Warren Dwight. Philosophies of Music History: A Study of General Histories of Music 1600–1960. New York: Dover, 1962. Altmann, Alexander. “Maimonides’ Attitude toward Jewish Mysticism.” In Studies in Jewish Thought: An Anthology of German Jewish Scholarship, edited by Alfred Jospe, 200–219. Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press, 1981. ———. Moses Mendelssohn: A Biographical Study. Tuscaloosa, AL: University of Alabama Press, 1973. ———. Studies in Religious Philosophy and Mysticism. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1969. Babich, Babette E. Nietzche’s Philosophy of Science: Reflecting Science on the Ground of Art and Life. Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1994. Barzilay, Isaac E. Between Reason and Faith: Anti-Rationalism in Italian Jewish Thought 1250–1650. The Hague: Mouton, 1967. Bland, Kalman P. The Artless Jew: Medieval and Modern Affirmations and Denials of the Visual. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2000. Braun, Joachim. Music in Ancient Israel/Palestine: Archeological, Written, and Comparative Sources. Translated by Douglas W. Stott. Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Erdmans, 2002. Bürger, Peter. Theory of the Avant-Garde. Translated by Michael Shaw. Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 1984. Butcher, S. H. Aristotle’s Theory of Poetry and Fine Arts. New York: Dover, 1951. Campbell, Joseph, ed. Man and Time: Papers from the Eranos Yearbooks. Vol. 3. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1957. Chabrier, Jean-Claude. “Musical Science.” In Encyclopedia of the History of Arabic Science, edited by Roshdi Rashed, vol. 2, 581–611. London: Routledge, 1996. Cohen, Boaz. Law and Tradition in Judaism. New York: Ktav, 1959. Eco, Umberto. A Theory of Semiotics. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1977. Farmer, Henry George. Saadia Gaon on the Influence of Music. London: Arthur Probshtain, 1943. Faur, José. Homo Mysticus: A Guide to Maimonides’ Guide for the Perplexed. Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 1998. Flint, Valerie I. J. The Rise of Magic in Early Medieval Europe. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1991.

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Friedheim, Emmanuel. “Jewish Society in the Land of Israel and the Challenge of Music in the Roman Period.” Review of Rabbinic Judaism 15 (2012): 61–88. Friedman, Maurice S. Martin Buber’s Life and Work: The Early Years, 1878–1923. Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press, 1988. Gibbs, Robert. Correlations in Rosenzweig and Levinas. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1992. Goitein, Shlomo Dov. A Mediterranean Society: The Jewish Communities of the Arab World as Portrayed in the Documents of the Cairo Genizah. Vol. 5. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1988. Goodman, Israel M. The Life and Times of Rabbi David ibn Abi Zimra: A Social, Economic, and Cultural Study of Jewish Life in the Ottoman Empire in the 15th and 16th centuries as Reflected in the Responsa of the RDBZ. New York: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1970. Grözinger, Karl Erich. Jüdisches Denken: Theologie, Philosophie, Mystik. Vol. 3. Frankfurt and New York: Campus, 2009. ———. Musik und Gesang in der Theologie der frühen jüdischen Literatur: Talmud, Midrasch, Mystik. Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1982. Guerrière, Daniel, ed. Phenomenology of the Truth Proper to Religion. Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1990. Guthrie, W. K. C. The Greeks and Their Gods. Boston: Beacon Press, 1955. Harrán, Don. “‘Dum recordaremur Sion’: Music in the Life and Thought of the Venetian Rabbi Leon Modena (1571–1648),” Association for Jewish Studies Review 23 (1998): 17–61. ———. “Tradition and Innovation in Jewish Music of the Later Renaissance.” In Essential Papers on Jewish Culture in Renaissance and Baroque Italy, edited by David B. Ruderman, 474–501. New York: New York University Press, 1992. ———. “Was Rabbi Leon Modena A Composer?” In The Lion Shall Roar: Leon Modena and His World, edited by Raphael Bonfil, 195–248. Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2003. Harvey, Steven, ed. The Medieval Hebrew Encyclopedias of Science and Philosophy. Dordrecht: Klewer, 2000. Harvey, Warren Zev. “Ethics and Meta-Ethics: Aesthetics and Meta Aesthetics in Maimonides.” In Maimonides and Philosophy: Papers Presented at the Sixth Jerusalem Philosophical Encounter, edited by Shlomo Pines and Yirmiyahu Yovel, 131–138. Dordrecht: M. Nijhoff, 1986. Herman, Jonathan R. I and Tao: Martin Buber’s Encounter with Chuang Tzu. Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1996. Idel, Moshe. “Conceptualization of Music in Jewish Mysticism.” In Enchanting Powers: Music in World’s Religions, edited by Lawrence E. Sullivan, 159–188. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1997. ———. “Judah Moscato: A Late Renaissance Jewish Preacher.” In Preachers of the Italian Ghetto, edited by David B. Ruderman, 41–66. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1992. Idelsohn, Abraham Z. Jewish Music in Its Historical Development. New York: Dover, 1992 [1929]. Ingarden, Roman. The Work of Music and the Problem of Its Identity. Translated by Adam Czemiawski. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1986. Jacobs, Louis. Hasidic Prayer. New York: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1972.

Selected Bibliography

———. Theology in the Responsa. London and Boston: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1975. Jaeger, Werner. Paideia: The Ideals of Greek Culture. Vol. 2. Translated by Gilbert Highet. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1944. Jospe, Raphael. “Jafet in Sems Zelten: oder was die Talmudischen und jüdischen Philosophen unter ‘Weisheit des Griechischen’ verstanden.” Judaica: Beiträge zum Verstehen des Judentums 65 (2009): 281–322. ———. Jewish Philosophy: Foundations and Extensions. Vol. 2. Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 2008. Kainz, Friedrich. Aesthetics the Science. Translated by Herbert M. Schueller. Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press, 1962. Kaplan, Edward K. Spiritual Radical: Abraham Joshua Heschel in America 1940–1972. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2007. Karp, T. C. “Music.” In The Seven Liberal Arts in the Middle Ages, edited by David L. Wagner, 169–195. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1983. Kaufmann, David. Geschichte der Attributenlehre in der Jüdischen Religionsphilosophie des Mittelalters von Saadja bis Maimûni. Gotha: F. A. Perthes, 1877. Keren, Zvi. Contemporary Israeli Music: Its Sources and Stylistic Development. Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 1980. Kraemer, Joel L. “Maimonides on the Philosophic Science in His Treatise on the Art of Logic.” In Perspectives on Maimonides: Philosophical and Historical Studies, edited by Joel L. Kraemer, 77–104. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991. Kreisel, Howard. Prophecy: The History of an Idea in Medieval Jewish Philosophy. Dordrecht: Kluwer, 2001. Liébert, Georges. Nietzsche and Music. Translated by David Pellauer and Graham Parkes. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004. Lloyd, G. E. R. Early Greek Science: Thales to Aristotle. London: Chatto and Windus, 1982. Loewenthal, Naftali. “Spirituality, Melody, and Modernity in Habad Hassidism.” In Proceedings of the First International Conference on Jewish Music, edited by Steve Stanton, 62–78. London: City University Press, 1997. Macomber, William B. The Anatomy of Disillusion: Martin Heidegger’s Notion of Truth. Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 1967. Megill, Allan. Prophets of Extremity: Nietzsche, Heidegger, Foucault, Derrida. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1985. Merkle, John C., ed. Abraham Joshua Heschel: Exploring His Life and Thought. New York: Macmillan, 1985. Mettler, Cecilia C. History of Medicine: A Correlative Text Arranged according to Subjects. Philadelphia: Blakiston, 1947. Moricz, Klara. Jewish Identities: Nationalism, Racism, and Utopianism in Twentieth-Century Music. Berkeley: CA: University of California Press, 2008. Mosès, Stéphane. System and Revelation: The Philosophy of Franz Rosenzweig. Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press, 1992.

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Nemtsov, Jascha. Der Zionismus in der Musik: Jüdische Musik und nationale Idee. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2009. Neusner, Jacob. Judaism’s Theological Voice: The Melody of the Talmud. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995. Parkes, Graham. Composing the Soul: Reaches of Nietzsche’s Psychology. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994. Poma, Andrea. The Critical Philosophy of Hermann Cohen. Translated by John Denton. Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1997. Roth, Norman. “The ‘Theft of Philosophy’ by the Greeks from the Jews.” Classical Folia 32 (1978): 53–67. Sarton, George. Introduction to the History of Science, vol. 3: Science and Learning in the Fourteenth Century. Baltimore: William and Wilkins, 1948. Schindler, Pesach. Hasidic Responses to the Holocaust in the Light of Hasidic Thought. Hoboken, NJ: Ktav, 1990. Schwartz, Dov. Faith at the Crossroads: A Theological Profile of Religious Zionism. Translated by Batya Stein. Leiden: Brill, 2002. ———. “Ideas vs. Reality: Multiculturalism and Religious Zionism.” In The Multicultural Challenge in Israel, edited by Avi Sagi and Ohad Nahtomy, 200–225. Boston: Academic Studies Press, 2009. ———. “Is It Possible to Write a History of Jewish Thought?” The Annual of Rabbinic Judaism 6 (2003): 285–300. ———. Religious Zionism: History and Ideology. Translated by Batya Stein. Boston: Academic Studies Press, 2009. Seroussi, Edwin. “The Turkish Makam in the Musical Culture of Ottoman Jews: Sources and Examples.” Israel Studies in Musicology 5 (1990): 43–68. Shapiro, Marc B. Between the Yeshiva World and Modern Orthodoxy: The Life and Works of Rabbi Jehiel Jacob Weinberg. Oxford and Portland, OR: Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2007. Shiloah, Amnon. “A Passage by Immanuel ha-Romi on the Science of Music.” Italia 10 (1993): 9–18. ———. “Jewish and Muslim Traditions of Music Therapy.” In Music as Medicine: The History of Music Therapy since Antiquity, edited by Peregrine Horden, 69–83. Aldershot, Hants: Ashgate, 2000. ———. “Maïmonide et la musique.” In Présence juive au Maghreb: Hommage à Haïm Zafrani, edited by Nicholas S. Serfaty and Joseph Tedghi, 497–506. Paris: Bouchene, 2004. ———. Music and its Virtues in Islamic and Judaic Writings. Aldershot, Hampshire: Ashgate, 2007. ———. “Musical Concepts in the Works of Saadia Gaon.” Aleph 4 (2004): 265–282. Sigerist, Henry E. A History of Medicine, vol. 1. New York: Oxford University Press, 1951. Siraisi, Nancy G. The Clock and the Mirror: Girolamo Cardano and Renaissance Medicine. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1997. Summers, David. The Judgment of Sense: Renaissance Naturalism and the Rise of Aesthetics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987.

Selected Bibliography

Taub, Liba Chaia. Ptolemy’s Universe: The Natural Philosophical and Ethical Foundations of Ptolemy’s Astronomy. Chicago and LaSalle, IL: Open Court, 1993. Taylor, A. E. Plato: The Man and his Work. New York: Meridian, 1963. Thorndike, Lynn. A History of Magic and Experimental Science, vol. 2. New York: Columbia University Press, 1923. ———. A History of Magic and Experimental Science, vol. 3. New York: Columbia University Press, 1934. Tirosh-Rothschild, Hava. Between Worlds: The Life and Thought of David ben Judah Messer Leon. Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1991. Trachtenberg, Joshua. Jewish Magic and Superstition: A Study in Folk Religion. New York: Atheneum, 1970. Underhill, Evelyn. Mysticism: A Study in the Nature and Development of Man’s Spiritual Consciousness. New York: Meridian Books, 1955. Walker, D. P. “Orpheus the Theologian and Renaissance Platonists.” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 16 (1953): 100–120. Werner, Eric, and Isaiah Sonne. “The Philosophy and Theory of Music in Judaeo-Arabic Literature.” Hebrew Union College Annual 16 (1941): 251–319 and 17 (1942): 511–572. Wilkinson, Robert. “Art, Emotion and Expression.” In Philosophical Aesthetics, edited by Oswald Hanfling. Milton Keynes: Open University Press, 1992. Wind, Edgar. Pagan Mysteries in the Renaissance. London: Faber and Faber, 1958. Zonta, Mauro, ed. La “Classificazione delle Scienze” di Al-Fārābī nella Tradizione Ebraica. Torino: Zamorani, 1992.

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Index of Subjects

Abstraction, 70–71, 152, 201, 284, see also Subjectivism Aggadah, 16ff., 31, 62, 69, 75 Aesthetics, 1–3, 25, 67, 82, 84–90, 125, 126– 127, 134, 213, 218–210, 226, 236, 243, 249–251, 254, 261–263, 286, 292 Antiphon, 102 Apocrypha, 2, 8, 53n26, 153 Apprehension, 112–113 Assimilation, 225 Astrology, 2, 166–168 Avant-garde, 14, 99 Behavior, 1 Bible, 1–2, 16, 68–69, 180 Biblical instruments, 19–20 Biblical poetry, 90, 107n75, 213, 219, see also Hymns Post-biblical poetry, 243 Cantillations, 11, 31, 38-40, 61, 64, 85, 89, 104–105, 113, 119, 130, 140, 160, 180n191, 202, 214, 234 Cantor, cantoral music, 11, 42–43, 47, 61, 78, 93, 119n126, 128, 131, 294 Choir, 22, 200–201, 222, 231–232 Christianity, 2, 11, 12, 46, 96, 222 Composition, composers, 40, 82, 93, 95, 118, 124–125, 131, 143, 232 Communication, 157, 221–222, 299 Concentration, 139, 176–177 Content, 13, 35, 61,63, 68, 104, 122, 123, 126, 128, 247–248, 253n55, 256, 285 Consciousness, 2, 36, 45, 70, 72, 73, 89, 219 Creativity, 61, 80, 91, 93, 94, 179–180, 225, 235, 267–268, 279 Custom, 41–42 Dance, 33-34, 44, 47–48, 50, 77–79, 81, 83, 146, 150n60, 158–159, 161–162, 168, 174–175, 202, 258, 263, 275n150 Dialogue, 219–220, 235 Ecstasy, 79, 80, 137, 157–158 Education, 42–43, 44, 46–47, 51, 82, 294

Elevation, 128, 265–266, 276 Emanation, 112–113, 136, 138, 139–142, 155, 159, 160, 168–174, 179, 183, 203–206, 208–209, 249, 260, 265–266, 273, 276 Emotion, 21, 63, 72, 88–89, 138, 145, 146, 153, 206n88, 223, 231, 258, 260–261, 273 Enlightenment, 51, 75, 82, 100, see also Haskalah Ethics, 68–69, 86 Ethnomusicology, 2, 11, 32, 37, 39–40n107, 85, 99, 117, 200 Experience, 200–201, 207, 226ff., 256, 260 Feelings, 21, 67, 72, 78, 147, 151, 254, see also Abstraction Folklore, 30, 39, 88, 134 Genius, 270–276 Gentile environment, 43, 49, 68, 91–93, 105– 108, 160, 198–199, 239–240, 283, 289, see also Christianity, Muslim views on music, Pagan images difference in aesthetics, 126–127, 128 music and interreligious polemic, 92ff., 129, 130 Halakhah, 40–42, 49, 65, 68, 72, 96–97, 108– 110, 114–115, 137, 299–300 Hallel, 102, 222 Harmony, 27, 53, 56–59, 84–85, 87, 127, 134, 137, 147, 151, 163, 179, 184–189, 191– 193, 195, 200–201, 204, 209–211, 221, 221n139, 231, 233, 236, 245, 249, 255, 260, 263, 264, 272, 276, 282, 286 harmony of the universe (world’s harmony, harmony of spheres, cosmic order), 33, 57–58, 89, 137, 156, 185–186, 190, 208n95, 280n176, 287 inner harmony, 151, 162–163 Haskalah, 34–35, 66, 75, 82–83, 84, 86, 87, 120, 122–123, 154, 212, 216 Hasidism, Hasidim, 41, 43, 44, 76–81, 154–162, 172–174, 194, 245–246, 252, 261, 270 Habad, 115–116, 172–174, 202–203, 212

