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Category: Rabbi Nachman

The role of music in the healing of Gabrielle Giffords

Yesterday morning, in a weekly class on Jewish mysticism that I teach in the local community, we were concluding our study of the ten psalms that Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav selected for the practice of the Tikkun haKlali – the Complete Repair.  Rabbi Nachman (1772-1810) was referring to a spiritual repair – healing at a cosmic level – in which all that was broken would be healed and the flow of Divine energy through the sephirotic system found in the teachings of Kabbalah would come down to us unhindered.  This system consisted of 10 Divine attributes which, together, form the kabbalistic Tree of Life.  There are a multitude of explanations and allegorical images used in kabbalistic tradition to try and convey something of the nature of these 10 attributes.  Among them, Rabbi Nachman spoke of 10 melodies – 10 kinds of sound resonance that, when unblocked, would vibrate in perfect harmony with each other, bringing perfection and wholeness to the world.

I sometimes liken the teachings of Kabbalah to that of theoretical or particle physics, not only because there are some truly amazing resonances between some of the teachings in each discipline, but because Kabbalah is very abstract and requires translation into something that we can respond to in the here and now.  Rabbi Nachman, by proposing a ritual practice of the recitation of 10 psalms, sought to provide a spiritual methodology by which even an individual could make a small contribution to the greater Tikkun by speaking words that he believed carried the resonances of the ten kinds of melody.  At the very least, these might help to release some of our own blockages as we seek to be more ‘in tune’ with ourselves and with others.

The last of the ten psalms is Psalm 150:

Hallelujah. Praise God in His sanctuary; praise Him in the firmament of His power.
Praise Him for His mighty acts; praise Him according to His abundant greatness.
Praise Him with the blast of the horn; praise Him with the psaltery and harp.
Praise Him with the timbrel and dance; praise Him with stringed instruments and the pipe.
Praise Him with the loud-sounding cymbals; praise Him with the clanging cymbals.
Let every thing that has breath praise Yah. Hallelujah. (JPS, 1917)
In the context of Rabbi Nachman’s Tikkun HaKlali, this psalm literally vibrates with the sounds of the instruments played in the ancient Temple of Jerusalem.  Rabbi Nachman taught about the spiritual importance of fostering joy, and the power of music and of singing to lift oneself up, even from the most difficult of circumstances.  Our study group considered the power of song and of music at multiple levels.
It was in this context that a member of our study group thought of the example of Rep. Gabrielle Giffords, and the role that music and song has played quite literally in her physical healing.  If sound has the power to shatter glass, might it not also have a literal potential to heal, in addition to the emotional and spiritual sustenance that it can provide?
Rep. Giffords has been working with a music therapist, among others also tending to her treatment and recovery.  Music has had the power to tap into her memory, and assisted with regaining language mastery, as the music appears to help the brain to access new ways to communicate.  Her therapist, Morrow, explains: “It’s creating new pathways in the brain … Language isn’t going to work anymore, so we have to go to another area and start singing and create a new pathway for speech… 
Music is also linked to brains areas that control memory, emotions, and even movement. “The thing about music is that it’s something that’s very automatic — part of our old brain system,” Morrow said. “If I play a rhythm, I can affect the rest of the body. The body naturally aligns with a rhythm in the environment.”

Throughout my childhood I often accompanied my mother who would go and sing at Assisted Living and Nursing Homes.  And time and time again, I would witness residents who would not or could not easily speak or communicate any more literally return to full life when the music began.  Intentionally singing a repertoire of music that would be familiar from their youth, my mother would have residents singing along, moving their bodies – even getting up to dance.
The enormous power of music and sound, working at the physical, emotional and spiritual level, has always been evident to me.  It has been an integral part of my Jewish spirituality as I have found ways to access the meaning of our rituals and our prayers through the vehicle of the melodies we bring to them.  Rabbi Nachman understood this two hundred years ago.  We’re just beginning to tap into the potential that vibration, sound, and song have to bring healing to our lives.



14 Tishrei. Harvesting life and nourishing our prayers

May all the foliage of the field, 
All grasses, trees and plants, 
Awaken at my coming, this I pray, 
And send their life into my words of prayer 
So that my speech, my thoughts and my prayers will be made whole, 
And through the spirit of all growing things. 
And we know that everything is one, 
Because we know that everything is You. 

(excerpt from a prayer by Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav; lyric interpretation by Debbie Friedman). 


Sukkot, like so many of our Jewish Festivals, is multilayered with significance and meaning. I sometimes love the ‘archeological’ exploration of our Holy days. Like uncovering the strata of time, seeing multiple generations of civilization down through the centuries as we dig at a historical site, so we find historical layers to the Festivals. Often, as with Sukkot, agricultural roots, then the historical narrative of association with the Exodus from Egypt, then the stories of the Temple rituals associated with the holiday in Jerusalem, then the metaphorical layers added to the symbolism of shaking the lulav and the etrog, and then some of the contemporary connections spurring us to social action, such as the focus on homelessness.

All of these layers are drenched with potential for us to draw close to the ritual forms and practices of the holiday, and find something that resonates deeply within us. This year, I am focusing on the historical origins of the holiday, the earliest layers – the celebration of the end of the Fall harvest, and the focus on rain for the land. For Jewish farmers, this layer of meaning is directly experienced and deeply lived. But most of us are not Jewish farmers. How do we tap into a deeply felt experience of land, produce, and water?

I would like to suggest a practice that could just as easily be a personal, silent contemplative meditation, or a group sharing and discussion. Some of us buy our vegetables from a CSA; some from local farm stands; some have grown our own fruits and vegetables this year in our gardens; some have or will take our families to go apple or pumpkin picking. Thinking about those experiences more deeply, we can bring to mind or verbalize our response to the miracle of growing things, the colors, the textures, the tastes, the feeling of harvesting the fruits of our labors, or having met the people who grew and harvested our food. We can share stories about having been traveling somewhere and seeing a field full of something growing – perhaps something we hadn’t seen before (my first experience of seeing date palms in Israel, and orange groves in Florida, with the incredible smell that fills the air, will remain with me forever). Or perhaps our attention is turned to the miracle of water – seeing a particularly gorgeous or spectacular body of water, seeing the miracle of drip irrigation systems literally turning parts of the desert green in Israel, the incredible innovation of the aqueduct and the transportation of water, the time when we were caught in the fiercest of torrential downpours, being made aware of the incredible power of water…

Taking time to think about these experiences – the ones that we have lived, the things that are part of the flow of our everyday lives, and then picking up the lulav and etrog to say the blessings, or then reciting the blessing for sitting in the sukkah – we, like the words of Rabbi Nachman’s prayer, send the life of the earth into our words of prayer. No longer the perfunctory performance of ancient rituals and words, they now become ripe with the experiences of our own lives. We energize our daily experiences with spiritual consciousness, and we energize the rituals of Jewish living by attaching them to meaningful life experience.

Chag Sameach
Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz