Shalom everyone,
It has been a little over a week since I sent you the first part of “Jerusalem of Gold,” and today, on the eve of the Shavuot holiday, I felt it was fitting to send you the second part.
Before I begin, I would like to dedicate this newsletter to the memory of four soldiers who fell last night in the Gaza Strip: Major Tal Pashvilsky (24), Staff Sergeant Eitan Karlsbron (20), Sergeant Almog Shalom (19), and Sergeant Yair Levin (19). May their souls rest in eternal peace in paradise.
In the first part, I told you about the Hebrew Song Festival held in Jerusalem, which was broadcast on radio receivers; it was the time before the television era. A few weeks before the Six-Day War of 1967, when not even one song in the competition spoke about Jerusalem, Mayor Teddy Kollek explicitly requested that at least one song be (even if not as part of the competition) about Jerusalem.
If you missed the first part, or don’t quite remember and want to read it again, you can do so in this link.
The producer. Gil Aldema, already desperate because the festival is just around the corner, only a few days away, suddenly gets a call from Naomi, who tells him, “Listen, Gil, I’m sorry, but I have no inspiration. I can’t write anything about Jerusalem.”
Gil, who is about to give up, replies to Naomi: “My dear Naomi, forget about Jerusalem. Write whatever you want…”
This time, when Naomi sits down, she writes “Jerusalem of Gold” and chooses a relatively unknown soldier named Shuli Natan to perform the song. you can watch the original recording:
Minutes after Shuli Natan finished singing, the audience remained standing and did not stop clapping! The song, which wasn’t even part of the competition, instantly overshadowed all the other festival songs in such a way that no one even remembers which song actually won because the true victory was “Jerusalem of Gold.
Here are the lyrics:
The mountain air is clear as wine,
And the scent of pines,
is carried on the breeze of twilight
with the sound of bells.
And in the slumber of tree and stone
captured in her dream
the city sits in solitary
and in its heart is a wall.
Chorus:
Jerusalem of gold
And of copper, and of light
Behold I am a violin for all your songs.
Alas, the cisterns have dried up
the market square is empty
and there is no one visiting the Temple Mount
in the old City.
And in the caves inside the rock
howling spirits
and one does not go down to the Dead Sea
on the way to Jericho
Chorus:
Jerusalem of gold
And of copper, and of light
Behold I am a violin for all your songs.
But when I come today to sing to you
And to tie your crowns
I’m smaller and younger than the youngest of your sons,
and from the last of the poets.
Because your name burns the lips
as a resin kiss
If I forget you, Jerusalem
which is all gold
Chorus:
Jerusalem of gold
And of copper, and of light
Behold I am a violin for all your songs.
Let’s understand these lyrics together,
Jerusalem of Gold – During the Talmud and Mishnah periods, “Jerusalem of Gold” was a precious jewel.
“The mountain air is clear as wine…”
Jerusalem is surrounded by mountains, and therefore the air there is much clearer than in other places. The sound of the many church bells accompanies us as we visit the city.
“The city that sits solitary and in its heart a wall” – “How the cisterns have dried up…”
The source of this phrase is taken from the Book of Lamentations, “How the city that was full of people sits solitary, she has become like a widow.” This book, attributed to the prophet Jeremiah, is a collection of laments over the destruction of the Temple, recited on the Ninth of Av. “How the city that was full of people sits solitary, she has become like a widow, the great among nations…”
In the first verse, we enjoy the clear air, but the second verse brings us back to the reality of 1967, when the city was divided between the Kingdom of Jordan and the State of Israel, with the border running right below us. “The city that sits solitary and in its heart a wall.”
“…Am I not a violin for all your songs”
This expression is inspired by the poem “Zion, will you not ask” by Rabbi Yehuda Halevi, the greatest poet of Spain, who was also a doctor and philosopher. The poem itself is a lament filled with emotion and hope for the redemption of Israel and the rebuilding of Jerusalem.
“And in the caves in the rock, the winds are howling…”
Has anyone ever been to Mount of Olives? To the Tomb of Absalom? To the burial caves there? The Mount of Olives is the largest and oldest Jewish cemetery in the world, with graves dating back to the 10th century BCE.
In the days when the song was written, the Mount of Olives was in Jordanian territory, so Jews could not visit their loved ones’ graves, pray, or honor the fallen. Therefore, instead of Jews coming to pray, howling winds resided there.
And, of course, no one would descend to the Dead Sea via the Jericho route, as it was Jordanian territory.
“But when I come today to sing to you, and to crown you with laurels, I am the smallest of the youngest of your children, and the least of the poets.”
To crown with laurels, in a free interpretation, is to praise and elevate the status of the city.
In the Babylonian Talmud, it is told that the ministering angels placed two crowns on the head of each Israelite, and later it is told that when Moses ascended to heaven to receive the Torah, he found God tying crowns to the letters.
“I am the smallest of the youngest of your children and the least of the poets” – Who am I, anyway? A young and small poet, who am I compared to King Saul, David, Solomon, Hezekiah, Jeremiah, the Hasmoneans, and Herod? The poet asks, who am I compared to all these? I am also the smallest of your children, Jerusalem.
“For your name burns the lips like a seraph’s kiss”
This expression is taken from the Book of Isaiah, which tells of a vision revealed to him in which he is sanctified as a prophet.
The prophet sees the Lord sitting with His council of seraphim—angels who sing His praises. To prepare Isaiah for the sanctification, he undergoes a purification ritual performed by a seraph who takes burning coals from the altar and touches them to his impure lips. The coals do not burn but lightly sear the lips to purify him.
In her song, Naomi Shemer metaphorically purifies the State of Israel to make it worthy of being sanctified together with Jerusalem.
“If I forget thee, O Jerusalem…”
This is taken from Psalms, describing the exiles in Babylon: “By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down and wept when we remembered Zion. Upon the willows in its midst, we hung our harps.” “…If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning. Let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth…”
The exiles at that time refused the Babylonians’ request to sing the songs of Zion and even swore not to forget Jerusalem.
Three weeks after the song was released and captivated the masses, IDF forces captured the Old City, and as they entered, they had a “ready anthem.” However, it was not complete, as reality had changed, and suddenly we were back in the Old City.
Naomi was in the Sinai desert, singing to the soldiers at the front, when she received a telegram from Teddy Kollek with a special request… I will reveal it to you in the third part 🙂
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Much love & respect,
Shay
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