Press play here (or listen on Bandcamp) and step into the soundscape with this introductory essay...

Yosef Goldman’s new album, Abitah, is the culmination of several years of musical labor, personal struggle and spiritual resilience. It is the follow up to Yosef’s first record, Open My Heart (Rising Song Records, 2019). The new album continues Yosef’s work of creating new liturgical music for old Hebrew texts that invite participatory singing. Yosef achieves this dual goal of musical creativity and community music leading with a warmth of spirit and an inviting approach to melody. While the focus on community remains at the center of his latest work, Abitah moves in striking new directions with the musical concepts it draws on. The album offers a breadth of textures, musical approaches and a striking approach to weaving personal narratives and communal identities into sacred sounds.

This album is notable for its exploration of Yosef’s family heritage, showing signs of musical maturation and adventurousness in recent years. Over the last decade, Yosef has established himself as an engaging ba’al tefilah and a performer of new liturgical melodies in a populist aesthetic. His work is inclined toward fostering communal ownership of the music. Yosef’s songwriting is informed by mainstream trends in American Jewish life; the songs resound with memories of his childhood exposure to Ashkenazi orthodoxy and to the playful and delightful sounds of popular Jewish children’s choir music. With Abitah, Yosef turns to his Mizrahi Arabic Jewish heritage, sharpening and further defining the picture of his musical biography. With Abitah, Yosef responds to currents in Jewish life and the broader culture that encourage exploration of identity and celebrate the power of collective memory. This new set of songs finds Yosef calling upon the sounds of musical traditions of the Arab world. The record is sonically shaped by the presence of Arabic instruments and musical techniques, inflected by sounds of maqam (Arabic classical modalities) and the current scene of Mizrahi-infused Israeli pop-music.

To achieve this musical synthesis, Yosef undertook a journey of collaboration and discovery. He turned to renowned Israeli producer Yankale Segal to help him fulfill his musical vision, traveling to Israel for a series of recording sessions working with a roster of stalwarts in the Israeli music-scene. Yosef came to work with Yankale in Israel with a list of artists who he admired and wanted to play on the record–ranging from payytanim (liturgical artists) to jazz musicians. Yankale knew all of the artists on Yosef’s wish-list personally and was able to facilitate a series of richly fecund collaborations.

For Yankale, a musician whose work moves between secular Israeli popular music and collaborations with musicians in religious musical traditions, Yosef’s album fits into a growing niche in Israeli music. Yankale describes Yosef’s new work as part of a wave of new manifestations of religious feeling rooted less in ritual and more in an expansive approach to spiritual experience. These trends in the life of Judaism are growing both in the United States and in Israel–but perhaps most notably and surprisingly among secular Israelis, a group previously understood to be staunchly anti-religious. Jewish spiritualism leans heavily on the affective and transcendental states associated with music. Spiritual seekers in this scene are comfortable with the discomfort of being attracted to the emotional life of Jewish texts and sounds even while not conforming to the ritual laws of Jewish tradition. Music plays a prominent role in creating Jewish spiritual community. Yosef’s music, with its characteristic focus on sociality and sensitivity, is closely in step with this approach to Jewish spiritual connection.

Yankale’s production contributes a deep familiarity with religious music of the Jewish-Arabic world. These musical elements contribute a new and uniquely Israeli sound that is equal parts folkloric and pop. Yankale described the recording sessions that produced much of the music on Abitah as having felt like a meeting of friends. Yankale noted, “Everyone connected on a joyful level. There was a natural flow of things.” Yosef wanted the music to have a feeling of intimacy and acoustic presence, like making music in a community. Yosef has cultivated these qualities of community in his performance and prayer leading; on this record the feeling of human encounter expands to include a meeting of cultural elements, woven into an embracing sonic texture.