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Healing, 37, 59, 60, 162–166, 180, 192–193, 287 Hermeneutics, 12–15 Holidays and fasts, 81n137, 158n93, 230 High Holidays, 71 Ninth of Av, 44 Passover, 95, 102 Purim, 42 Sabbath, 30, 35, 41–42, 44, 50–51, 128, 155, 243 Simchat Torah, 44 Yom Kippur, 71–72, 149 Ten Days of Awe, 145, see also Selichot wedding, 44 Holiness, 254–256, 259–260, 268–269 Holocaust, 100 Hymns, 20 Joy, 41, 42, 59, 135–136, 139, 140–143, 149, 153–154, 157–159, 161–162, 164–165, 203–204, 233, 259, 269 Idealism, 87, 219 Imagination, 59–60, 161 Immanence, 115, 122 Inspiration, 24–26, 29, 112–113, 143, 265, 269 Israel Philharmonic Orchestra, 95, 117, 297 Kabbalah, 3, 4, 18, 23, 25, 39, 41, 75, 81, 104, 111–113, 118, 136, 139–142, 143, 144, 157, 159, 176–180, 202–203, 259, 289 Klezmorim, 42, 50 Knowledge, 199, 201, 254–256, 260, 264, 270 Language (tongue), 175 Leisure, 34–35, 49, 83 Listening, 30, 56, 205, 298 Liturgy, 27, 42, 66, 92, 102, 221–223, 294 Magic, 2, 4, 136, 155, 166–181, 216 Mathematics, 36, 53, 56–57, 59 Melody, 18, 32–34, 41, 44, 53, 54, 61, 67, 77, 79, 85, 86, 104–105, 108, 110, 116, 178, 187, 193, 220, 241 Messianism, 2, 199, see also Redemption Microcosm, 188 Mizrachi, 239–248, 280 Musar, 217–218 Music advantage of Jews in, 97–131, 290 connection of Jewish leaders with, 117–118, 147 in the past, 101–104, 113–114 in the present, 104–108 and mourning, 40, 152 and religion, 120ff., 135 as craft, 46, 52–54, 56, 85, 273, 290, see also Musical performance



as science, 46–47, 52–60, 64–65, 82, 84, 94, 96ff., 102–103, 119–120, 290 as representation, 37, 70, 183, 185ff., 235– 237, 254 church music, 40, 92–93, 94–95, 221–222 in exile, 67–68, 130, 198 in synagogue, 40, 61, 128, 131, 226, 230– 231, 235, 246, 284 in the life of the Jewish people, 91ff., 99, 117ff., 121 independent value of music, 132–134, 184ff., 236, 287, 294 inferiority of Jewish music, 95ff. instrumental character of music, 37, 59, 132–135, 182, 227, 237, see also Music, as craft secular vs. religious, 65 works about, 32–33, 36, 120 Musical, 296 Musical education, 27, 40, 47–51, 83, 86, 89, 114, 156, 295–300 Musical instruments, 12, 16–20, 33, 48–49, 54–55, 56–57, 59, 75, 78–79, 81, 84, 128, 138, 149, 177, 194 cymbals, 109–110 flute, 54 harp, 83, 114, 117–118, 178, 214, 217 guitar, 295 lute, 109–110, 118 lyre, 16–17, 28, 30, 33, 75, 167, 176–177, 178, 193, 195–199, 214–216, 217, 223– 224 organ, 40, 226 pipe, 19, 75, 167 shofar, 22, 159, 194–195 tambourine, 34, 139, 180 trumpet, 22, 54, 83, 108–110, 159 violin, 83, 84, 290, 295, 297 Musical performance, 2, 27, 30, 53–54, 81, 118, 131, 156, 163, 186, 226, 232, 249, 259 Musicology, 3–4, 133 Muslim philosophy, 115 `Arabiyya, 92, 93, 101 and Muslim poetry, 107 Muslim views on music, 11, 46, 48, 52, 92 Mysticism, 1, 11, 15–16, 18–19, 25, 36, 135, 145–146, 254, 291–292 Myth, 37, 68–69, 74–82, 89 Nature, 257–258, 271, 291 Neoplatonism, 36, 57, 151, 187 Neopythagoreanism, 36, 57, 186, 189 Neoromanticism, 218

Index of Subjects

Nigun, 145, 154–162, 174, 194ff., 202, 208– 209, 247–248, 249, 251, 256, 271, 282– 283 Pagan images, 74ff., 263–264, see also Myth Personality, 24, 217–226 Phenomenology, 2, 18, 36ff. Philosophy, 36, 43, see also Thought, Jewish; Music, as science Piyyut, 27, 43–44, 46–47, 61–73, 96–97, 108, 246, 251, 282 Pleasure, 84–85, 145, 205, see also Leisure Poetry, 26–29, 31–34, 43, 62, 65, 71, 78, 90, 93, 105–108, 199, 212–214, 218–219, 243, 249, 251–252, 255–257, 259, 272, 282, 293 Practical life, 14 Preaching, 246–247 Prophecy, prophet, 69, 89, 131, 135, 137–146, 160, 183, 219, 269 Prayer, 43, 154–155, 282, see also Liturgy; Music, in synagogue Psalms, 16, 30, 33, 101–102, 106, 111, 149n59, 170, 198, 219 Psychology, 147ff., 164 Rationalism, 52–54, 55, 57, 59–60, 61, 62–65, 73, 110–111, 118, 165, 189, 291 rational knowledge vs. symbolic knowledge, 252–254, 257, 260–261, 281 Recitative, 101, 104–105, 247 Redemption, 129, 146, 195–200, 205, 221– 223, 244, 277, 281 Religion, 1–2, 4, 11, 20–21 Religious Zionism, 38, 127–129, 161, 238– 244, 248–249, 283 Renaissance, 114–115, 130, 134–135, 187, 236, 240–242, 284 Repentance, 207–208, 211, 219 Revelation, 221–223, 229–232, 234, 260, 269 Responsa, 40 Rock music, 297 Romanticism, 95, 131, 134–135, 212, 288

Rhythm, 60, 66, 67, 72, 85, 162–163, 174, 187, 220–222, 249 Sabbateanism, 9, 44, 83, 174n170, 247n34, 293 Sefirot, 19, 23, 75, 115, 116, 139–142, 159, 170–173, 204–205, 209, 259, 268, 272 Self-confrontation, 160 Selichot, 43–44, 67, 219 Shekhinah, 159 Singing, 35, 53, 65, 67, 75, 83, 214, 243, 271– 275, see also Women, singing Song of Songs, 16, 30, 31, 77, 111–113, 142n28, 150, 161, 176n174, 191, 195, 214, 268, 275 Soul, 1, 31, 59, 124, 137, 147–150, 151–152, 177, 186–189, 193, 207, 215, 223–226, 241–243, 256, 258, 265–266, 271, 274 Subjectivism, 124–125 Suffering, 219, 262–263 Symbolization, 13, 20ff., 288 Talmud, 30, 31, 68, 228, 231, 233 Thought, Jewish, 7–12, 14–33, 284–294, see also Hermeneutics; Mysticism, Symbolization and music, 1–12, 46ff. periodization, 36 Temple, 54, 98–99, 131, 149, 244, 258–259 mourning for the destruction of, 2, 35 singing and playing of the Levites, 20, 90, 101–104, 108–113, 114–116, 128–130, 135, 168, 176, 181, 290 Temptation, 46, 76–80, 248 Tikkun, 144, 198 Vitality, 262–263 Voice, 80, 82, 268, 278 Wissenschaft des Judentums, 120ff. Women singing, 40–41, 44, 50–51, 76ff., 83, 299– 300 playing an instrument, 48–49, 83 Youth (young people), 59–60 Zionism, 100, 122–125, 224

