Laughter and Tears

by Raphael Burdman

For me, being a Jew means maintaining a link with its two main traditions: 1) the Talmudic, which teaches a deep-seated sense of justice; 2) the liturgical, filled with soulful musical ecstasy. Celebrating both laughter & tears.

My life's been spent trying to reconcile the latter two. My writing's tried to mix them. From Arthur Koestler I learned that they are quite similar. The basic 3-beat breath of laughter being: huh, huh, uh. Out out in. Exhale exhale inhale. The basic beat of crying, the opposite: uh, uh, huh. In in out. Inhale inhale exhale. Oom pah pah. An inner waltz. Though laughter is more external. And staccato.

Despite all the claptrap in the Old Testament & many of our prayers about the Big Guy in the sky who ordains how we live or die, our body's spontaneous decision to laugh or cry is our own. A private & personal reaction to the dilemmas & contradictions of Creation. The Chassidic ai yai yai can turn the outside world into Chagall's playful topsy-turvy inner one.

Our cantorial cry has much in common with the Arab call to prayer. Buddhism, &, for that matter, the Gregorian chant & Catholic mass, have similar musical roots. But don't contain the kind of wailing one hears at The Western Wall. The truth & power of Hebrew prayer lie not in literal translation of the liturgical words —which often sound so trite in English— but in their emotional utterance. The chant. From the depths. Something primal. As expressive as laughter. But more often close to tears. Turned to music.

This is what's missing from much of our shul's religious ceremony. Passive prayer is one thing. So is simple togetherness. A sense of community is critical. But really get-down dovening can unravel a whole new dimension of the Jewish communal experience. It's often better to pray in a language you don't understand. So that the sounds become a sort of mantra.

The difference between white Unitarian hymn-singing & black Baptist outpourings is like the one between our conservative prayer & a Moishe Oyser or Yosseleh Rosenblatt. Or the long wail & laughter of the klezmer clarinet. Even a simple reverberating “Amen!” can begin to exercise & exorcise one's most primitive & profound feelings. An “ai yai yai” song, dance & chant can surpass sixteen visits to the shrink. When we can cantorially lament the loss of loved ones, our minds stop the chattering which separates body from soul.

When we really get down & doven, it doesn't matter if we're in unison. Or even in tune. In fact, it may feel more real & less intimidating if we're not. We don't even need to know the words. As long as we cry & sing at the same time. It's not the meaning that counts, it's the emotion.

One way to begin recapturing religion from the secular sexuality of rock and roll may be to put the spirit back into our chanting & singing. And give more up-to-date & meaningful poetic & musical expression to communion with ‘God’. If we want to save our souls, along with those of our children, we must be a little more daring. Otherwise we just bore the younger generation. And abandon ourselves. לְחַיִּים L'chayim.

—from our December 1993 Newsletter

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