Category: Dance Midrash

Can you go home again?

JoAnne Tucker / / dance liturgy, Dance Midrash, Personal Life

That is the question coming to mind for me right now.  By “home,” I mean my spiritual home.  There have been times in my life when I have experienced transcendence, by which I mean losing my sense of self, and becoming one with the moment and people I am interacting with, so that the moment exceeds the ordinary.

This has happened to me when I have been dancing or improvising, mainly dancing as part of liturgy or in an improvisation based on a Torah portion.  And it hasn’t happened very often.  It has also occasionally happened with a simple improvisational exercise like mirroring when the person whom I am partnering and I become one.

When I was performing, it happened only after I really knew the choreography so well that I didn’t need to think about the movement or the space I was in.  I remember a performance one Sunday morning at Rodef Shalom in Pittsburgh where I had been coached by a good friend and fellow dancer, Lynne Wimmer.  We were to be part of the morning service, integrating our piece of In Praise into the liturgy.  I had a short solo, following the silent prayer, to the liturgy “May the Words of my Mouth.”  Lynne had coached me to fully use my hands in each movement phrase and as I reached out in a circle to the congregation.  This was an opportunity to take everyone in and reach to the back row. That morning my performance transcended how I usually did the piece, and at the same moment, the sun poured in through the stained glass windows.

As director of the company, I often saw when a dancer knew a particular solo or piece of choreography so well that they became one with the moment.  That was a joy to watch, and I felt my energy totally with them.

On one occasion, the transcendence happened when I was leading a Doctor of Ministry Class at Hebrew Union College and we were dancing a line of text from the Torah.  I don’t remember the line of text, and in a way it wasn’t important. It was the second class of a 12-week course, and I had decided to introduce the group to improvisational movement. None of the participants were dancers.  They were rabbis and ministers, open to experiencing something new but not totally sure about dance.  We began and continued for about 20 minutes without saying anything, sometimes moving alone, sometimes with one other person or with three or four people.  There was no music.  We were focused and intent on interpreting the line of text and interacting with each other.  At some point which seemed right, I said, “Let’s bring it to a close.” We did, and then quietly sat down.  No one spoke for a long time.  I didn’t want to break the silence.  We all knew we had become a total group together and that a spiritual experience had been had by all.  Slowly people began to express their feelings. I finally ended by saying that in the second class they had gone beyond my purpose in teaching the entire course.

As time progressed, as director of the dance company which was very much rooted in the Jewish tradition, I found that my original reasons for starting the company were fading.  My first reason had been that the prayers (particularly in the English translation) were difficult for me. I knew that they had been around for a long time and felt that maybe if I studied them and used dance to interpret them, I would find their meaning. In a way that did happen in the creative process when I and whomever I was collaborating with brought ourselves to the prayer. And some of the songs that had been written for the prayers stimulated and inspired movement.  Not understanding Hebrew was a plus. The original language seemed to fit the prayer, but for me, when the prayer was translated into English, that was where I had a problem and definitely still do.

The other main reason for starting the company had been to see if I could find the woman’s voice, particularly in the Torah. So for years I did what in the Jewish tradition is called creating “midrash.”

Midrash is an interpretive act, seeking the answers to religious questions (both practical and theological by plumbing the meaning of Torah……Midrash responds to contemporary problems and crafts new stories, making connections between new Jewish realities and the unchanging biblical text.  https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/midrash-101/

I explored text, using dance to create midrash, seeking the woman’s voice in that text.  While it was great fun exploring in this way, and eventually co-authoring a book called Torah in Motion: Creating Dance Midrash, I began to feel more and more disappointed and discouraged to realize how patriarchal the Torah and prayers were, and I wasn’t satisfied with just adding a female biblical name to a prayer or creating a midrash on Sarah.  I learned from a rabbi friend of mine that in the 1970’s when the women’s movement in religion began in earnest, some women explored midrash and others found they needed a whole new study.  I realized I was now at the point of needing a new story.

When 9/11 happened in NYC, I lived just across the river, and the towers were part of my neighborhood. I was deeply affected by the event.  A few weeks later a friend took me to hear Thich Nhat Hanh at Riverside Church.  I was fascinated.  Here was a different way to look at your enemies.  During the fall, Sharon Saltzman, Joseph Goldstein and Sylvia Boorstein all offered workshops in NYC.  I liked what I was hearing and began a meditation practice.  I also liked the emphasis of sending wishes of kindness to all people – whether your family, or the person you have the most difficulty with– or as Thich Nhat Hahn would say, “giving your enemy a gift.”  It became increasingly hard for me to say the prayer for peace in Israel as there was no extension to wish for peace for all (non-terrorist) people.  I continue to be troubled by this.  Yes, I very much want peace in Israel and will pray for it; however I also will pray for peace for the Palestinians.  Real peace will only happen when both have peace and neither one has been conquered.

For nearly twenty years I have thought of myself as a BuJew (Buddhist/Jew).  I went regularly to dharma talks and often weekend retreats at Upaya Zen Center in Santa Fe.  I continued my meditation practice. During COVID I even increased my meditative practice, thrilled with all that was available online, especially at Upaya.  I was fascinated with The Hidden Lamp, “a collection of one hundred koans and stories of Buddhist women from the time of Buddha to the present day.”

This revolutionary book brings together many teaching stories that were hidden for centuries, unknown until this volume. These stories are extraordinary expressions of freedom and fearlessness, relevant for men and women of any time or place. In these pages we meet nuns, laywomen practicing with their families, famous teachers honored by emperors, and old women selling tea on the side of the road.

Each story is accompanied by a reflection by a contemporary woman teacher—personal responses that help bring the old stories alive for readers today—and concluded by a final meditation for the reader, a question from the editors meant to spark further rumination and inquiry.  https://wisdomexperience.org/product/hidden-lamp/

I even began attending special workshops led by Sensei Zenshin Florence Caplow, happening nine or ten times a year, that looked at a different story each time and then encouraged us to write, based on key words that stood out to us.  I did that for two years, and then one time while doing it I had an aha moment:  in a way, I was doing midrash on another patriarchal religion.

I felt sad and a bit lost again.  This was not my story either.  I continued my meditation practice but I found myself less motivated to attend dharma talks.  I still held onto much of the philosophy of loving kindness, mindfulness, and offering prayer to all people.

Then this High Holiday season, I streamed services from Central Synagogue in NYC.  I had streamed them before and liked them.  This year was different.  I had lost over 30 lbs.  and could move/dance again and so I found myself inspired by quite a few of the traditional melodies like Hashivenu and V’al Kulam.  These were prayers I had previously choreographed, and since I was at home alone, I got up and danced.  A feeling I hadn’t experienced for years returned.  A spiritual high.  Central’s service is filled with the most amazing music.  Led by Angela Buchdahl, who is ordained as both a rabbi and a cantor, the services incorporate an outstanding selection of music, and even if I still have problems with the prayers in English, the music takes me to a spiritual place I haven’t been for a long time.  The sermons by all Central’s rabbis are thoughtful, and the congregation is involved in social action – even a prison project.

During COVID, Central Synagogue streamed and was excellent at building a large online following.  They then formalized the online streaming with a program they call The Neighborhood (I thought of Mr. Rogers and his neighborhood when I first heard its name), where people can join and participate in additional programs via Zoom.  I surprised myself and joined right after the Yom Kippur service.  So, the question I opened with… can one go home again?  I think so, with a new awareness.  My thoughts are I am the person who brings mindfulness and meditation from a twenty-plus-year regular practice, to find transcendence in dance by becoming the prayer or text rooted in my Jewish tradition.

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A Trip to Bali

JoAnne Tucker / / Dance Midrash, Multicultural Programs, Personal Life

Memories of a trip to Bali resonate strongly, even though it was nearly 30 years ago that I spent 6 amazing days exploring the island, totally fascinated with the different sites we visited.  Murray and his colleague had wandered into a tourist agency on a lunch break during their work trip to Singapore.  They saw a great package for 6 days in Bali with airfare and hotel.  Liked it and bought it.  A few days later we were on the plane for the 3-hour flight to Denpasar Airport.  We were met, part of the package, and driven to the resort hotel in Nusa Dua, by far one of the most beautiful hotels we had ever been to.  While the resort was very modern, it displayed the traditional beautiful sculpture and art work that the Island is famous for – a nice blending of traditional and modern styles. The rest of the first day we totally enjoyed hanging around and swimming in the very large pool!

The next morning we piled into our small van and the four of us were joined by one other couple.  Following a morning concert of traditional music and dance, our guide took us to Ubad (the cultural center) and we wandered in and out of lots of tourist type shops that were at least tasteful and did have some interesting things.  In one of them I found a percussive instrument, made of wood – a face with a wooden knocker as the tongue. It was similar to one of my favorite instruments on Newman’s accompaniment blanket, and I was very excited to find it.  (Newman, mentioned in other blogs, is the musician who accompanied many workshops and the piece “Let My People Go.”  He would set out his wide variety of instruments around him on the stage floor, on a piece of fabric which I came to call “Newman’s Blanket.”) I was thrilled to make the instrument my first purchase and enjoyed using it for many years!  There were quite a few Batik stores and I also purchased in one of them a round placemat that I still enjoy using.

As we walked from store to store we were greeted by a number of vendors selling various handcrafted things.  Often they started by quoting a very high price, expecting us to bargain. When we walked away they would offer the item for a realistic price where the bargaining could begin. Murray and I saw some interesting small carvings and learned they were carved cow bones.  We were first quoted a price of $100 but didn’t counter it and just walked away.  Before we knew it, the vendor had said we could have each one for $10.  We ended up buying 3 of them, each for $1. The vendor was happy to have sold them, and we were happy to have bought them.

While the shopping was fun, what really fascinated me happened the next day as we were driving up in the mountains.  It was a festival day and many Balinese were dressed in traditional clothes.  A number of the women were carrying – balanced on their heads – baskets of fruits and flowers arranged in beautiful and intricate patterns.  Our tour guides explained that the women were on their way to a sacred site and the baskets were offerings.  

I vividly remember a visceral response in my body, and thinking this is exactly the kind of thing that is described in the Torah, and further explained in the Talmud, about how during the time of the Temple’s existence, the Jewish people made offerings. For example, Deuteronomy 26:2 says:  

you shall take of the first of every fruit of the ground that you bring in from your Land that your God gives you, and you shall put it in a basket and go to the place that your God will choose.

If you would like to learn more about this ritual, here is a good link to check out: https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/first-fruits/

I was seeing something similar in a totally different culture, and I was totally fascinated.   

Once back home, I would learn that 90% of the Balinese practice Balinese Hinduism which:

 is a mixture of years of contact with different cultures, most notably the Indian one. Traders introduced their faith to Bali between 1,000 and 1,500 years ago.

Apart from Hinduism, the Balinese have aspects of other beliefs in their religion: Buddhism; Malay ancestor cult or the reverence of dead ancestors; and animistic beliefs.  (“Lisa’s vivid writing” in Medium.com – see link below)

If you want to learn more about Balinese religious practices, rituals and festivals check out these websites:

https://medium.com/bali-in-a-few-words/balinese-hinduism-explained-e3316a16a535

https://www.villa-bali.com/guide/offerings-canangs

/https://theculturetrip.com/asia/indonesia/articles/traditional-rituals-in-bali-you-should-know-about/https://theculturetrip.com/asia/indonesia/articles/traditional-rituals-in-bali-you-should-know-about/

And then we visited a temple and saw a sign outside that said something like “Women:  If you are menstruating or pregnant please do not enter.”  When I asked our guide about it, he shared that women who are menstruating, pregnant or have just given birth are considered “ritually unclean.”  Here was another example of something that had been part of the Jewish tradition, well documented in Leviticus Chapter 15 beginning with verse 19:

If a woman has a discharge, her flesh discharging blood, she shall remain in her state of menstrual separation for seven days, and whoever touches her shall be come unclean until evening.

There are many others examples of times when someone or something is considered unclean in Leviticus and in other parts of the Torah.  Now, here I was, in another culture and religion seeing a similar practice in action. I was surprised to find this in Bali.  

The trip to Bali took on a whole new significance for me.  It was not just the beautiful scenery or tourist shops or sightseeing.  It was about seeing the rituals and culture in practice.  The similarity between the rituals I was seeing and the passages I was reading in the Torah (and using as a basis for leading “dance midrash” workshops in Jewish religious schools) was clear. It gave me new ideas for my teaching.  It was also an awareness of how similar cultures can be and a reminder that we may all be more alike than different.  

Here I am sightseeing in Bali and loving the rich greens of the rice fields.
Murray and me visiting Goa Gajah, the Elephant Cave.  To learn more about
this site check out this link:
https://www.tripsavvy.com/goa-gajah-eerie-elephant-cave-in-bali-1629094

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Leading Dance Midrash Workshops in Israel

JoAnne Tucker / / Dance Midrash, Dances on Biblical Women, Movement Workshops, Touring

This was not my first trip to Israel.  For my 50th birthday Murray and I traveled to Israel, staying first with friends at Kibbutz Lotan located in the South and then taking a small minivan tour of the country for about a week. While it was a very positive experience and I especially liked Tel Aviv and have vivid memories of watching large groups of people gathering by the beach to folk dance on Shabbat, I did find not myself in a hurry to return.  As I flew into Israel on Friday morning to begin this nine-day trip with five workshops scheduled I wondered how my work would be received particularly among traditional orthodox Jewish participants. The five workshops were scheduled throughout the country and I had no idea who the attendees would be.

