Nov. 11, 7:00 pm, Rutledge Chapel on the Horseshoe
Poetry of Jalauddin Rumi with the Turkish nay flute
A dramatic reading by Peter Rogen from the Kulliyat and the Mathnawi. Musical accompaniment by Arsalaan.
Sponsored by the Department of Religious Studies, the Islamic Cultures Studies Program and the Walker Institute Free and open to the public. Refreshments from Al Amir
Please join us for an evening with poems and music by Jalāl ad-Dīn Muḥammad Rūmī (Rumi), one of Persia’s and Islam’s greatest mystical poets.
Rumi is best understood in his yearning for tawhīd (union with the beloved, the divine) and his burning desire to restore a relationship lost in the here and now. His use of poetry, dance, and music as a way to reach the divine and to restore this lost relationship became instrumental for the “whirling dervishes” who turned these ideas into a ritual. His writings remain an inspiration to this day and he is probably one of the most widely-read Islamic poets in the west, although many non-Muslims inspired by his ideas tend to ignore the Islamic aspects of his writings, in particular the rich presence of the Qur’an.
As a sneak preview, listen to one of my favorite artists, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan perform the Qawwali:
And a western version, infused by classical music:
Please join us tonight at Rutledge Chapel on the Horseshoe.
It is the rainy season, I dig a canal;
In the hope of union I clap my hands.
The clouds are pregnant with drops from the sea of love;
I am pregnant with those clouds.
Don’t say you are not a musician, clap your hands!
Come! I will teach you to become one.
So bright! will you tell me whose house is that?
I love bright houses so!
Alas! I hide my own water of life
As oil drops cover the surface of water.
Far away from the celebrations in Germany, I try to remember the fall of 1989 and I came across Wolf Biermann’s “Ballade vom preussischen Ikarus” (Ballad of the Prussian Icarus). In Germany, Wolf Biermann is a poet and songwriter of almost iconic status. The son of a Jewish communist murdered in Auschwitz in 1943, Biermann’s voice was never comfortable and still defies facile categorization, ein Querdenker (roughly: square peg). His clear-eyed analysis of the realities of life in the DDR, coupled with fierce loyalty to the ideals of Communism–he emigrated to East Germany from Hamburg at age 17–soon brought him into conflict with the authorities and he was banned from perfoming in public in 1965. Eleven years later, in 1976, he was allowed to go on a concert tour in the West.
The following clip is from a concert he gave during this tour in Cologne, a moving reminder of complicated times and the absurdity of the wall:
Here is the German text :
Da, wo die Friedrichstraße sacht
den Schritt über das Wasser macht
da hängt über der Spree
die Weidendammer Brücke. Schön
kannst du da Preußens Adler sehn
wenn ich am Geländer steh
dann steht da der preußische Ikarus
mit grauen Flügeln aus Eisenguß
dem tun seine Arme so weh
er fliegt nicht weg – er stürzt nicht ab
macht keinen Wind – und macht nicht schlapp
am Geländer über der Spree.
Der Stacheldraht wächst langsam ein
tief in die Haut, in Brust und Bein
ins Hirn, in graue Zelln
Umgürtet mit dem Drahtverband
ist unser Land ein Inselland
umbrandet von bleiernen Welln
da steht der preußische Ikarus
mit grauen Flügeln aus Eisenguß
dem tun seine Arme so weh
er fliegt nicht hoch und er stürzt nicht ab
macht keinen Wind und macht nicht schlapp
am Geländer über der Spree.
Und wenn du weg willst, mußt du gehen
ich hab schon viele abhaun sehn
aus unserem halben Land.
Ich halt mich fest hier, bis mich kalt
dieser verhaßte Vogel krallt
und zerrt mich übern Rand
dann bin ich der preußische Ikarus
mit grauen Flügeln aus Eisenguß
dann tun mir die Arme so weh
dann flieg ich hoch, und dann stürz ich ab
mach bißchen Wind – dann mach ich schlapp
am Geländer über der Spree.