309

Index of Names and Works

Abadi, Mordechai, 96-7, 198-99 Abilea, Joseph, 295-96 Aboab, Immanuel, 143n31 Abraham b. David (Rabad), 141n22 Abravanel, Judah (Leone Ebreo), 75n108, 189, 214n119 Abravanel, Isaac, 75, 107-108 Abulafia, Abraham, 4, 139, 143n33, 169, 176, 178-79 Gan Na`ul, 178-79 Chayyei ha-Olam ha-Ba, 176 Abulafia, Todros, 170n141, 195-97 Abū Maʻshar, 167n125 Ackerman, Ari, 55n34 Achad-ha-Am, 122-23, see also Ginsberg, Asher “Man Inside,” 122 Adelman, Howard, 66n82 Aderet, 270-72, see also Rabinowitz-Teomim, Eliyahu David Adler, Israel, 2-4, 32-33, 48n6, 114n107, 188n16 Adorno, Theodor, 250 Akiva, Rabbi, 234 Alami, Shlomo, 43 Alashkar, Joseph, 170 Alba, Yaakov di, 167n128 Albo, Joseph, 66, 275n145 Albotini, Yehuda, 177 Sulam ha-Aliyah, 177 Aldabi, Meir, 164-65, 167-68 Alemanno, Yohanan, 25-26, 214 Alexander, David, 118n123 Al-Fârâbî, Abu Nasr, 8, 48, 52 ‘Ihsâ’ al-‘ulûm [Enumeration of the sciences], 52 Al-Ghazali, 8, 34n89 Alharizi, Yehuda, 29n70, 43, 62n64 Alfasi, Yitzhak (Rif), 31 Alkabetz, Shlomo, 150 Al-Kindi, 187 Allemanno, Yohanan, 170

Allen, Warren Dwight, 187n11 Almosnino, Moshe, 152n71 Aloni, Nehemia, 36n99, 57n43, 93n7, 103n50 Altizer, Thomas J. J., 74n104 Altmann, Alexander, 65n78, 84n152, 85n153, 186n4 Amiel, Moshe Avigdor, 194-95 Amir, Yehoyada, 5, 94n14, 220n136, 222n143 Antokolsky, Mark, 124 Anglès, H., 93n5 Aptowitzer, Avigdor, 120 Arama, Meir, 154 Arama, Yitzhak, 53n25, 154, 187-88, 247 Akedat Yitshak, 154, 187-88 Nigun ha-Olam, 247 Archivolty, Shmuel, 106 Ariel, Yaakov, 299 Aristotle, 8, 21n45, 48, 58n50, 59, 96, 147, 190 Ethics, 8 Politics, 48 Artzi, Shlomo, 297 Asher ben Yehiel (Rosh), 31, 167 Ashkenazi, Eliezer, 60n58, 73 Ashkenazi, Yehuda Leon, 23, see also Manitou Ashkenazi, Yosef ben Shalom, 140-41 Ashtor, Eliyahu, 65n76 Askaria, Abraham, 170 Askira, Abraham, 177 Assaf, David, 86n159, 154n77, 161n106 Assaf, Simcha, 43n122, 48n5, 50n17, 66n80, 163n111 Assevilli, Yom Tov ben Avraham (Ritva), 266n112 Atias, Moshe, 293n17 Avenary, Hanoch, 3, 99n38, 163n114 Averroes, 8-9, 48, 163 Kulliyat, 163 Avicenna, 60, 163 Canon, 60, 163 Aviner, Shlomo, 127, 129 Avitsur, Eitan, 298, 300 Avivi, Joseph, 253n56

312

The Soul Seeks Its Melodies

Azkari, Elazar, 144n37 Azulai, Abraham, 171-72 Ba`al Shem Tov, Israel, 76, 79, 81, 131, 160, 172, 202, see also Besht Babich, Babette, 228n160 Bach, Johann Sebastian, 11, 25, 78n128, 95, 131, 235, 292, 299 Bachrach, Yair, 62n64 Baeck, Leo, 68-69 Essence of Judaism, 68-69 Baer, Yitzhak, 135n5 Bahat, Avner, 4 Bahya ben Asher, 23n51 Commentary on the Torah, 23n51 Baneth, David H., 103n55, 205n85, 105n65 Barak, Uriel, 5 Bar-Ilan, Meir, 257n75 Bar-Tikvah, Binyamin, 5 Baruchson, Shifra, 114n107 Barzilay, Isaac E., 188n17 Bayer, Batya, 16, 17n26, 19n36, 158n90 Beethoven, Ludwig van, 131, 296-98 Beit-Arié, Malachi, 171n150 Ben-Amitai, Avi, 5 Ben-Artzi, Hagi, 249n43 Ben Yehezkel, Mordechai, 30n74, 42n119 Ben-Sasson, Yonah, 244 Ben Shammai, Haggai, 105n65 Ben Shlomo, Yosef, 206n87, 249n42, 259n84 Ben-Uri, Meir (Maximilian Wasbutzky), 127-29 Berdyczewski, Micha Josef, 86-87, 123, 223-24, 226, 237 Bergman, Shmuel Hugo, 76n114 Berio, Luciano, 298 Berlin, Isaiah, 131 Berlin, Zvi Yehuda (ha-Netsiv), 19, 20n39 Berliner, Abraham, 40n110 Besht, 76, 78-79, see also Ba`al Shem Tov Bialik, Chaim Nachman, 252 Bibago, Abraham, 110-11 Derekh Emunah, 110-11 Bing, Anthony, 296n1 Birenbaum, Gabriel, 5 Birnbaum, Edurad, 40n109 Bizet, Georges, 124, 262n93 Carmen, 262n93 Bland, Kalman, 4, 86n159, 99n39, 106n68 Blidstein, Gerald J., 65n78 Blidstein, Yaakov, 138n11 Boetius, 147 Bonfil, Raphael, 114n109 Borochov, Dov Ber, 123-25

Bowra, C. M., 287n1 Brahms, Johannes, 95 German Requiem, 95 Braun, Joachim, 19n36, 290n6 Brenner, Michael, 218n130 Breuer, Isaac, 68, 88-89 Der Neue Kusari [The new Kuzari], 68, 88-89 Breuer, Mordechai, 12, 38n100, 160n100, 292n14 Buber, Martin, 25, 80-81, 218 Or ha-Ganuz [The hidden light], 81 “Productivity and Existence,” 25 Bublick, Gedaliah, 161-62, 245-46 Bürger, Peter, 14 Buzaglo, Shalom, 113n104 Butcher, S. H., 21n45, 147n47 Calderon, Nissim, 27n65, 297 Carlebach, Shlomo, 293-94 Caspi, Nethanel, 110 Chabrier, Jean Claude, 11n2, 52n23 Chamiel, Haim, 110n91 Cherlow, Semadar, 145n40, 263n97, 265n103, 270n128 Cherlow, Yuval, 35 Chuang Tzu, 80n132 Cohen, Boaz, 64n74 Cohen, Dalia, 133-34 Cohen, David, 30, 144, 208, see also Nazir Manginot ha-Tikkunim [The melodies of the tikkunim], 144 Cohen, Hermann, 9, 87, 218-19, 223, 250, 254 Logic of Pure Knowledge, 9 Religion of Reason out of the Sources of Judaism, 218-19 Cohen, Shaye J. D., 41n113 Cohen, Tova, 5, 213 Cohen, Judith, 4, 75n107 Cohen, Yitzhak, 39 Cohen-Alloro, Dorit, 170n142 Cooper, Anthony Ashley, 86, see also Shaftesbury, Earl of Cordovero, Moshe, 141, 142n27 Pardes Rimonim, 142n27 Dan, Yosef, 42n119, 62n61, 81n139, 143n30, 154n77, 188n17 Dana, Yosef, 93n6 David, Oded, 296 David of Makov, 76, 79, 81 Shever Posh`im [The destruction of sinners], 76