I am very glad to have written about the trip, shortly after it happened, in an Avodah Newsletter, and the majority of this blog comes from the newsletter.  As was my regular practice when leading dance midrash workshops, they were always based on that week’s Torah portion and I had a particularly rich and easy one to work with.  I decided to focus on two specific lines in the portion “Lech Lecha”:  Genesis 12:1, “The Lord said to Abram, ”Go forth from your native land and from your father’s house to the land that I will show you,” and Genesis 16: 1-16 where Hagar bears a child for Sarah.  

Arriving in Israel on Friday I would have Saturday to spend with friends who offered a place to stay where they lived on Kibbutz Tzora.  They had originally lived at Kibbutz Lotan, where Murray and I had visited them six years ago.  Now, along with two adorable twins, they lived on Kibbutz Tzora which had a much more urban feeling than Lotan.  I was also able to use time to review the Torah portion I would be working with.  Even though I had worked with many Torah portions many times I often found new insight depending on my life events and world happenings.  This particular week I decided to address the question of what quality in Abram triggered God to select him to “go forth.”

For the section on Sarah and Hagar, I decided to find moments of interaction between them that are not described in text, such as what Sarah might have said to Hagar to convince her to bear a child for her, or what Hagar might have said to Sarah when Hagar knew she was pregnant. In other words, I wanted to make the relationship very real between these two women. 

All five workshops were built from these two scenarios, and each workshop had the same outline: movement warm-up, introduction of ritual movement (i.e. movement already existing in our tradition, such as putting on a tallit or bending and bowing), exploration of text in movement, questions, and feedback.  Each workshop took on its own character and emphasis based on the participants, and there was a huge range!

As I reviewed my write-up in the Avodah Newsletter I noted that I only mentioned four workshops. Actually a fifth one stands out in my mind and I hunch that I decided not to write about it for the newsletter.  For this blog I will just share one very strong memory of that workshop (the first), which I led in Jerusalem. I remember my friends driving to and from the location, and that I felt a huge relief to be leaving Jerusalem, as I felt the energy from both the workshop and in the streets to have been somewhat frantic!! 

While each workshop had the same outline, each one definitely had its own character and emphasis based on the participants.  The second workshop, in Tel Aviv, like the one in Jerusalem, was attended by all non-dancers and thus my main job was in motivating movement and leading the group to be comfortable with movement as a way to explore text.  

The third workshop was in the city of Beit She’an which is located in the northern part of Israel in the Jordan Valley. It was held in a beautiful dance studio, part of the region’s cultural center, and had the highest level of dance participants, with several professional dancers and advanced dance students.  I also seem to remember this was the home community of Elisabeth, the person who had visited my dance midrash class in New York City and arranged for me to come. A single sentence was enough to motivate rich movement, and sophisticated improvisational dance challenges quickly became an important part of this workshop.  A particularly memorable improvisation occurred on the letters in God’s name (yud, hay, vav, hay).  I taught a simple movement phrase based on a meditation related to these letters and then asked the participants each to think about her own God image and to incorporate that in her improvisation.  The intensity in the room was incredible and while I was dancing with the group I sensed an extraordinary energy happening, with amazing movement interactions taking place in my own improvising.  One person had chosen to observe and was mesmerized by what she saw.  Not surprisingly, in the feedback section, this exercise was commented on the most.  From an orthodox woman came the statement that she was apprehensive when asked to do this activity but found it profound.  A secular woman also shared the same reaction – an initial reluctance to dance the letters in God’s name, but then a discovery of great meaning to the exercise.  I felt a certain affirmation in having been able to provide such an experience for women coming from such different backgrounds.

From there I traveled to Yeroham which is in the Southern District – Negev Desert.  The workshop was held in the Bamidbar Creative Beit Midrash which had been built in 1990 following the assassination of Prime Minister Rabin, and which serves the local community as well as visitors.  It is also an unusual space in that it has served as a bomb shelter.  Put to happier use, all the furniture had been removed for our dance workshop, and there was also an art exhibit by oil painter Anna Andersch-Marcus, a world-renowned artist living in Yeroham.  This was the only time my teaching in English created a few moments of tension, when some debate arose about how to translate what I said.  Luckily several bilingual participants were able to assure the group that the differences were insignificant to the assignment, and the 15 women ranging in background from secular to traditional worked together sharing nonverbally our interpretations of biblical text.

My own improvisations that day were influenced by the fact that we were near a site called Hagar’s Well and I was reminded of the challenges that the environment presents.  It made a big difference in my own movement to keep the harshness of the desert landscape in mind as I danced interactions between Sarah and Hagar.

The final workshop was at Kibbutz Lotan.  The Kibbutz was further south located in the heart of the desert about 40 minutes north of Elat which is on the Red Sea.  I had very pleasant memories of the Kibbutz from my earlier trip to Israel.  The reform Kibbutz had developed further with bird-watching trails, sand dunes and the intimacy of a small lush Kibbutz surrounded by the barren desert mountains.  I thoroughly enjoyed being there and even discussed with the leadership of the Kibbutz the possibility of doing an intensive five-day workshop to train dance midrash specialists as well as individuals who just wanted to explore text through dance stimulated by the beautiful desert environment and guest facilities of the Kibbutz.  I never put much energy into organizing it and so it never happened.  Being at Kibbutz Lotan was a wonderful way to end a very full nine days and return to Italy to continue getting ready for our October 31 concert.

The only picture I could find that I took on this trip to Israel. Clearly I was fascinated by the harsh environment of the desert!

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Holding Compassion in our Hearts

JoAnne Tucker / / dance liturgy, Dance Midrash, Dances on Biblical Women

It is with mixed feelings that I begin to write this blog because it is about a piece that I was so proud to have in Avodah’s repertory, and yet today I realize, as with many other pieces I choreographed between 1972 and 2000, a lot of my thinking has changed.  It is also a strange day outside with no sun and very heavy fog.  I am feeling weighed down. A bit of inspiration, much needed at the moment, came earlier today when I listened to a presentation by Christiana Figueres that is part of Awakened Action 2020 Resource Page at Upaya Zen Center. It’s entitled “Transforming Climate and Global Realities” and she shared the program with Jane Fonda. Among the things she spoke of were 6ththings we can learn from COVID 19 that are very relevant to all the problems we are facing today.  One of those is the success of feminine leadership.  The countries led by women, with New Zealand being a prime example, are much better off.  She contributes this to the fact that women are better listeners, are humble and are guided by collective wisdom.  This certainly resonates a lot with me and perhaps in some small way was hovering in my mind back in 1984 when I created a piece for Avodah based on the M’Chamocha prayer.  Reflecting back on the piece today, I can see some seeds there that I can relate to.

There are many places on the Internet to learn about the M’Chamocha prayer so I am not going to spend much time writing about that.  Instead I want to share that the reason I decided to create this piece (which could be danced both in Shabbat services and in concerts) was that the prophetess Miriam is associated with the prayer and related text, and Exodus 15:20 says Miriam “took a timbrel in her hand, and all the women went out after her in dance with timbrels.”  I was constantly looking to know more about biblical women at the time, and of course how appealing it was that the word “dance” is connected with Miriam here. But as many people have written, there are elements in the surrounding biblical text that are troubling.  Particularly that the Israelites are celebrating while the Egyptians are drowning in the sea.  Fortunately there is a midrash that says God told the angels to stop dancing and celebrating, as the Egyptians are “my children” too and they are drowning.  This midrash inspired the middle section of the piece, where the women show compassion to each other and for the Egyptians, and that is the section I can still relate to today.    

The piece was commissioned by Temple Emanuel in Cherry Hill, NJ with music composed by Cantor Deborah Bedor, then a cantor on Long Island.  It was especially meaningful to be working with a woman composer on this piece. Later she would compose another piece for us based on the wedding ceremony. 

What I remember most about this piece was how much I enjoyed the beautiful dancing of the three women. I loved the beautiful interpretation given by the many women who had roles in this trio through the years. For me the heart of the piece is compassion,  and through compassion an appropriate kind of appreciation of freedom can come, not a celebration when someone else is dying.  More than ever, leadership with compassion is the bottom line.  May each of us hold compassion in our hearts as we struggle through our various challenges.  

Please continue to scroll down and see some of my favorite pictures of the M’chamocha in rehearsal. One rehearsal outside by a lake and another while on tour in the San Francisco area.

Standing: Deborah Hanna
Sitting from l. to r. Beth Bardin and Kezia Gleckman Hayman
From l. to r. Kezia, Deborah and Beth

These two pictures were taken when we were “in-residence” for a summer program and had some free time. I thought the lake made a beautiful setting to run the piece. 

These two photos of Kezia were taken by Tom Scott in a rehearsal (onstage) of the piece.

Biblical quote that inspired the piece:

“Then Miriam the prophet, Aaron’s sister, took a timbrel in her hand, and all the women followed her, with timbrels and dancing” (Exodus 15:20).

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How Binding Evolved Over Time, and a Fun Casting Story

JoAnne Tucker / / Dance Midrash, New York Company

It was very insightful to view three videos of Binding and see how the piece evolved from its first performance in 1989.  The premiere performance that I wrote about in last week’s blog featured two guest performers integrated into the piece.  Cantor Mark Childs and Rabbi Norman Cohen were an important part of the performance.  Mark sang, narrated and was part of the stage action.  Norman also narrated and participated onstage.  In a video of a performance done five years later with Cantor Bruce Ruben, he was very visible but never interacted directly with the dancers.  The choreography of the dancers remained basically the same.  As with the first performance the dancers gave strong and dramatic performances.

For me, in all three videos the strongest moment in the piece is when one of the dancers who has been associated with the character of Sarah dramatically screams “No” instead of “Hineni” (“Here I am”). 

This occurs after the following narration:

And Abraham picked up the knife to slay his son.  Then an angel of the Lord called to him from heaven: ‘Abraham! Abraham!’ and he answered…

Three dancers respond with the traditional “Hineni.” The fourth dancer, her arms held as if cradling a child, screams “No!”

Carla Norwood Armstrong, in writing an Avodah memory, remembered that during a rehearsal of Binding, “when I let out the scream a security guard came running into the room to make sure that we were okay.”

In the third video,  the dancers handled the whole piece, while I played thetriangle and the drum at appropriate places.  I remember a particularly strong rehearsal when I had just added much more for the dancers to do, and one of the dancers, Tanya Alexander, made me stop and think to myself, “Wow she is a strong actress.” It wasn’t just the scream… it was the whole way she was developing her character and making the lines she was saying so believable.

I told Tanya about my call and asked her if she wanted to read for Julie that afternoon.  Of course she said she did.  We continued rehearsing without Tanya and a little while later I got a call from Julie asking if I would mind if Tanya missed rehearsal the next day, as Julie wanted to cast her.  I agreed.  

At that time my daughter Julie was casting the show Law and Order: Special Victims Unit. At a break in rehearsal I impulsively picked up my cell phone and called her.  I mentioned that one of the dancers was a particularly strong actress.  Julie asked me a few questions about her and I described Tanya to her.  Julie said she was actually looking for an actor for a young single mom role that might be just right for Tanya.  The next thing out of her mouth was a request that I send Tanya over to read for her.  

Tanya and I used to laugh about the fact that her actor friends were surprised that she had gotten that part on Law and Order: Special Victims Unit because she had been in a modern dance company directed by the mother of the casting director.  

While I don’t have a photo of Tanya in Binding I do have this photo of her in Kaddish in a performance at Smith College taken by a student in 2000.

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Rehearsals Begin for Binding

JoAnne Tucker / / Dance Midrash, New York Company

Rehearsals began with four collaborating dancers.  Deborah, Kezia, Susan and Beth (Bardin) had all helped to create Sisters.  There was an ease and comfort of working together that I really appreciated with a text like the Akedah which is challenging and disturbing.  I knew where I wanted to begin and that was opening with an angel ballet.  Having been introduced to a wide variety of percussion instruments by Newman Taylor Baker I also had decided that we would use text, chanting and percussion to accompany the movement.  That gives a certain freedom to choreographing as there is no music we need to follow.  It also means we don’t have any form to follow or any musical drive to motivate the piece.

I asked Mark Childs, the cantor we had worked with in Let My People Go, to help create the cantorial score of the piece and to be in at least the first performance in December 1989.  I was very grateful that Rabbi Norman Cohen had indicated his willingness to both speak before the piece was performed and to be part of the performance as well.