and in English:
Where Friedrichsstrasse softly
Crosses the water
Across the river Spree is suspended
The Weidendammer Bridge. Well
You can see the Prussian eagle
When I stand by the handrail
That’s where the Prussian Icarus is standing
With grey wings of cast iron
His arms ache
He cannot fly away—he cannot crash
He does not stir up any motion—and he does not tire
At the handrail across the river Spree
Barbed wire grows in
Deeply into the skin, into chest and leg
Into the brain, grey matter
Girded by a band of wire
Our land is an island
Waves of lead surging around him
With grey wings of cast iron
That’s where the Prussian Icarus is standing
His arms ache
He cannot fly away—he cannot crash
He does not stir up any motion—and he does not tire
At the handrail across the river Spree
And if you need to leave, you must go
I have seen many split
From our half land
I hang on, until, out of the blue
This detested bird will grasp me
And pull me across the abyss
Then, I shall be the Prussian Icarus
With grey wings of cast iron
My arms will ache
I will fly high above, and then I will crash
I will stir up some motion—and I will tire
At the handrail across the river Spree
Der Spiegel has a wonderful article on Biermann and this song. His calls for national unity were not exactly popular with the left. Having performed “So oder so, die Erde wird rot” (loosely translated as Whatever happens, the earth/ground will turn red) he demanded:
“”Die deutsche Einheit, wir dulden nicht, dass nur das schwarze Pack davon spricht! Wir wollen die Einheit, die wir meinen, so soll es sein, so wird es sein.”
We cannot accept that only the conservatives (derogatory term) can speak of German unity! We want unity (a play on a popular 19th century revolutionary song by Max von Schenkendorf, Freiheit, die ich meines), it should come, and it shall become reality.
Two days after these words, spoken at the same concert in Köln, the DDR stripped Wolf Biermann of his citizenship.
Biermann went on to have a distinguished career “im Westen,” in West Germany. He never stopped to challenge his listeners. Remembering that he–ein halbes Judenkind, as he called himself in an interview–survived only because of the allied victory, he has supported the Iraq war and called for support of Israel–both deeply unpopular issues within the German left.
On another timely note, here is a clip of another of his many important songs, Ermutigung: Du lass Dich nicht verhärten (Don’t get hardened in these tough times). Anyone who like me grew up during the peacenik 80s, protesting the arrival of the cruise missiles, knows this song by heart.
This recording is from the very first concert Biermann gave in the East, in Leipzig, on December 1, 1989:
In German history, November 9 is a date loaded like no other.
1938. The most infamous of all November 9ths is Kristallnacht (the Night of Broken Glass).
Kristallnacht rang in the Nazi persecution of Jews, and is often seen as the beginning of the Shoa, or Holocaust. Taking the assassination of a German diplomat in Paris by a German-Polish Jew as a pretext, SA, gauleiter, and ordinary Germans destroyed hundreds of synagogues, Jewish homes and businesses all over Germany. Close to 100 Jews were murdered in the same night, and about 30.000 Jewish men deported to concentration camps. Most Germans reacted mutely to the pogrom, the international reaction was only slightly more outspoken. The US, for instance, recalled an ambassador but did not break off diplomatic relations, while other countries did. In the eyes of many Jews still in Germany, Kristallnacht confirmed that emigration was the only way to survive. As far as I can tell, no memorial is planned for this day in Columbia, SC.
1918. Two days before the end of WW I, after the abdication of Kaiser Wilhelm, the Social Democratic politician Philipp Scheidemann, proclaimed the German (Weimar) Republic, in existence until 1933.
Philip Scheidemann declares the Republic
Five years later, on November 9, 1923 Hitler and Ludendorff launched a failed coup. Worried that other nationalistic, right-wing groups might overshadow their Nazi party (NSDAP), Hitler and his followers stormed a meeting of Bavarian government officials in a Munich restaurant (hence the name Bierhallenputsch) and forced them to support his revolution. When they revoked their “cooperation” a few hours later, Hitler led a march on the center of Munich, which was broken up by police. As a result, the NSDAP was banned and Hitler ended up spending a few months in prison–where he completed Mein Kampf. Unlike the other events that fell on this day, this date was deliberately chosen to evoke anti-republican feelings. The Nazis consciously defamed revolutionaries and even moderate politicians such as Ebert as Novemberverbrecher (November Criminals).
1989. The November 9 remembered in American media this year is the twentieth anniversary of 1989 and the fall of the Berlin Wall, a symbol for the end of communism. On this day, Guenter Schabowski, a member of the East German politburo, (accidentally?) announced new travel regulations for East Germans at a press conference. Asked by reporters when they would take effect, he said: “Immediately.” Having grown up with the Wall, with many members of my father’s family living “drüben” in East Germany, I distinctly remember my initial reaction when the crawler on my flatmate’s TV proclaimed that “Die Berliner Mauer ist gefallen. (The Berlin Wall has fallen):” I thought it was a joke. I was deeply suspicious of these people hugging at Checkpoint Charlie. Germans crying? What was happening to my people? As a West-German student, the direct repercussions on my life were minimal, my life was not interrupted in any meaningful way, although a lot of family members were suddenly a lot closer. I do remember when Mstisvlav Rostropovich whom I admired very much performed by the wall on November 11. Kein Auge blieb trocken, or at least mine didn’t:
1848. Yet another significant event took place on Nov. 9, 1848 — the execution of Robert Blum, a member of the Frankfurt national assembly, a legislative body meant to create a constitution for a unified Germany. Though a parliamentarian and under diplomatic immunity, the Austrian imperial government sentenced Blum to death after supporting Viennese revolutionaries. His execution made Blum a symbol of the failed attempt to create a unified and free Germany.