I n d e x o f Na m e s a n d Wo r k s

Davidson, Israel, 77n118, 98n28, 103n54, 107n72 Davis, Eli, 169n137 Davis, William B., 166n124 Des Prez, Josquin, 92 De Vidas, Eliyahu, 153 Reshit Chokhmah, 153 Dinur, Ben Zion, 83n147 Dishon, Judith, 65n78 Donolo, Shabtai, 104n56, 168 Doron, Joachim, 100n40 Dov Ber, 160, 188n14, see also Maggid of Mezeritch Dresner, Shlomo, 79n129 Dreyfus, Gustav, 24n54 Dubnow, Simon, 155n81 Dubsewitz, Abraham Dov, 18 Eco, Umberto, 13 Eilon, Eli, 262n91 Eisenstein, Judah, 171n150 Eldad, Israel, 117n121 Eldar, Itamar, 79n130 Elhanan b. Abraham of Askira, 177 Eliav, Mordechai, 49n11 Eliezer of Worms, 143 Chokhmat ha-Nefesh, 143 Elimelech of Lizhensk, 159, 275n148 Elior, Rachel, 153n72 Elqayam, Avraham, 293n17 Emden, Jacob, 49, 80, 83, 172n153 Beit Ya`akov, 80, 172n153 Engel, Yoel, 122 Endress, G., 187n8 Ephraim ben Gershon, 150-51 Ephraim of Sadlikow, 79, 160 Epstein, Abraham, 20n43, 62n60 Epstein, Yehiel Mikhl, 83 Erlanger, Yitzhak, 5 Estrin, Elana, 290n9 Etkes, Immanuel, 42n116, 78n127, 119n126 Even, Wolf, 124n143 Even-Chen, Alexander, 25n59 Eybeschutz, Jonathan, 83, 165, 189n23 Falalak, Hayyim, 53n25 Falaquera, Shem Tov, 8, 52n22 Moreh ha-Moreh, 8 Farissol, Yaakov, 165n122, 182 Farmer, Henry George, 163n114 Faur, José, 63n69 Feiner, Shmuel, 5, 49n15, 66n82, 79n129, 83n151 Fenton, Paul B., 158n91

Ficino, Marcilio, 170 Finkel, Nathan Zvi, 217-18 Fleischer, Ezra, 13n7, 27-28, 105n59, 293n15 Fleischmann, Yaakov, 220 Flint, Valerie I. J., 168 Fraenkel, Yonah, 31n80 Frenkel, David A., 169n137 Freud, Sigmund, 15 Freudenthal, Gideon, 5, 85n155, 148n50 Friedhaber, Zvi, 44n126 Friedheim, Emmanuel, 101n45 Friedman, Maurice, 25n57 Friedman, Menachem Nahum, 86n159 Friedman, Moshe, 299 Gadamer, Hans Georg, 13 Truth and Method, 13 Galen, 60, 96 Galileo, 96 Gans, Chaim, 26n64 Gaon of Vilna (Rabbi Elijah), 119, 243 Garb, Yonathan, 168n135, 170n147 Gelman, Yehuda, 206n88, 249n43 Gerber, Reuben, 265n103, 270n129 Gersonides (Levi b. Gershom), 9, 29, 56, 13839, 147-48, 284, see also Ralbag Gerstein, Arnold A., 76n114 Geshuri, Meir Shimon, 41n115 Gfeller, Kate E., 166n124 Gibbs, Robert, 221n141 Gil, Moshe, 105n59 Ginsberg, Asher, 122, see also Achad ha-Am Glatzer, Nahum, 220n135 Glick, Shmuel, 43n122, 48n5, 50n17 Glickberg, Simon Jacob, 188n17, 247-48 Glucklich, Avner, 104n56 Goitein, Shlomo Dov, 34n89 Gold, Zeev, 248 Nivei Zahav, 248 Goldman, Eliezer, 258n78 Goldshlag, Yitzhak, 128n152 Goldsmith, Shlomo, 219n132 Goldstein, David, 94n9 Golomb, Jacob, 100n41 Golz, Shraga, 297 Goodman, Israel M., 65n77 Gordon, Aharon David, 200-201, 252n53 Gordon, Aryeh Leib, 27n65 Gottlieb, Efraim, 23n51 Kabbalah in the Writings of R. Bahya ben Asher ibn Halawa, 23n51 Gottschalk, Yehiel Alfred, 123n137 Green, Arthur, 112n103, 159n94, 174n170 Gries, Zeev, 5, 150n62, 247n34

313

314

The Soul Seeks Its Melodies

Gross, Abraham, 20n40, 111n94 Gross, Benjamin, 197n55 Gross, Michael, 150n62 Grossberg, Menashe, 194 Grosseteste, Robert, 164n116 Grözinger, Karl Erich, 3, 5, 17n29, 49n10, 75n106, 101n45 Gruenwald, Ithamar, 101n44, 153n72 Grunfeld, Frederic V., 25n57, 131n160, 218n130 Gshuri, Meir Shimon, 158n90, 161n106 Guerriere, Daniel, 36n98 Guthrie, W. K. C., 74n102 Haberman, A. M., 40n110, 43n121 Hacker, Joseph R., 60n58, 150n63 Hacohen, Eliyahu Mordechai, 116 Hacohen, Yitzhak ben Hayyim, 111 Hadar, Adaya, 194n38, 252n52 Hai Gaon, 40 Hajdu, Andre, 39-40n107, 82n140, 95, 158n90, 224-25, 236, 291 Hakham, Amos, 38n100 Halafta ben Dosa of Kefar Hanania, 229 Halevi, Elimelech, 19n34, 31n80 Halevi, Judah, 8, 13n7, 16n13, 27-29, 53, 93, 97, 110-113, 117-18, 121, 124, 127, 163n111, 214, 243-44, 287 Kuzari, 8, 16n13, 53-54, 88, 100-104, 106, 110-111, 114, 118, 149n59, 163n111, 182, 188-89, 193 “O Zion, will You Not Ask after the Welfare of Your Prisoners,” 104n56, 243 Ha-Levi, Pinhas, 109n87 Halkin, Abraham S., 150n62 Hallamish, Moshe, 31n82, 41n115, 135n8, 140n21, 143n33, 152n70, 172n154, 174n168 Halperin, Zvi, 145n40 Hammer, Zevulun, 117-18 Hanfling, Oswald, 231n169 Hanoch, Shalom, 297 Hanslick, Edward, 21 Harel, Yaron, 97n26 Harlap, Yaakov Moshe, 207, 209-11 Harnoncourt, Nikolaus, 78n128 Harrán, Don, 3-4, 35n95, 114n107, 115n111 Harvey, Warren Zev, 63n69, 164n120 Ha-Tikvah, 233 Hayyim Heikel of Amdur, 77n119 Hayyun, Yosef, 20n40, 111 Hazan, David, 181 Hazan, Ephraim, 105n64, 106n66