So we began with the angel ballet and played around with movement that might reflect a surreal appearance.  This included the dancers walking on tiptoe backwards, making diagonal crossing paths. Ritual movement from the Kedusha prayer would be incorporated.  The Kedusha is part of the Amidah, “the standing prayer which is central to every Jewish service.”  The Kedusha “calls us to imitate the choirs of angels singing ‘Holy, holy, holy.’ There is a custom of rising on our tiptoes with every repetition of the word kadosh, holy.” (https://velveteenrabbi.blogs.com/blog/2015/08/shabbat-morning-gratitude.html) 

We would take it a step further by turning the rising on the tiptoes to three jumps!  And toward the end of the opening angel ballet which is accompanied by a triangle percussion instrument, Mark would elegantly and boldly chant the traditional prayer.  Following that, the angels would birth the ram, inspired by Frederick Terna’s painting,  to the accompaniment of the traditional sounds of the shofar.

Costumes can sometimes help create a mood.  Somehow I wanted to have a very simple look to the piece and yet have the dancers have fabric that could indicate angel wings.  I loved the pants we had for performing the piece M’Vakshei Or and thought they could work with a black leotard.  The pants had a wrap-around design that gave a perfect place for fabric to be added.  Sometimes when I don’t know what to do for costumes I wander in department stores, particularly in designer areas.  As I was wandering around a store I came across a very simple and elegant chiffon poncho.  It had an irregular cut to it.  The price was over $200 and definitely out of our budget.  I drew a quick sketch of how it was constructed and realized it would be simple to make.  Next stop was the fabric store to pick out four different pastel colors in chiffon and enough extra to add some fabric to the pants.  The costumes worked and gave just the effect I wanted.


The Angels birthing the ram. From l. to r. Beth Bardin, Susan Freeman (as the ram), Deborah Hanna, and Kezia Gleckman Hayman in the chapel at Hebrew Union College – Jewish Institute of Religion, NYC.  Much to my disappointment we have neither formal professional pictures of this piece, nor any taken in dress rehearsal.  Luckily we have a video of the dress rehearsal.  So I have copied the VHS to a DVD and then to an MP4 file.  Using a screen shot I have captured some moments from the piece that I will be sharing in the blog. 

The next section of the piece is based on exploring this line of text: “After these things, God put Abraham to the test.” What were these things?  A duet begins between Deborah and Susan inspired by this poem:

Ishmael the older brother, boasted of his
Blood and brayed: My blood was drained when I was thirteen:

The younger Isaac whispered: if God
Wishes to take me, let God take all of me.


Deborah (standing) and Susan in the forefront as the brothers

At one of the early rehearsals Susan arrived with two poems she had written that she offered for the piece.  With her permission I share these poems which became part of the piece (with slight variations) and inspired choreography.

Abraham’s Trial
 
Hagar is crying – –
Banished and weary – –
In the wilderness.
The desert horizon is
Thirst and starvation.
Collapsing to her knees
She buries her face – –
Not to watch as Death’s path
Unwinds its parched fingers
Ready to take her son
In its suffocating embrace.
 
Hagar is crying in the  – –
After these things
Abraham was put on trial. Abraham is crying,
Forced to turn,
Return to the place
Familiar in his dreams – –
Wilderness.
(written by Rabbi Susan Freeman)
 

Beth and Kezia (l-r) as Hagar interpreting this poem in dance.

The piece continues using the second poem that Susan wrote:

The Birth of Isaac
 
Before these things
Sarah lay breathless.
Her eyes full, her cheeks damp,
Abraham holding their newborn son,
Joyous astonishment – –
And Sarah laughed.
Amazing is the One
Who creates life and death,
Laughter and tears.
And they called the child Isaac.
 
After these things
Sarah lay breathless,
Her eyes full, her cheeks damp.

A dance follows with Deborah as Sarah holding her new son and the three other dancers giggling and laughing in movement until the movement changes to a more hysterical, crying tone.

As the story unfolds Norman and Mark join the dancers on stage portraying Abraham and Isaac.

I could go on describing how the piece continues but instead let me invite you to click this link and see the final rehearsal for yourself.

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The Beginnings of a New Piece Based on the Akedah and Terna’s Paintings

JoAnne Tucker / / Art, Dance Midrash, New York Company

Shortly after the creation of Sisters, Rabbi Norman Cohen suggested Avodah create another dance midrash piece based on the Akedah portion of Genesis (22: 1–19) where God commands Abraham to offer his son Isaac as a sacrifice.  The Joseph Gallery of Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion was planning an exhibit of paintings by Frederick Terna called  “Articulation of Hope: The Binding of Isaac.”  Norman thought an Avodah concert featuring a new piece based on Terna’s paintings would be excellent to include in the series of programs related to the Exhibition. I had mixed feelings about focusing on these lines of text as they were very difficult for me to relate to. I agreed and we set the date for December 13th, the last of the programs so I could wait until the paintings arrived at the college and I could see Terna’s visual interpretation.

About a week before the opening, Norman called to let me know that the paintings had arrived and suggested I walk through the gallery with him to look at them.  This would also give me an opportunity to discuss the text with him and gain some more insight into these critical lines that play such a strong role in Jewish life… not only read when that portion of the Torah is read but also read on the High Holiday of Rosh Hashanah (Jewish New Year). 

As I walked through the gallery, studying each painting carefully I was struck by the strong role of the angels and the ram that is finally sacrificed instead of Isaac. A painting entitled An Offering Set Aside shows the ram as an egg in a womb of perhaps an angel.  Once I saw that painting I thought I might have a place to begin.

In my file I found a brochure that HUC-JIR created for the exhibit that includes a biography of Terna and a scholarly essay written by Norman on Frederick Terna and the exhibition.  Norman notes:

Drawn to the piercing questions of the Akedah, Frederick Terna has wrestled with this text for many years. As a Holocaust survivor he has found in this story one vehicle to deal with his own life experiences and to express deep-seated emotions in a most creative manner.  

Norman also refers to the one painting that had the most poignancy for me in beginning the creative work on the piece.

An Offering Set Aside reminds us that from the very outset of creation, the ram, the salvational vehicle and through its horns, the symbol of the messianic, is waiting.  Programmed into human existence from its inception is the potential for redemption.

When I left Norman that day after seeing the paintings, I had a hunch where the new piece on the Akedah would begin.  I also was impressed with Terna’s paintings which while sometimes showing the pain and suffering of the text also had a softness and nurturing quality to them using feminine colors.  Perhaps that could calm my uncomfortable feeling of creating a piece on text that I found extremely puzzling and which did not have a woman’s voice in it at all.  It was a story of a father and son with Sarah, the mother, not even mentioned.

