Sephardic Jews observe every event from birth to death
in song and ceremony. All year long, families celebrate
the rites of passage --weddings, circumcisions, Bar Mitzvahs,
death itself-- as well as the Holy Days -- Shabbat, Yom
Kippur, Purim and Passover -- as occasions for joyous reaffirmation
of their religious faith. Unlike the ballads that mirror
life in Christian Spain, these songs are their very own.
Though tempered by millennia of contact with Christians
and Muslims in the Iberian Peninsula and Morocco, they retain
the spirit, the beliefs, as well as many customs of early
Biblical times. Like the ballads, hey are sung in Spanish,
generally by women; in the synagogue, for the same occasions,
men sing piyyutim, learned Hebrew poetry.
WEDDING SONGS
Of this vast repertory, the wedding songs are the most numerous.
For eight days prior to a wedding, the bride-te-be occupied
center stage, was fussed over like a precious jewel, sung
to, dined and wined. Every day, there were parties at the
groom's or the bride's house, when the engagement was announced,
the dowry delivered, at the signing of the marriage contract
(the Ketuba). More festivities were held when the bride
donned the berberisco, the traditional, lavishly-adorned
oriental wedding dress, and when she moved into her husband's
house, after sad farewells to her family. At the purification
rite held at the mikvah, the ritual bath, the bride accompanied
by relatives, was disrobed and bathed (incidentally giving
her future mother-in-law an opportunity to view the physical
charms (or lack of) of her future daughter-in-law, and report
back to her son)
The songs voice the highest aspirations of a Jewish woman
-- to find an honorable husband of good lineage, to live
in a finely appointed house, wear elegant clothes, and have
many children. Although there are no love songs as such
in this collection, many are eulogies to the pleasures of
sensuous love. Dice La Nuestra Novia (So Says the Bride
Newly-Wedded) praises the physical charms of the bride,
even her intimate parts. El baño de la novia (The Bride's
Bath) presents the bride-to-be as a willing and aggressive
partner. Some are merely practical, enumerating the new
bride's responsibilities in her husband's home. Only two
have sour notes: “Duelos y alegrias de la novia” (Joys and
Sorrows of the Bride) in which a bride reflects on the carefree
life of her youth, and the burdensome duties of childbearing
and rearing in her marriage. Most unusual is ”A la puerta
del rio” (At the River’s Source), a series of bitter commentaries
on life in general.
In the many talks I had in 1983 with the Jewish women of
Malaga and their Rabbi, resident in Spain since the 1950s-60s
exodus from Morocco, they spoke of the changes in marriage
and courtship customs. "In the old days," Rabbi Cohen said,
"parents tried to arrange things. Today we bring them together
at breakfast, dinner or lunch without telling them why--
and we hope. They tell me that in Israel marriage brokers
arrange meetings between a girl and a student, and if they
like each other, then the young man hires somebody to spy
on the girl." "Now why would anyone do such a thing?" I
asked. "To see how she looks in the morning without makeup,
of course, the Rabbi replied, and then continued, "Years
ago, a man often married an older woman because younger
women didn't have a dowry. But, not now, they marry whomever
they want, even outside our own religion and customs. We
just accept them. If a Catholic wants to convert, they must
go to Israel to get permission.
“Times have changed women; in the old days women stayed
at home; today they are engineers, doctors, pharmacists,
lawyers and economists. The bride-to-be used to make her
own trousseau. Twelve garments were considered the minimum,
but net today, everything is ready-made."
But feed and drink were as important as songs and rituals.
There was an endless variety for each holiday and family
celebration. The women prepared the special dishes, as well
as liquors and wines, partially because of the rules of
kasher. Nevertheless, I still recall that during my stay
in 1956, without the Rabbi's stamp of approval, Jews bought
tax-free French Champagne, Cointreau, cognac and the best
Spanish sherry in nearby Ceuta liquor shops.
But food, like songs and some rituals, are often a matter
of local custom. All Jews celebrate Passover with wine and
matzoh, and forbid leavened bread, but the rest of the menu
varies from place to place. At Purim only Eastern European
Jews, for instance, make Hamentashen, tn-cornered pastries
filled with prunes or poppy seed.
Among the delights served at the Tetuán mikvah were sweets
of almond paste served on top of lemons shells boiled in
syrup and filled with coconut meat. On that day, the main
meal at home included a special dish of cold, sliced, boneless
chicken stuffed with a paste of hard-boiled eggs, flour
and herbs. Besides chicken, women made deep-fried flaky
pastry filled with herb-flavored ground meat. At engagement
parties, the groom would bring a deep copper tray piled
high with gifts, and a plate of peladillas, candy-covered
almonds -- and the engagement ring.
Muslims played a crucial role in the life of Moroccan Jews.
One Malaga woman spoke of them with great affection. "We
lived among them", she said, "and they treated us very well,
like brothers. We were three sisters who lived alone. In
emergencies, we did not go to our families, we went to our
Muslim neighbors, and they always helped us. We only hope
that God will keep things the way they have always been
with no difference between Jews and Muslims."
Moroccan Muslims supplied Jews with the best fruits, vegetables,
fresh eggs, and plump fowl for all their feasts. They plucked
the chickens, and even killed them under rabbinical supervision...
a proof" said Rabbi Cohen, "of the harmony between Jew and
Arab. Even sugar squares were attractively wrapped in laurel
leaves to give our mint tea its special aroma. We still
follow an old custom of eating palm hearts with trol, a
prickly fruit, and grapefruit as an offering to God. An
Arab from central Morocco cultivates them, and carefully
wraps them in cloth so that the prickles won't damage the
fruit."