Hefer, Haim, 298 Hefetz, Jascha, 290n8 Heidegger, Martin, 15 Heinemann, Joseph, 101-102 Heller, Yosef, 123n137 Herman, Jonathan, 80n132 Hershkowitz, Isaac, 228n157 Hertzenberg, Dov, 3 Heschel, Abraham Joshua, 25, 29n71, 143n32, 146 Hirsch, Samson Raphael, 22-23, 67-68, 151-52 Hirshberg, Yehoash, 5 Hopstein, Yisrael (Maggid of Kozhnitz), 42, 81, 271n132 Horowitz, Elliot, 83n148 Hunayn ibn Ishaq, 136n10 Huss, Boaz, 170n147 Huss, Matti, 30n73 Ibn Abbas, Shlomo, 55n35 Ibn Abbas, Judah Ben Sаmuel, 55n35, 57, 163n111 Ibn al-Nakawa, Israel, 39n104 Ibn Bilia, David, 54-55 Ibn Daud, Abraham, 9 Ibn Ezra, Abraham, 20n40, 52n24, 56, 58, 62, 72n97, 92, 106-107, 109n85, 117, 167, 281n180 Eshtahaveh appayim artsa [I will bow down my face to the earth], 107 “Introduction to the First Method,” 106 Ibn Ezra, Moshe, 93 Ibn Gabbai, Meir, 113-14, 189n23 Ibn Gabirol, Shlomo, 8-9, 71, 167n128, 187, 293 Keter Malkhut (Piyyut), 71n95, 167n128, 293 Mekor Chayyim, 8-9, 187 Ibn Latif, Yitzhak, 8, 57-60 Ginzei ha-Melekh, 57-58 Sha`ar ha-Shamayim, 8, 57n44 Ibn Sahula, Isaac, 111-113 Ibn Sayyah, Joseph, 170 Ibn Shuib, Joshua, 117 Ibn Sina, 8 Ibn Tamim, Dunash, 57 Ibn Tibbon, Shmuel, 29, 105n65 Ibn Virga, Shlomo, 48, 135n5 Shevet Yehuda [The scepter of Judah], 48 Idel, Moshe, 4-5, 26, 56n37, 75n108, 111n98, 112n101, 135n8, 138n13, 141n22, 143, 146n42, 155n81, 157n89, 158n93, 168170, 171n149, 172n155-156, 176-77,

I n d e x o f Na m e s a n d Wo r k s

186n4, 187n13, 188n14, 189n23, 190n27, 214n119, 289, 291-92 Idelsohn, Abraham Zvi, 3, 17n28, 99, 121, 161n106 Jewish Music in Its Historical Development, 121 Ikhwān al-Safa (Brethren of Purity), 133n3, 163, 187 Ingarden, Roman, 230, 231n169 Isaacson, Atarah, 5 Ish-Shalom, Benjamin, 206n88, 252n54, 267n116 Jacobowitz, Meir, 298 Jacobs, Louis, 35n95, 158n93, 292n14 Jacobs, Noah, 85 Jaeger, Werner, 135n9 Jawitz, Ze’ev, 126n146, 152n69, 239-44, 283 Toldot Israel, 240 Jellinek, Aharon, 176n176 Jospe, Raphael, 1n1, 5, 10n1, 84n156, 105n63, 228n158 Judah he-Hasid ( Judah ben Samuel of Regensburg), 43, 108 Judah b. Isaac, 98-99 Judah Loew, 197, see also Maharal of Prague Kadman, Gurit, 44n126 Kainz, Friedrich, 200n65, 291n10 Kalkish, Elnathan, 148-49, 151 Kalonymus b. Kalonymus, 34, 52n23, 56n35, 150n60 Kaminka, Samuel, 120 Kanarfogel, Ephraim, 47n4, 66n80 Kant, Immanuel, 21, 84, 87, 117n121, 208n94, 253-54, 261, 267n117 Critique of Judgment, 254 Karajan, Herbert von, 297 Karelitz, Avraham, 296 Karp, T. C., 36n99 Kashkashian, Kim, 298 Katz, Dov, 218n129 Katz, Jacob, 42n117, 43n121, 99n39 Katzew, Jand D., 93n8 Kaufmann, David, 63n67 Kaufmann, Walter, 117n121, 262 Kellner, Menachem Marc, 150n62 Kieckhefer, Richard, 170n144 Kierkegaard, Søren, 224n150, 225n153 Kimelman, Reuven, 41n115 Kimhi, David (Radak), 53, 109n85 Klausner, Joseph, 199 Klatzkin, Jacob, 205n85 Kollender, Aaron, 254n61

Komtiyano, Mordechai, 56-57, 139 Kook, Abraham Yitzhak Hacohen, 5, 23n52, 43, 144, 199, 202-212, 215n125, 238-39, 243, 248-84, 292 Merchavim [Expanses], 263 Orot ha-Teshuvah, 207-208 Kook, Derek, 20 Kook, Zvi Yehuda, 211-12, 267 Koren, Israel, 80n133 Koskoff, Ellen, 175n172 Kraemer, Joel I., 64n73 Krauss, Samuel, 120 Kreisel, Howard, 138n13 Kremer, Gidon, 297 Krochmal, Nachman, 85 Kühn, Johanan, 17n28, 41n112, 120-22, 141 Music in Scripture, Talmud, and Kabbalah, 17n28, 41n112, 120 Kurtág, György, 292 Landau, Y., 120n128 Langermann, Tzvi, 150n62 Lavi, Shimon, 170, 171n149, 172, 189n23 Lebensohn, Micah Josef, 214, see also Mikhal Bat Zion, 214 Kinor Bat-Zion, 216 Leeuw, Gerardus van der, 220n138 Leibowitz, Yeshayahu, 293n15 Leon, Judah Messer, 170 Leone Ebreo, 189, see also Abravanel, Judah Lerer, Sarah, 294n19 Lerner, Yosef Yitzhak, 39n105 Levi ben Abraham, 59-61 Levin, Dinah, 154n77 Levin, Israel, 107n72, 293n15 Levinger, Yaakov S., 64n74, 88n168 Levinsohn, Yitzhak Baer, 76, 82, see also Rybal Levisohn, Shlomo, 213-14, 216 Melitsat Yeshurun, 213 Levy, Zeev, 221n140 Liébert, Georges, 262n90 Liebes, Yehuda, 174n170, 186n4, 198n59 Lipiner, Elias, 39n103 Lloyd, G. E. R., 185n2 Loewenthal, Naftali, 175n172 Lorand, Ruth, 3, 186n3 Lazarus-Yaffe, Hava, 81n139 Luria, Isaac, 139, 142, 157, 178, 205, 243 Sha`ar Ruach ha-Kodesh, 142, 178 Luzzatto, Shmuel David, 38, 76, see also Shadal Bechinat ha-Kabbalah, 38 Ma`ayani, Ami, 39n107 Mabit, 171, see also Moses di Trani of Safed

315

316

The Soul Seeks Its Melodies

Macrobius, 147 Maggid of Dubno, 247 Maggid of Kozhnitz, 42, 81, 271n132, see also Hopstein, Yisrael Maggid of Mezeritch, 81n137, 154, 160, 188n14, 247, see also Dov Ber Maharal of Prague, 197, see also Judah Loew Maimon, Solomon, 85, 154-57, 236 Maimon, Yehuda Leib Hacohen (Fishman), 243-44 Maimonides, 4, 8, 15, 29, 34n91, 35, 48, 53, 58-59, 61-72, 89, 96-97, 108-110, 114, 137-38, 143n32, 164, 189, 269, 275-76, 284 Code, 65n76, 108n81, 110-111, 138n13, 276n152 Guide of the Perplexed, 8, 15, 29, 61, 63, 65, 71, 269 Milot ha-Higayon, 64 Mahler, Gustav, 96, 131, 224-26 Malbim, 16, 34, see also Wisser, Meir Leibush He-Harash ve-ha-Masger, 16 Manitou, 23-24, see also Ashkenazi, Yehuda Leon Mann, Itzhak, 128n152 Mark, Zvi, 79n130, 94n13, 171n150, 174n170, 194n38, 198n58 Mayo, Darius, 96 Mazor, Yaakov, 158n90, 160n100, 161n106, 172n157 Megill, Alan, 251, 288n5 Meir, Jonathan, 174n170 Meir, Michael, 69n88 Melamed, Abraham, 97n27 Menachem b. Zerah, 167-68 Menachem Mendel of Shklov, 119 Menachem Mendel of Vitebsk, 159 Mendelssohn, Moses, 9, 83-85, 148n50, 221n139, 234, 236 Phaedo, 9 Mendelssohn-Bartholdi, Felix, 96, 99, 124, 127 Menuhin, Yehudi, 290n8, 296 Unfinished Journey, 296 Mettler, Cecilia C., 56n38, 162n110 Meyerbeer, Giacomo, 96, 99, 124, 127 Michael, Reuven, 240n1 Mikhal, 214-216, see also Lebensohn, Micah Mirsky, Aharon, 62n63, 64n71 Mochiach, Rea, 293 Modena, Yehuda Arieh (Leon), 26, 35, 48, 66, 114n107 Kol Sakhal, 66-67 Moelin, Yaakov (Maharil), 35

Moricz, Klara, 218n130 Moscato, Judah, 18, 53-54, 59n53, 75, 149n59, 163n111, 188-94, 236, 247, 284 Higayon be-Khinor [The melody of the lyre], 18, 75, 188-92 Nefotsot Yehuda, 18, 163n111 Moses di Trani of Safed (Mabit), 171 Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus, 146, 296 Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, 296 Muffs, Yohanan, 288n4 Nachman of Bratslav, 18n32, 79, 94, 97, 161, 174-75, 194, 198-99, 275n150 Sefer ha-Midot, 198 Nachmanides, 23n51, 291n11, see also Ramban Nahshon, Abraham, 5 Narboni, Moshe, 8-9 Nathanson, Yosef Shaul Halevi, 80 Nazir, 30,144-46, 208-209, 229, 264, see also Cohen, David Neher, André, 33, 68n87 Nemtsov, Jascha, 26n63, 123n137 Neumann, Boaz, 122n134 Neumann, Erich, 251n48 Neusner, Jacob, 16n16, 101n45, 227-37, 282n181, 284, 291 Judaism’s Theological Voice: The Melody of the Talmud, 228-34 Newton, Isaac, 96 Nietzsche, Friedrich, 129n157, 228n160, 251, 254, 261-65 Birth of Tragedy: Out of the Spirit of Music, 261-62, 264-65 Nigal, Gedaliah, 42n119, 79n129, 158n93 Nissenbaum, Yitzhak, 246 Nordau, Max, 100 Nordlingen, Joseph Yuspa Hahn, 49 Novalis, 207n89 Heinrich von Ofterdingen, 207n89 Offenbach, Jacques, 124 Ohad, Michael, 290n7 Ohana, David, 250, 251n46 Oresme, Nicholas, 147, 169n140, 186n6 Oron, Michal Kushnir, 39n104, 144n37 Pachter, Mordehai, 111n97 Pagis, Dan, 27n66, 34n88, 136n10, 164n118 Palestrina, Giovanni, 92 Paniel, Shlomo ben Abraham, 168 Or Einayim, 168 Parkes, Graham, 264n102 Pedaya, Haviva, 41n114, 112n102

I n d e x o f Na m e s a n d Wo r k s

Pel’i, Moshe, 216n127 Peretz, Y. L., 156-57 “Ah Gilgul fun ah Nigun” [The metamorphoses of a melody], 156-57 Perlman, Isaac, 297 Philo of Alexandria, 10, 97, 186n Piazza, Moshe Aharon Rachamim, 74 Pico della Mirandola, 170 Piekarz, Mendel, 160n100 Piron, Shai, 35 Plato, 48, 51, 53, 104, 147, 149, 152, 189, 192 Politeia [The republic], 48 Poma, Andrea, 219n133-134 Portaleone, Abraham ben David, 115 Shiltei ha-Gibborim, 115 Prat Maimon, 110, see also Solomon ben Menachem Profiat Duran (Yitzhak b. Moshe ha-Levi), 39n106, 55n35, 94, 106, 163 Ma`aseh Efod, 39n106, 55n35, 106n68, 163 Ptolemy, 96, 186 Pythagoras, 75, 185, 189, 192 Rabbi Binyamin, 127, 157, see also RadlerFeldman, Joshua Rabinowitz-Teomim, Eliyahu David, 270, see also Aderet Radler-Feldman, Joshua (Rabbi Binyamin), 127, 157 Ralbag, 29, 56, see also Gersonides (Levi b. Gershom) Ramban, 23n51, 291n11, see also Nachmanides Commentary on the Torah, 23n51 Rappel, Dov, 39n106, 55n35, 56n37, 94n12, 163n115 Rashba (Shlomo ibn Aderet), 167 Rashbam, 215n121, see also Shmuel ben Meir Rashi, 31, 41n14, 109n85 Ratzabi, Yehuda, 11n2, 19n37, 43n121 Ravhon, Moshe, 296-97 Ravitzky, Israel, 150n62 Recanati, Menachem, 75n110 Regelson, Abraham, 249n41 Reggio, Yitzhak Shmuel, 66, see also Yashar Reines, Yitzhak Yaakov, 239 Rikki, Raphael Emanuel Hai, 181n196 Rivlin, Hillel (of Shklov), 119, 195n42 Rokah, Elazar, 181 Romano, Immanuel, 94, 98-99 Rosenak, Avinoam, 254n62 Rosenberg, Shalom, 254n62 Rosenblatt, Samuel, 138n13 Rosenblum, Noah, 76n111

Rosenthal, E. I. J., 48n7 Rosenzweig, Franz, 76, 87, 94, 218-223, 236, 284, 291 Star of Redemption, 220, 221n139, 222n142 Rosnack, David, 296 Saul and Jonathan, 296 Ross, Nicham, 156n86 Ross, Tamar, 41n112, 51n20, 266n114 Ross, Jacob Joshua, 226-27 Rotenstreich, Nathan, 81n139 Roth, Cecil, 114n107 Roth, Norman, 97n27 Rothschild, Yaakov, 41n115 Rubinstein, Anton, 124 Rubinstein, Ephraim, 299 Rubinstein, Nikolai, 124 Ruderman, David B., 189n23 Rutenberg, Zvi, 296 Saadia Gaon, 4, 8, 19, 92, 102, 163, 284 Book of Beliefs and Opinions, 8, 163 Saba, Abraham, 113 Sabbatai Zvi, 160n101 Safran, Bezalel, 160n98 Safranski, Ruediger, 250n45 Safrin, Isaac Judah Jehiel, 161n102 Sagi, Avi, 5, 95n19, 224n150 Saharoff, Barry, 293 Salanter, Israel, 217 Sambursky, S., 185n1 Samet, Moshe, 40n110 Samuel ben Hofni, 31-32 Samuel ben Yehuda of Marseilles, 48 Sandler, Daniel, 115n111 Sandler, Peretz, 76n111 Sarton, George, 46 Satanov, Yitzhak, 8 Schatz-Uffenheimer, Rivka, 158n91 Scheler, Max, 70 Schelling, Friedrich, 254 Schindler, Pesach, 41n115 Schirmann, Jefim, 34n90, 93n4, 105n64, 107n73, 110n90 Schleiffer, Eliyahu, 3 Schneerson, Menachem Mendel (Lubavitcher Rebbe), 175n172 Schneerson, Shmuel, 162n109 Schneur Zalman of Lyady, 115, 172-74, 202203, 215n125 Schoenberg, Arnold, 131, 218, 230n167 String Quartet, 230n167 Schoffman, Gershon, 95