In reflecting back on developing this new piece on just nineteen lines of text from Genesis I realized it brought together elements that both challenged and inspired me.  It required that I do research and make sure I was aware of traditional midrashim as well as contemporary thought.  It involved collaboration with Rabbi Norman Cohen, an outstanding scholar; Mark Childs, a cantor I had just worked with in creating “Let My People Go,” and a wonderful group of dancers.  And then there were the paintings of Frederick Terna to inspire and point me in new directions.

When I looked at traditional midrashim on the nineteen lines it was fascinating to me to see that the phrase “after these things,” which is part of the opening line of text,  had lots of midrashim. Hum… we could work with this in dance… indeed what were “these things” that might have caused God to put Abraham to such a test as to sacrifice his son?  

I had also recently read a book called The Thirteen Petalled Rose: A Discourse on the Essence of Jewish Existence and Beliefby Adin Steinsaltz.  In the book he talks about angels in Jewish text, suggesting that each is a manifestation of a single emotional response or essence.  Angels were an important part of Frederick Terna’s paintings and so Steinsaltz’s words became particularly meaningful for me as I prepared to meet with the dancers and begin work on the new piece.

It would be an interesting journey working with the four dancers to create the piece, and both Norman Cohen and Mark Childs had agreed to collaborate and even perform in the first performance.  Luckily I have a video of the final rehearsal for the performance, which I will refer to in the next blog on this piece. I also have two other videos of the piece:  one that is done five years later and a third that was done eight or nine years later.  As I watched all three videos one evening I was struck by how a piece evolves over time  — from when Norman Cohen and Mark Childs were part of the piece,  actually moving on stage with the dancers; to a performance with a cantor alone singing and narrating the story;  to the dancers handling singing, chanting text and narrating as they move. I will share more about this over the next several blogs.

Before closing this blog I want to share more about the painter Frederick Terna.  The program for the exhibition of his paintings on the Akedah includes a section that he wrote:

About twenty years ago, leafing through one of my old sketchbooks, I came upon a drawing that resembled a person wielding a knife over a smaller figure. It made me pause and I wondered who I feared or who I had wanted to kill.  Searching for an answer and not finding one, I wondered about the prototype, the archetype.  Abraham and Isaac came to mind.  I opened a new sketchbook, put aside the old one, and proceeded to play with the idea.


He continued to explain the relationship of his paintings to the Holocaust:

During World War II, I spent more than three years in German concentration camps.  Painting around the theme of the Akedah has become one of my ways, though not the exclusive one, of dealing with those years.  

I was curious if Frederick Terna was still alive; since he was born in 1923 he would be 96 now.  I Googled and found that he is indeed alive and he had an exhibit at St. Francis College in Brooklyn Heights, NY in the winter of 2017.

On a website called The Ripple Project there is a wonderful interview of him that is called “A Lesson in Civility” and I quote from it. Here’s a link to read more and see some recent photos which I hunch are from about 2017: 

A writer from the Ripple Project asked Fred what he thought of the Presidential election.  His response is described:

He closed his eyes for [a] second, as he often does before he begins to speak, as if to enhance the drama. Tilting his head right and with a wry smile said: “I’m disappointed, confused, and surprised but not worried. Dictators don’t last, it’s against human nature. We just need to keep our civility.” 

As the discussion continued:

Fred responded in a deeper tone, the smile was gone: “When we were in the camps, facing death, humiliation, starvation, anger, not knowing if we will live another 10 minutes… we still kept our civility. We always knew the Nazis wouldn’t last, it’s against human nature. It doesn’t matter what the Nazis did to us, how much they screamed and yelled at us. When we were alone in the room, at night, we were civilized. We knew that our civility is the key to survival, our humanity and civility will outlast the Nazis. It might take a month, a year or ten, but it will outlast them.”

I am indeed very humbled and inspired by both the paintings and words of Fred Terna.  Civility is something for all of us to keep in mind each and every day.

Postcard announcing the Exhibit at HUC-JIR

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More on Sisters: A Peek into the Rehearsal Studio and Some Dancers’ Reflections

JoAnne Tucker / / Dance Midrash, Dances on Biblical Women

In the Summer 1992 issue of Outlook (the Women’s League for Conservative Judaism’s magazine), Kezia and I wrote an article entitled “Midrash in Motion” which shared more about our process of creating Sisters, including some of the dancers’ thoughts and conversations in the rehearsal studio.

            “Maybe Leah’s eyes were weak from crying,” Deborah suggests.

            “Maybe,” muses Kezia. I don’t think she really had weak eyes. Other people just called them weak because she was thoughtful and withdrawn, especially compared to Rachel, and sensitive in a way people would not see.” 

            “Deborah, your interpretation matches a traditional midrash,” interjects JoAnne. “However, I want to focus on Rachel and Leah’s reactions when they were described as the beautiful Rachel and the weak-eyed Leah.”

            This snatch of conversations did not take place in an ordinary midrash class. Deborah Hanna and Kezia Gleckman Hayman, professional modern dancers of the Avodah Dance Ensemble, are rehearsing….

            Focusing on the initial question, two dancers improvised as [Cantor] Stone repeatedly chanted, “Rachel was beautiful, Leah had weak eyes.”  Coached by Tucker, Stone moved closer and closer to each dancer, first shouting the text in their ears, and then whispering.  The dancers reacted, their movements altered by the forceful suggestions of the intruder.  It was immediately clear that such chanting would be powerful.

Since the article was written and published several years after the piece was created, it ended with some reflections by Deborah and Kezia about performing the piece.

In mentioning the company’s community of performers, we must mention that when Sisters (and other works) toured over the years, if the original cantor could not travel with the company, exceptional local cantors occasionally agreed to take on the role in the piece – not an easy task, since it meant learning the role mainly by studying a video and then having usually only one quick rehearsal both to coordinate with the dancers and to master the staging.  And staging was complicated – for everyone – because it required customizing the choreography to fit most safely and dramatically into each unique performance space, which often included features such as stairs.  We are grateful to all the local cantors who performed so artistically and soulfully with us over the years, for Sisters and other company repertoire.

The form of the piece has remained substantially the same. Kezia and Deborah are still stepping into the sisters’ lives.  And yet, they still ponder the meaning of Leah’s weak eyes – in discussions and in dance.  In each performance, Leah discovers a new element of her feelings toward Rachel.  In each performance, Rachel feels a bit differently when she chooses to reveal the secret sign, thereby surrendering her bridal veil.  Each time, the cantor’svoice reveals new shades of emotion.  Each time, the company’s community [of performers] creates a bond distinct from the previous performance.  Each time, new midrash is created.