PASSOVER
Passover is a time of renewal and rebirth. Every home was
completely cleaned. Every room, every corner was washed
and scrubbed. Even the public ovens had to be cleaned to
remove crumbs and bits of bread made during the rest of
the year because leavened bread, like dairy products, were
forbidden during the eight days of the holiday. To make
them usable for Passover pastries, the ovens had to burn
for eight days. Even the dishes and tableware are replaced
with special Passover sets. "People gave little things away,"
said the rabbi, "but valuables like whiskey and sacks of
flour were sold to the Arabs, and they sold them back to
us after the holidays. It was understood that Jews would
supervise the ovens during the Passover week, and they never
objected to this arrangement even though they were the owners.
"I knew an Arab owner of an oven," continued the rabbi,
"who knew our holiday calendar so well -- which changes
every year -- that Jews consulted with him.
The last night of the holiday, Night of Nimona, was always
a special occasion. Tables were sc-t with delicious sweets
and a special wine from muscatol raisins, soaked in water
and squeezed dry to extract the juice. It was a light wine
and just right for the children. "That night", said the
Rabbi, " Arab vendors used to pile up grains of wheat. Since
we could not eat anything off the street, they would wait
until the next day and sell them at the synagogue door.
"We Sephardics have a Passover ceremony called Vivini. At
the seder after kadush, the women ulala (a trill sounded
by women of North Africa), and the host passes the tray
with the traditional symbolic food over the head of each
guest, and sings a short song containing the four promises
God made to Moses:
1. I will lead you out of Egypt,
2. I will save you from the Egyptians,
3. I will lead you to the promised land,
4. I will elevate you. To commemorate these promises, we
drink four glasses of wine to show our gratitude to God
for liberating us from Egypt."
The two Passover songs in this collection, unlike the Moses
ballads mentioned earlier, are part of the seder ritual.
During these banquets, the story of the flight from Egypt
is read, and songs are sung by all the guests. Included
here are Un Cabrito (One Kid), an accumulative song of medieval
vintage known throughout the Jewish world (but sung to various
melodies), and Trece Actos de Fe (The Thirteen Acts of Faith),
summarizing Jewish customs and beliefs.
PURIM
"Purim was always a wonderful time," said Rabbi Cohen. "The
children made masks of Haman, clowns, told jokes, and played
games. We gave money to poor Jews and Arabs. We do not make
many special food for Purim, but some people eat cuscus
with milk in the morning, and fish or meat later on. But
at night, we are expected to get drunk -- as it is said
-- so we can't distinguish between Haman and Mordecai. It
is the only night people are allowed to omit the evening
prayer because they are in no condition to know right from
wrong. It is the night of purification People sing Purim
songs and romances, eat and drink." One favorite song briefly
recounts the Biblical story of Esther, the Jewish queen
who saved her people from anniliation.
MOURNING SONGS - ENDICHAS
The Jewish calendar month of Ab is a mourning time for Jews
all over the world. It commemorates the destruction of the
Temple in Jerusalem in 79 A.D. A period of solemnity and
abnegation, all pleasures were suspended. People ate their
meals on the floor, consumed no meat1 and children were
forbidden to play noisy games. These with a recent death
in the family used the season to, once again, mourn for
long-departed relatives.
During this time it was customary to sing Endechas, the
long laments, some from popular sources but many from the
pen of the great medieval Sephardic poets. Rabbi Cohen:
"More than anything we cry for the destruction of the Temple
because ever since the Israelis have suffered persecution,
and are spread across the four corners of the earth. We
are an unhappy nation living within other nations. That
is why the endechas compare Israel with a lamb among wolves.
What can a lamb do? Nothing. When a lion roars who is not
afraid?"
Like the ballad about a king's death, included here, (De
Burgos a Salamanca - From Burgos to Salamanca), any song
about death can be used as a lamentation. Rabbi Cohen recalled
one about Hannah and her seven sons. Called before the emperor,
they were ordered to bow down to a statue, and promised
a good position if they obeyed his orders. "They refused",
said the Rabbi, "and he had their heads cut off. When the
last son came up, the emperor took pity, and threw his ring
in front of the statue. "Give me the ring," said the Emperor.
But the boy refused saying, "I will have to bow down to
get the ring, and my religion forbids me to do that." The
king had him killed. When Hannah saw her dead children,
she died instantly. Hannah was buried with all her children
around her."
The Rabbi continued: "One endecha begins with, "Tell me
the story of the river of blood that carried away large
rocks. Can you imagine the number of dead bodies needed
to do such a thing? We sing about these things, but sometimes
we do not finish because we are overrun with emotion.
But the most popular endichas were personal laments in which
each human being confronts his own death. In one of the
most famous, a personified figure of death, comes to claim
a victim. Like the medieval English play, Everyman, each
person must surrender to the Angel of Death regardless of
age, wealth, or moral character. No amount of grief shown
by the victim's family or attempt to bribe him stays the
hand of the Grim Reaper when it is time to go. Perhaps the
true purpose of the Endichas is to mourn for the dead, and
then celebrate life --Death and Resurrection.
NOTE: Even children sing special songs for sad occasions,
gentler, but no less poignant songs. A favorite is a well-known
song about Don Gato (Sir Cat) who dies because of his intransigence,
and refusal to obey orders. He revives, however, when he
smells the delicious odor of fish as his funeral procession
(the cats mourned for him, and the rats rejoiced) winds
through the fish stalls.
--Henrietta Yurchenco