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The Soul Seeks Its Melodies

Scholem, Gershom, 39n103, 80-81, 160n101, 177n182, 181n196 Schopenhauer, Arthur, 205n86, 250, 254, 26162, 264 Schütz, Heinrich, 11 Schwartz, Daniel, 5 Schwarz, Michael, 29n70, 63n65 Schweid, Eliezer, 10n1, 81, 124n143, 200n65 Sefer ha-Chinukh, 109 Sefer ha-Peli’ah, 39, 75n110, 178-80, 202 Sefer ha-Razim, 180 Seidel, Jonathan, 180n192 Sela, Shlomo, 58n49 Seroussi, Edwin, 3, 11, 41n115 Shadal, 38, 76, see also Luzzatto, Shmuel David Shaftesbury, Earl of, 86-87, see also Cooper, Anthony Ashley Shahar, Shulamit, 44n127 Shalom, Abraham, 22n48 Naveh Shalom, 22n48 Shalom Aleichem, 42 Stempenyu: A Jewish Romance, 42 Shapira, Abraham, 200n65 Shapira, Hayyim Nahman, 213n114 Shapira, Nathan Ne’ta, 181 Shapiro, Marc B., 50n19 Shefer, Shlomo, 299-300 Shefi, Naama, 100n42 Shem Tov b. Shem Tov, Rabbi, 112n102 Shiloah, Amnon, 2n4, 4, 11n3, 18n30, 20n41, 23n51, 33n85, 34n89, 38n101, 40n108, 41n112, 52n22-23, 56n35, 62n64, 63n70, 64n74, 66n79, 99n37, 104-105, 111n96, 133-34, 148n52, 152n70, 163n111, 164n118, 187n9, 201n67 Shlomo b. Judah of Lunel, 110 Shlomo b. Yitzhak, 177n182 Shmuel ben Meir, 215n121, see also Rashbam Shmuel Shmelke of Nikolsburg, 81n137,158n93 Shochat, Azriel, 50n16, 83, 158n92, 159n94, 174n168 Shostakovich, Dmitri, 290 Shulvass, Moses A., 114n107 Sigerist, Henry E., 147n45 Sigonio, Carlo, 115 De Republica Hebraeorum, 115 Silman, Yohanan, 103n55 Silver, Leah, 300 Simon, Aryeh, 123n137 Simon, Ernst, 95n19 Simon, Uriel, 16n14, 19n38, 92, 102n49, 106n70, 117n118, 163n114 Simonson, Shlomo, 114n108

Siraisi, Nancy G., 56n38 Sirkis, Joel (Bach), 292n14 Sklare, David E., 32n83 Smith (Haran), Chani, 194n38 Sole, M. Z., 258n78 Solomon b. Menachem, 110, see also Prat Maimon Soloveitchik, Joseph B., 70-73, 88, 157, 162 And from There You Shall Seek, 70 Halakhic Man, 70-73 Halakhic Mind: An Essay on Jewish Tradition and Modern Thought, 70, 72 Sonne, Isaiah, 36n99, 46n2, 52n22, 58n48, 60n56 Sperling, Abraham Yitzhak, 80n131, 81n137, 158n93, 159n96 Spinoza, Benedict, 10, 261 Tractatus Theologico-Politicus, 10 Stathagen, Joseph, 83 Statman, Daniel, 5 Stav, David, 31n80, 40n111, 65n76, 150n61 Stein, Batya, 5 Stein, Yehoyakim, 235 Fugue, 235 Steinheim, Solomon Ludwig, 85, 236, 287 Steinman, Eliezer, 242n9 Stern, Isaac, 290n8 Stern, Samuel/Shmuel, 18n32, 19n35, 79n130, 115n114, 161n104-105, 162n109, 174n170 Strassberg-Dayan, Sara, 252n53 Struck, Hermann, 128 Stutschewsky, Joachim, 32n84, 42n118 Suk, Josef, 297 Sulkin, Adi, 34n91 Summers, David, 185n2 Tabori, Joseph, 27n66 Takeshita, Masataka, 186n4 Talmon, J. L., 26n63, 288n3 Ta-Shma, Israel, 148n53 Taub, Liba Chaia, 186n7 Taylor, A. E., 147n46 Taylor, Judith M., 290n8 Tchaikovsky, Petr I., 298 Tene, Ruth, 201n67 Teplitz, Uri, 95, 290 Thaut, Michael H., 166n124 Tsemah, Adi, 3 Thorndike, Lynn, 164n116, 169n140 Tirosh-Rothschild, Hava, 170n146 Tishby, Isaiah, 44n125, 207n89 Tikochinski, Shlomo, 42n116

I n d e x o f Na m e s a n d Wo r k s

Tobi, Yosef, 61n59, 293n16 Todros b. Yosef Halevi Abulafia, 169-70, 195-97 Trachtenberg, Joshua, 164n117 Turel, T., 41n115 Twersky, Isadore, 65n78 Tyrer Hayyim of Chernowitz, 278n166 Underhill, Evelyn, 135n8 Uziel, Ben-Zion Meir Hai, 28, 243-44, 249n39, Vardi, Tirza, 30n73 Varga, Bálint András, 292n13 Vendrix, Phillipe, 186n3 Vickers, Brian, 175n173 Vital, Chaim, 139 Vivaldi, Antonio, 11, 299 Volkov, Solomon, 290n6 Wagner, Richard, 97, 99-100, 250, 261, 262n93, 290 Judaism in Music, 99 Walker, D. P., 74n105 Weinberg, Yehiel Yaakov, 50, 125-27 Weinfeld, Moshe, 153n72 Weller, Walter, 297 Werner, Eric, 3, 36n99, 43, 46n2, 52n22, 58n48, 60n56, 64n75, 114n107, Wertheim, Aaron, 159n94 Wilensky, Mordechai, 78n126 Wind, Edgar, 74n103, 187n11 Wisser, Meir Leibush, 16, 34, see also Malbim Wolff, Sabattia Joseph, 156n82 Wolfson, Aharon, 83 Wolfson, Harry A., 10n1, 56n37, 97n27

Yaakov Yosef of Pollonye, 159 Yahalom, Joseph, 64n74 Yaron, Zvi, 206n88, 249n43, 266n115, 280n174 Yashar, 66-68, see also Reggio, Yehuda Shmuel Yassif, Eli, 158n93 Yates, Frances A., 175n173 Yedayah ha-Penini ( Jedaiah ben Abraham Bedersi), 9 Yehuda Aryeh Leib of Gur, 113n105, 172 Yehuda b. Elazar, 190 Yisrael of Shklov, 119 Yitzhak Aizik of Komarna, 144n37, 160 Yom Tov ben Abraham Ishbili (Ritba), 54n32, 266n112 Yosef ben Yehuda, 9 Treatise as to Necessary Existence, 9 Yosef Shlomo Rofe (Yashar) of Candia, 82 Yudel of Przemysl, 30 Zadoff, Noam, 174n170 Zak, Bracha, 141n25 Zakai, Mira, 40n107, 95 Zalmanov, Shmuel, 154n77 Zimmerman, Assaf, 119n126 Zinberg, Yisrael, 161n103 Zalkin, Mordechai, 49n11 Zilber, Ariel, 297 Ziv, Simha Zissel, 217 Zucker, Moshe, 163n113 Zunser, Eliakum, 124n143 Zvieli, Binyamin, 249n43 Zweifel, Eliezer Zvi Hacohen, 79

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