In 2004 when I was getting ready to leave the New York area I invited dancers and company collaborators to a Sunday afternoon gathering.  I asked both those that attended and those that couldn’t make it to write an Avodah Memory.  Rabbi Susan Freeman shared this one:

            Besides all the laughing and intense improvising…. I often think of the awe-inspiring moments of holding a pose in “Sisters” at a synagogue in suburban Detroit – with the sanctuary in the style of an enormous tent.  Any gaze extended into the “folds” of this amazing architecture.  I felt so alive – spiritually, intellectually, emotionally, socially, aesthetically.  It was one of those unique experiences of being wholly present – when the immediate moment becomes aligned with the eternal moment. 

The performance Susan is describing took place at Temple Beth El in Bloomfield Hills, outside of Detroit.  The cantor’s role there was beautifully performed by Cantor Gail Hirschenfang. With a satisfying sense of life’s circles, Kezia is delighted to note that Cantor Hirschenfang is now the cantor of the temple to which Kezia belongs in Poughkeepsie. 

The photograph of the building’s outside is by Rob Yallop from the website MichiganModern.org.  A photo of the soaring inside of the temple, with the “folds” described by Susan, can be found at the following link.

Here is a link to see a video of the first performance of Sisters.

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Cantor Meredith Stone on being a part of Sisters

JoAnne Tucker / / Dance Midrash, Dances on Biblical Women

Meredith Stone has served as Cantor of Congregation Emanu-El of Westchester in Rye, New York for more than 30 years. Among her contributions to the congregation are many creative initiatives in worship, a vibrant women’s study group, and years of innovative musical programming.  She is an accomplished soprano with a broad range of professional credits. She graduated from Brown University, holds 2 Master’s degrees in music, and received an honorary doctorate from Hebrew Union College.  She and her husband live in New York City and have 2 wonderful daughters now in college. She loves immersing herself in creative endeavors, especially making art, and hopes to one day get beyond Wednesday in the New York Times crossword puzzle. 

JoAnne: In writing the blog on Sisters I found I had some questions and I reached out to Meredith to ask if she had any information to share.  What follows are my questions, her answers and her reflections on being a part of the collaboration of Sisters.

JoAnne: We used quite a few poems in the piece. Do you know where we found them?

Meredith: Sadly, all I recall about the poems is that you and I went on a big scavenger hunt looking for anything related to Rachel and Leah.  Which was more challenging but perhaps more rewarding than today when you can find so much online without any effort at all.      

JoAnne: Opening vocalise is by Ron Nelson. What do we know about him?

Meredith:  Ron was a composer and beloved teacher of music theory at Brown University where he taught for many years. As a music major, I took several classes with him.  (He made music theory feel relevant: I remember one day he played us a Stevie Wonder recording then went to the piano and analyzed all the chords for us.) A terrific guy.  Looks like he’s now 89 and living out west. 

JoAnne: There is a piece we used called Rachel m’vakoh al Boneho.  Any information about this one?

Meredith: Yes, this is a classic piece of Chazzanut “Rachel weeps for her children” by David Roitman. 

Meredith continues sharing her thoughts about participating in Sisters:

As a young child my dreams of becoming a ballerina were shattered when I realized I’d never get to appear in The Nutcracker (which I saw every year) at the Boston Ballet since I didn’t study in their prep program.  But the real reason is that châiné turns made me dizzy and I couldn’t stand getting sweaty.  Singing required far less exertion!

I had always loved dance and was excited when JoAnne approached me with the opportunity to collaborate with Avodah.  I was intrigued by the idea of exploring together the complex relationship between siblings, especially sisters, and enjoyed tracking down music and poetry that could enrich the piece.  I couldn’t have been more honored to appear onstage as a “dancer” Ha!  JoAnne was great about integrating me into the group and making me look like I was one of them, sort of!  

I loved combining different aspects of artistic expression with dance – singing, Hebrew chant, instrumental music, spoken word. 

I also enjoyed seeing the creative process unfold.  I had had no idea that dancers helped choreograph pieces, experimenting with different ways of moving, actively participating in the development of the work.  I was more accustomed to the world of opera in which you were expected to interpret a musical score and follow the stage director.  The dancers were so integral to the process, motivated, intelligent and fun!  We had such a good time when we travelled.  I recall we even participated at an American Conference of Cantors convention in Florida when we were asked to create a worship service in movement and dance.  

Rehearsing in Chinatown had some nice side benefits – really cheap noodles at Bo Ky on the corner of Mulberry and Bayard, and great buys on exotic vegetables and cool knock-offs along Canal Street. 

Looking back, the unique opportunity of working with JoAnne and Avodah gave me so much- igniting my creativity, which I’ve cultivated ever since and which has sustained me through my last 30 years in the cantorate.  

Thank you, Avodah.  Thank you, JoAnne!

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Sisters: A Dance Piece on Rachel and Leah

JoAnne Tucker / / Dance Midrash, Dances on Biblical Women

Thirty-one years ago. That is when this piece received its first performance,in a concertsponsored by the Corpus Christi Jewish Community Council in Texas. Sisters was a collaboration between Cantor Meredith Stone and myself.  Meredith’s brother Rabbi Warren Stone was a rabbi at a Reform congregation in Texas and he arranged the performance in Corpus Christi. Before I write about the specifics of the piece I want to say how grateful I am that I kept scrapbooks on Avodah. Not only do I have ten scrapbooks of Avodah history but also videotapes from many performances, and some of them include my narration which gives me an idea of what was important to me at the time.  For a few pieces I even have a file with notes and musical scores.  For Sisters,a piece about the Biblical sister wives, Rachel and Leah, I have a file, a video of the piece in November 1988 with my narration and another video in 1995 with some different performers and again my introduction to the piece.  I could not write these blogs without having these materials to refresh my memory.

Of the many pieces I choreographed over the 34 years I was artistic director of Avodah, this one was unusually meaningful to me.  In watching it again I am also particularly fond of the choreography. One of the main reasons I began Avodah and continued particularly in the later 70’s and on was to find the woman’s voice in the Torah, particularly the five books.  The importance of these five books (Genesis, Exodus, etc.) resonated strongly with me as a portion is read each Shabbat and by the end of the Jewish year the five books have been completely read.  The patriarchal tone is so strong that I found myself consistently looking for the female voices.

