diary livejournal fossils
So, Leonard Bernstein’s 3rd symphony, “Kaddish,” is probably the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard. Ever. So long as one hears it with Bernstein’s own narration, that is. I don’t think I’d like it as much with the Holocaust narration: it stands as a ‘prayer for the dead’ for the holocaust victims, but cheapens the music and changes its meaning.
The words from the second movement.
NARRATOR With Amen on my lips, I approach Your presence, Father. Not with fear, But with a certain respectful fury. Do You not recognize my voice? I am that part of Man You made To suggest his immortality. You surely remember, Father?—the part That refuses death, that insists on You, Divines Your voice, guesses Your grace. And always You have heard my voice, And always You have answered me With a rainbow, a raven, a plague, something. But now I see nothing. This time You show me Nothing at all. Are You listening, Father? You know who I am: Your image; that stubborn reflection of You That Man has shattered, extinguished, banished. And now he runs free—free to play With his new-found fire, avid for death, Voluptuous, complete and final death. Lord God of Hosts, I call You to account! You let this happen, Lord of Hosts! You with Your manna, Your pillar of fire! You ask for faith, where is Your own? Why have You taken away Your rainbow, That pretty bow You tied round Your finger To remind You never to forget Your promise? “For lo, I do set my bow in the cloud ... And I will look upon it, that I May remember my everlasting covenant ...” Your covenant! Your bargain with Man! Tin God! Your bargain is tin! It crumples in my hand! And where is faith now—Yours or mine? Forgive me, Father. I was mad with fever. Have I hurt You? Forgive me, I forgot You too are vulnerable. But Yours was the first mistake, creating Man in Your own image, tender, Fallible. Dear God, how You must suffer, So far away, ruefully eyeing Your two-footed handiwork—frail, foolish, Mortal. My sorrowful Father, If I could comfort You, hold You against me, Rock You and rock You into sleep. SOPRANO SOLO AND BOYS’ CHOIR Yit’gadal v’yit’kadash sh’me raba, amen … NARRATOR Rest, my Father. Sleep, dream. Let me invent Your dream, dream it With You, as gently as I can. And perhaps in dreaming, I can help You Recreate Your image, and love him again.