Like many other Americans (I include myself here, having lived in this country for close to a decade), I am thinking today about the events in Fort Hood, the many who were murdered and injured, and the man–a physician nonetheless!–shouting Allahu Akbar while shooting his two handguns. It takes a lot of ammunition and time to hit 41 people. While it seems that this was a particularly troubled man, perhaps traumatized by the patients’ stories he was supposed to treat, the question remains how anyone could think that it could be possible to legitimize violence by evoking religion.
Of course there is nothing new in calling on God to legitimize violence. Conservative Christians do so when they murder physicians performing abortions, Baruch Goldstein was an observant Jew, and suicide bombers and religiously motivated terrorists are additional examples for this worldview.
At the same time, the religious community, especially their liberal branches, have a hard time addressing the possibility that religious tradition might have contributed to the perpetrator’s acts. It seems to me, however, as Brad Hirschfield noted in today’s blog at the Washington Post, that this is precisely what religious communities are called to do if they want to retain a shred of legitimacy and authenticity. Many of course deny that “true followers” could have acted so cruelly, and they either make excuses or denounce him or her as an outcast.
It is easy to reject and condemn the murders, as so many American Muslim communities have done already; it is much harder to deal with and counter ideas and ideologies that foster such acts. How do we–and I include all religions here–admit that our sacred texts that call for tolerance and social justice can raise such reprehensible ideas? How to deal with the undeniable fact that religious communities frequently foster intolerance and hatred instead of acceptance?
I believe that the first step is to admit that indeed, our religious traditions have strong undercurrents of intolerance (if you have any doubt, pick up a copy of any of Christopher Hitchens’ books). It is not legitimate to look at our texts as if they were rare orchids in a greenhouse, sheltered from the world. Religion is what its practitioners make of it and the picture is often not pretty. For religious leaders, sermons are an appropriate place to start the process. One example is Rabbi Ismar Schorsch’s thoughtful sermon after the Goldstein massacre in Hebron that attempts to do just that. A brief sermon can only be the beginning of an excruciating process, but I hope that many of today’s khutbas raise similar questions and that the Muslim community will come to a place of soulsearching beyond facile condemnation.
I also hope, of course, that yesterday’s events will not lead to a blanket condemnation of Muslims in the US, or of Muslim soldiers in the army. Perhaps we will even cease to ignore the realities of a brutal war but I have my doubts.
Sukkot (the Feast of Booths) commences tonight and if you drive through Forest Acres or Spring Valley by the JCC (Jewish Community Center), you’ll be able to see a number of little huts, all erected in honor of the holiday. It’s mostly a half-holiday, meaning that most people work in the intermediate days. This year, it begins on a week-end, and luckily I won’t have to cancel/move classes to observe the opening days. Like so many other Jewish holidays, this one, too, began as an agricultural feast. And, again like so many other holidays, this one, too, commemorates an aspect of the Exodus, namely the temporary sojourn in huts before the entry into the land when the Israelites are told: “You shall live in booths seven days; all citizens in Israel shall live in booths, in order that future generations may know that I made the Israelite people live in booths when I brought them out of the land of Egypt” (Leviticus 23:42-43).
Just prior to the passage quoted above in Leviticus, God tells Moses to command the people: “On the first day you shall take the product of hadar trees, branches of palm trees, boughs of leafy trees, and willows of the brook” (Lev. 23:40), something that Jews today do in form of the Lulav, a contraption consisting of a closed frond of a palm tree, hadass (myrtle), aravah (willow), and etrog (citron) that is ritually shaken.
This blog is mostly geared towards my students and the local Jewish Studies community. You can reach me at vehlow @ sc.edu, by phone 803.777.1494 or in person at 324 Rutledge Hall on the Horseshoe.
A dramatic reading by Peter Rogen from the Kulliyat and the Mathnawi. Musical accompaniment by Arsalaan.
