Music in the Desert

Bombarded as I am – as we all are – by news reports from all sides, I am often so angry, I burn to write and share my feelings with readers of this blog. For example, I promised to write about the criminal negligence of the Red Cross, who have made no effort to visit the kidnapped Israelis in Gaza and even refused to accept medications intended for some of them, going so far as to reprimand the families of the Israeli hostages for thinking about the wellbeing of their relatives, rather than that of the Palestinians!

And then there is the inexplicable silence for the first two months of the war, by international women’s groups, regarding the acts of mass rape and sexual violence against Israeli women and girls perpetrated by the Hamas and Islamic Jihad terrorists who attacked Israel on October 7th. Some even deny it happened. What happened to “Believe Women”? This refusal to address atrocities which were gleefully documented by the Hamas terrorist vermin themselves, while going so far as to attack the victims and accuse them of lying, can only stem from one thing – blatant antisemitism.

Sometimes the rage I feel threatens to overwhelm me. I have only one refuge – music. During the first few weeks of the war, I felt guilty about my choir continuing with “normal” activities – nor was I the only one. But gradually, we understood that one of the things we are fighting for is the right to live a normal life in this country, and that if we just put everything on hold, we are letting the terrorist vermin and their Iranian puppet-masters win. So we resumed rehearsals and I soon realised how necessary for my emotional and psychological wellbeing it was to be able to escape, for a few hours twice a week or so, the nightmare that threatens to engulf us.

Earlier this month, my choir took part in the annual Sounds of Music in the Desert Festival, at Kibbutz Sde Boker in the Negev. I mentioned this in one of my previous posts. At the time, I wondered who would come to a concert in the middle of the Negev Desert, with a war raging only about 70 kilometres away. But it seems that I am not the only person to understand the healing power of music. There was quite a sizeable audience, which included a considerable number of evacuees from towns and villages in the Gaza Envelope (the populated area within 7 kilometres of the Gaza border on the Israeli side), and the composer, Michael Wolpe, who is the founder and director of the Festival.

As I mentioned in my earlier post, we presented the first performance of a new work based on the poems of Rachel Bluwstein-Sela or, as she is known in Israel, simply Rachel the Poetess. Rachel wrote mainly short, intensely personal poems, but even when she is doing no more than sketch the landscape in a few brief lines, her love of the Land of Israel shines through and can bring the reader to tears. That was certainly the effect on many in the audience.

The concert was filmed and recorded, but I have no idea when the recording will be available. I made an audio recording of the finale at the first orchestra rehearsal (well, to be honest, the only orchestra rehearsal) the previous day, which I have, with much blood, sweat and tears, managed to turn into a video, whilst simultaneously attempting to learn the new Microsoft video editing software. For this reason, you can hear the soprano section much more strongly than the rest of the choir. I have also made my own, more literal translation of the words, as I was not completely satisfied by the translation I gave in my earlier post.

Enjoy!

To My Country

I did not sing for you, my country,
Nor did I praise your name
With heroic tales
Or with the spoils of battle.
One tree I planted with my own hands
By the Jordan’s quiet waters.
One narrow path to my feet yields,
Which runs across the fields.

Humble indeed –
I know it well, Mother –
Humble indeed
Is your daughter’s offering.
A cry of joy one glorious day,
When shines the sun in splendour;
And, shed for you, a secret tear
To see the poverty you bear.