Yosef’s sensitivity to collaboration and the fostering of musical community is attested to by musician Joey Weisenberg, who has referred to Yosef as the “ultimate collaborator.” Joey describes his first meeting with Yosef thus: “The truth is I knew Yosef for many years before I knew him. There was an amazing prayer leader at Ramat Orah on West 110th Street in Manhattan. The person leading was always surrounded by people and I couldn’t see him. It was a rich, beautiful, deep authentic human voice singing and bringing everyone closer. It was many years before I realized that it was Yosef.”

Yosef has been an integral part of Hadar’s Rising Song Institute since its inception, working alongside Weisenberg and others. He is a longtime Senior Advisor and helped to found the Rising Song Records label. He is proud that his debut album was released on Rising Song Records, and excited that Abitah will be among the first to be released by Rising Song to not be produced by Weisenberg. Abitah represents an evolution in this singing community, moving toward a broadening circle that celebrates a diverse conception of Jewish liturgical creativity and musical excellence. The music on Abitah continues the Rising Song mission of creating empowering new liturgical music that creates opportunity for the community to sing. But it is also a very personal artistic statement of Yosef’s own self-exploration and a testament to his expanding creative powers.

The title track of the record, Yosef’s composition “Abitah,” is a chant that draws its texts from three separate Biblical verses. The first verse is from the Book of Job, and in Yosef’s translation, is rendered as “From my flesh I will see the Divine.” The verse has been interpreted in Hasidic theology as a call to experience the sacred through embodiment, through dance, ecstatic prayer and especially through music. This lineage of Jewish intellectual engagement with embodiment, drawing from the Tanakh and extending through the rabbinic and mystical traditions, is invoked throughout the record. The goal of achieving a ritual encounter through music and communal ecstasy is clearly a motivating impulse in Yosef’s music and is woven into his musical endeavor. The formative link between music, the senses, and ritual is central to the communities that Yosef participates in and that he leads.

The quotation from Job, and the association of that Biblical figure with personal trials and tribulations, also invokes the physical conditions through which Yosef has persevered while working on this music. Ongoing struggles with health that Yosef has experienced were compounded by a concussion, a major injury sustained last year. Working through these adverse conditions seems to have strengthened Yosef’s personal convictions and belief in the healing power of music. Even at a time when his flesh was challenged, he sought and found a rejoinder to the conditions of fragility which are intrinsic to life. In Yosef’s words, this is music of healing. The healing power of these songs are manifest both in the benefits that making this music has wrought for Yosef in his creative life, and in the potentials of the music to fulfill deep and sustaining needs for his audiences. The work of memory that the music engages with, pulling back into family lineages and traditions, can be a blessing for more than just the one who remembers.

Yosef seems to be completely committed to the idea that creating these sounds will provide the material conditions for fostering lives of connection and spiritual elevation for his community of listeners. As Joey Weisenberg told me, “Yosef is a person who perseveres. The struggle makes him more sensitive. His work attempts to musically heal the world.”

Album intro from Yosef, written on Rosh Chodesh Elul 5783:

This album of original Jewish music is a personal prayer for healing, wisdom, and integration. “Abitah” means to behold; to see the wonders hidden all around us. The sacred texts and music of this album are focused on healing and integration — of body, mind and soul. The music is about finding clarity and expanded consciousness, of self and of our relationship with the Source of Life.

The music came from my own prayer life and healing practices, including in times of darkness, of illness and suffering. In moments of feeling distant from the source of life but still asking, “Where is God in this moment?” I kept turning toward the mystery and allowed myself to be there with curiosity and attention. There, in the mystery, I found that I stood on sacred ground. The music that I channeled is the very medicine that I needed on my own journey for healing, growth and integration. This music was the sacred wisdom I needed to live. I hope it speaks to others along their own journeys.

Drawing on the wisdom I’ve inherited from my Mizrahi and Ashkenazi ancestors, as well as my own creative inspiration, the music of Abitah is about awakening to the divine light that surrounds and fills us even in moments of struggle. It’s about recognizing that being present in each moment to the fullness of our experience connects us powerfully to the expansiveness of our spirits, our hearts, and minds and opens us to greater connection.

