Musical Legacies

I am intrigued by disagreement among sources, including origins for a piece of music. So, I am sharing here some things I recently discovered trying to find the right citation for “Return Again,” often sung during the Days of Awe.

The song seems to have begun, as many compositions of Shlomo Carlebach (1925 – 1994), z”l, apparently did, as a wordless niggun. (See brief note on Carlebach‘s controversial legacy with links to more information.)

Shlomo Carlebach put Hebrew lyrics (from festival musaf) to the tune:

V'hashev kohanim leavodatam 
velevi'im leshiram ulezimram
ve'hashev yisrael linveihem
[Restore the priests to their service,
the Levites to their song and psalmody,​
and Israel to their habitatio​ns.]

[See Zemirot Database and, e.g., Spotify.]

English lyrics, lawsuit, citations

English lyrics came later. Rafael Simcha (Ronnie) Kahn says he wrote them, and this short video shows Carlebach citing “our friend Ronnie Kahn” for the English.

In 2019, Kahn filed suit against Shlomo’s daughters, Nechama and Nedara, over ownership of the song. Kahn vs. Carlebach, claims there was a joint copyright filed in the 1970s, improperly amended later. In June 2023, a US District Court Judge upheld Kahn’s right to sue, while also dismissing some claims. (See also CaseText and Archive.org.)

Zemirot Database for the English notes permission from Nechama Carlebach and cites Shlomo as (sole) author.

Shaina Noll’s (1992) version credits S. Carlebach and The Carlebach Family.

A number of sources in the last five years or so list S. Carlebach for the tune and R. Kahn for the lyrics.

More background

Cantor/composer Jeff Klepper shares some history here on a 2002 listserv, Hanashir. (Klepper’s slightly dated website; bio at Temple Sinai; see also Hava Nashira).

The Hanashir note includes different lyrics attributed to Rafael Simcha Kahn:

"Return again, Return again,
Return to the home of your soul;
You who have strayed, Be not afraid,
You're safe in the house of the Lord"

The note on the 2002 Hanashir list does not discuss the purported lyric shift, from “You who have strayed…in the house of the Lord” to “Return to who you are…born and reborn again.”

…The substantial differences might explain why the video (also linked above), identified as from 1976 and posted by Kahn, is cut off so early in the tune. (There could, of course, be many other reasons for the video’s length.)…

Hanashir does discuss one word change, however:

At a certain point, Shlomo, who started singing his niggun with Ronnie's words as well as the original Hebrew ones, changed the first verse to "...Return to the land of your soul"-- making it more of a (religious, obviously) Zionist verse and less of a general "spiritual" one. I [Robert Cohen] personally thought it was a change for the worse, as it particularized and narrowed whom it might speak to.  Ronnie's words, I thought, spoke to every Jew--as the verse in tefillah does.

Complex legacies

I [Virginia Spatz] personally find it fascinating that this (decades old) discussion focused on the shift from “home” to “land,” while assuming that liturgy about restoration of the Temple spoke to “every Jew.”

I find it fascinating that we have this archived discussion still — however informal it was at the time, and however fleeting it was assumed to be. I wonder, even as I participate in it, about the ethics of referencing a communication that was not written for long-term consumption.

I find it fascinating that the musical and Jewish worlds cannot easily answer the simple query: who wrote this song?

And I find it fascinating and important for us to consider how we honor and build on the work of those who came before us. What kinds of changes are appropriate, as we bring forward materials from the past, and what kinds of acknowledgements are needed?

Featured image is heading from legal filing: “United States District Court, Eastern District of New York. Ronnie Kahn, Plaintiff, -against- Neshama Carlebach and Nedara Carlebach, defendants.”

Broken-Heartedness and the Days of Awe

One common, powerful theme of the high holidays is the idea of the broken heart. This is encapsulated prominently in the blowing of the shofar, with its shevarim [shattered] call. (See, e.g., The Shofar as Prayer at My Jewish Learning.)

All who hear the ram’s horn — during the preparatory month of Elul and the Days of Awe — are meant to experience a broken heart. And, so according to this story, is the one who sounds the shofar:

Rabbi Wolf, shofar blower in the synagogue of the Baal Shem Tov, has been studying special intentions for his annual role, but loses his crib sheet on the bima; forgetting everything, he blows the shofar with a broken heart. The Baal Shem Tov tells him,

“In the Palace of the King there are many rooms and halls, and each door to a room or a hall has a different key. But there is a better way to enter than to use the key, and this is to use an ax, which can open the locks of all the doors. The same is true of proper intentions. They are the keys to each and every gate, and every opening has the proper intention for it. However, the broken heart is an ax. It allows every person to enter all the gates and the halls of the King of Kings, the Holy One, Blessed be He.”
— Moshe Chaim Kalman, Or Yesharim.
see also The Light and Fire of the Baal Shem Tov.
Yitzhak Buxbaum. NY: Continuum, 2006.

Broken-heartedness is often described as requisite for prayer, particularly at the Days of Awe, as in this teaching from Abraham of Slonim (19th Century CE):

You should act in prayer as if you were a farmer: first you plow, then you seed, afterward you water, and finally things begin to grow. In prayer, first you have to dig deeply to open your heart, then you place the words of prayer in your heart, then you allow your heart to cry.
— found in Machzor Lev Shalem

Outside McPherson Square Metro Station, 9/15/15
At McPherson Square Metro Station, 9/15/15

In a season dedicated to atonement and forgiveness, reminders to open one’s heart are important. But how are we meant to respond to this call when our hearts are already broken? when we’re just barely hanging on?

Around the corner from the temporary synagogue where Fabrangen Havurah holds high holiday services, this message was painted on the sidewalk.

…An alternative thought for Shabbat Shuvah [the sabbath of “return”].

Notes on Psalm 27

Two Sources for Basic Commentary
Rabbi Benjamin Segal offers an analysis of Psalm 27 in its biblical-literary context and discusses the unity of psalm, behind its apparently disparate set of emotions. The very readable series from Schechter Institute in Philadelphia also includes complete text of each psalm in English and Hebrew. This commentary includes a note on the use of Psalm 27 in Elul and the Days of Awe. [UPDATE 2017: Sadly, this on-line resource appears to be gone; Segal’s A New Psalm: The Psalms as Literature is now published by Geffen Books.]

Machzor Lev Shalem offers explanatory notes as well as a few thoughts on Psalm 27 in the penitential season. Unfortunately, the Rabbinical Assembly’s link to this material, previously offered here, is no longer public. Instead, a few notes are shared in More Exploring Psalm 27 (2 of 4). (Here is the machzor’s own website.) The Kol Nidrei sample pages include Zelda’s poem on “that strange night,” inspiration for this essay during Elul 5772.

Continue reading Notes on Psalm 27

Hearts, Eyes and Ears: Ki Tavo Prayer Links

The Torah portion Ki Tavo closes with a wonderfully disorienting perspective, as the reading cycle prepares to leave the Israelites on the banks of the Jordan, while we, as readers, prepare for the new year. Who experienced what in the desert years? Who is about to enter the Promised Land, with instructions for bringing the first fruits? And who is in the exact same spot reached each year at this point, wondering about the meaning of the journey and what chance there is for moving forward?
Continue reading Hearts, Eyes and Ears: Ki Tavo Prayer Links