I was not alone.  The 1980’s was a time when there was a lot of feminist writing, art, dance and theatre happening in religious spheres. The first female rabbi, Rabbi Sally Priesand,had been ordained in 1972 by Hebrew Union College. Earlier in 1935 Regina Jones had received semicha (ordination) by a liberal rabbi in Berlin.  She had found work as a chaplain.  Remaining in Germany she died in Auschwitz in October of 1944 at the age of 42.  By the 1980’s Rabbi Sally Priesand had her own congregation in Tinton Falls, NJ having first been an Assistant and Associate Rabbi at Stephen Wise Synagogue in Manhattan, which she left when she realized she would never become their Senior Rabbi.  After a few years she became the Rabbi for Monmouth Reform Temple and was there until she retired in 2006.  I always felt a strong emotion on the several occasions when we performed at Monmouth Reform Temple, aware of the strong pioneering efforts it took her to be the first!

In writing about Sisters, I want to set the scene for the kind of energy that was going on among many women in religious communities at this time. New feminist prayers were being written.  The first women-only Passover Seder was held in 1976 co-hosted by Esther M. Broner and Phyllis Chesler and attended by 13 women including Gloria Steinem and Letty Cottin Pogrebin.  By 1988 Feminist Passover Seders were gaining popularity and it was in 1988 that Debbie Friedman wrote Miriam’s Songand introduced it at a NYC Seder where the women grabbed tambourines and filled the room with dance. 

Rosh Chodesh groups had begun to form in the 1970’s.  While reference to the woman’s role in Rosh Chodesh (the holiday celebrating each new moon) goes all the way back to Talmudic times, women centered groups were gaining popularity throughout the United States in the 1980’s

As I began to focus on creating Sisters on the story of Rachel and Leah I was aware of this new energy and wanted to capture it in this new piece.  I found the perfect collaborator in Cantor Meredith Stone.  We played with ideas for the piece for well over a year.  

Susan Freeman, a rabbinic student at HUC-JIR, had also recently joined the company which meant she would also be able to recite prayers in Hebrew as accompaniment or counterpoint to Meredith’s chanting and singing.

As I watched both videos of the piece I was struck at how well developed the choreography was in each section.  Meredith and I had clearly defined each section. The choreography for each part had a distinctiveness and unique phrases that were developed.  At the same time I felt the piece held together as a whole.

The piece opens by setting the retelling of the story of the sister wives as if it is happening in the midst of a Rosh Chodesh ceremony.  The movements for this section are very circular and inspired by the shape of the new moon.  Meredith is humming a vocalization by composer Ron Nelson while Susan is chanting the Rosh Chodesh prayer from the Reform Gates of Prayerbook while she circles the three dancers in the center who are doing very circular and lyrical movement.  

As the music builds and the moon-like movement begins to fade, Susan and the dancer from the center who won’t be portraying one of the sisters begin wrapping the other two dancers with an imaginary thread.  

From the beginning of Sisters.Beth Bardin standing and Susan Freeman on the ground. Photo by Stanley Seligson.


In the 1995 video I shared with the audience that this section was inspired by the idea that red threads are given out at Rachel’s Tomb located at the northern entrance to Bethlehem.  Several years earlier I had been to the Tomb and gotten my red thread which I tied on my wrist and wore for quite a while.

Custom says that getting a red thread at Rachel’s Tomb goes back about 150 years.  Usually the small length of thread which is just enough to tie around one’s wrist comes from a much longer red thread that had been wound around the Tomb several times.  It is thought that the thread can protect a person.

While the wrapping has been going on Meredith has been singing Roitman’s Rachel Weeps for Her Children, a very strong and moving piece.  Susan also starts reciting a poem:

And the children struggled together
     Two nations
One stronger than the other
The elder… the younger
Brothers sisters

Meredith joins her saying the word “sisters.”

The scene is now set for totally focusing on Rachel and Leah.  They perform a lyrical, gentle duet with a lively and playful middle section accompanied by a piece of Bartok which Meredith played on a recorder.  Chanting continues telling the story of Leah and Rachel.

From l to r: Kezia Gleckman Hayman as Rachel, Deborah Hanna as Leah accompanied by Cantor Meredith Stone on the recorder.  Photo by Stanley Seligson.

There is a traditional midrash that says Rachel and Jacob had a secret sign, and that Rachel shared that sign with Leah so that Jacob could be deceived by having the older sister Leah under the wedding veil instead of his beloved Rachel.  The secret sign was for Rachel to touch her toe, thumb and ear.  This provided wonderful inspiration for movement with Rachel demonstrating the three gestures to Leah and then Leah following through with them in a short solo showing some of her anxiety.

Strong diagonal crosses have always been a favorite of mine and are used in the piece as Susan recites, to Meredith’s drumming, the names of “the children they bore.” Coming from opposite corners the two dancers come into the center and then circle around each other.  This is repeated several times until  they are in the center and  Benjamin’s name is repeated over and over as Kezia portraying Rachel is falling to the ground, using a traditional Graham contraction and ending in stillness to capture the idea that Rachel died during the childbirth of Benjamin. 

I remember having a hard time finding an ending to the piece.  I asked Deborah playing Leah to reach out and touch Rachel’s hair.  Kezia instinctively slowly sat up.  As if brought back to life, Rachel then rises and the other two dancers join the group with the Bartok melody coming back as well as some movement from the earlier duet as the following poem by the Israeli poet Rachel is recited:

Her blood is flowing in my veins
And in my song is heard another
The shepherdess of Laban’s sheep,
Rachel our mother

The very first time I saw a full dance run-through of the piece with the ending, I knew that it worked and I also felt an overwhelming emotion. In fact I excused myself from the room and spent several minutes alone in the hallway.  I realized how personal the piece was to me.  My youngest sister Suzanne at age 26 had committed suicide and the gesture of Leah bringing Rachel back to life was what I wished I could have done.  While that had happened about ten years before, the pain of losing her was still present.  

Kezia and Deborah played a strong role in creating the parts of Rachel and Leah and their performances were filled with intensity along with beautiful dancing. Susan brought her rabbinic studies into the dance studio chanting prayers, poetry and the names of the children along with her dancing.  When Susan left the company, Beth Millstein brought excellent Hebrew chanting skills to the company and was able to easily take on Susan’s role.  Elizabeth took over Deborah’s role as Leah when Deborah moved on.  The part of Rachel was only danced by Kezia, always with such beauty and tenderness. 

Hebrew Union College liked to coordinate programs and exhibits in the Joseph Gallery on the first floor.  While the first performances of Sistersoccurred in the spring of 1988 in Corpus Christi and then in Dallas, the first performance in New York City was at HUC in November as part of a series of programs related to an exhibit of the sculptor Chaim Gross.  In the photo below, we were honored to welcome one of the sculptures into the dance company temporarily.

From l to r: Cantor Meredith Stone, Deborah Hanna, Beth Bardin and Kezia Gleckman Hayman dancing with a Chaim Gross sculpture. Photo by Stanley Seligson.

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