Abitah is a soundtrack for spiritual journeying, offered with the hope that it can help us to sensitize and prepare for deep encounter, to focus our intention to experience the hidden depth in the Torah and Jewish ritual practice.

A rich and multilayered soundscape, the music of this album is rooted in my hybrid Mizrahi and Ashkenazi heritage and my diverse spiritual and musical influences: from the devotional music of the Middle East to contemporary Israeli chant circles, classic cantorial compositions to contemplative jazz, mystical Hassidic nigunim to psychedelic folk-rock; traditional and experimental, old and new, sacred and secular. The album was produced in Israel and mostly recorded there. It features stellar musicians and singers from the American Jewish music scene, alongside some of the finest artists in Israeli music today, who together brought American and Israeli spiritual/cultural expression into dialogue on Abitah, creating something greater than the sum of its parts.

With the guidance of the great Israeli singer and composer, Shai Tsabari, I found my way to Yankale Segal, a producer who is weaving together disparate worlds of music—and worlds of musicians—from Arab and North African Piyyut (liturgical poetry) to Turkish World music, to jazz, and beyond. Yankele has been a consummate i (study partner), collaborator, mentor, and friend. Together, we created a record beyond any of my dreams.

I share more appreciations below. First and foremost, though, I want to express my gratitude for the support of a community that appreciates the value of new Jewish art and music that stirs our souls. This album was made possible because of your help. Below, I have shared the names of those who backed this album with a financial contribution. I couldn’t have done it without you. And I am grateful to Hadar and the Rising Song Institute for believing in this project and releasing it to the world on the Rising Song Records label, alongside my first album Open My Heart.

Words: Exodus 31:16-17, Shabbat liturgy

Music: Yosef Goldman

Sponsored by Rabbi Andrea Merow, Princeton Jewish Center, Princeton NJ

𝑉𝑒-𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑢 𝑉𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑖 𝑌𝑖𝑠𝑟𝑎𝑒𝑙 𝑒𝑡 𝐻𝑎-𝑆ℎ𝑎𝑏𝑏𝑎𝑡

𝑙𝑎’𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑡 𝑒𝑡 𝐻𝑎-𝑆ℎ𝑎𝑏𝑏𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑒-𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑎𝑚 𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑡 𝑜𝑙𝑎𝑚

𝐵𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑖 𝑢-𝑣𝑒𝑖𝑛 𝐵𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑖 𝑌𝑖𝑠𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑜𝑡 ℎ𝑖 𝑙𝑒-𝑜𝑙𝑎𝑚

𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑡 𝑦𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑚 𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑎ℎ 𝐴𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑖 𝑒𝑡 ℎ𝑎-𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑚𝑎𝑦𝑖𝑚 𝑣𝑒-𝑒𝑡 ℎ𝑎-𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑧

𝑢-𝑣𝑎𝑦𝑜𝑚 ℎ𝑎-𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑣𝑖'𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑎𝑡 𝑣𝑎𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑓𝑎𝑠ℎ

On the seventh day, the Torah says, God stopped creating and was refreshed again. "Vayinafash," from the root of the word nefesh, soul or spirit. The Creator paused from labor to breathe and was “re-ensouled,” This active rest by God was the capstone of creation. God restored God’s own soul.

The Source of Life exhaled, and that out-breath becomes our in-breath. On Shabbat we too are re-inspired. The rabbis teach that each Shabbat we are filled with a "second soul," a neshamah yeteirah. On Shabbat we can feel the full expanse of the Aliveness within us that is a piece of Infinite.

Jewish wisdom teaches that our souls expand, so to speak, on Shabbat. It is our job to care for our expansive soul, our neshamah yeteirah by immersing and delighting in Shabbat through embodied pleasures like eating and drinking and singing. Through the lens of our neshamah yeteirah, every bit of joy on Shabbat is an opportunity for connection with the Source of Life that is within all of creation. And in our joy and encounter with God, we bring joy to God as well.

Shabbat is an enduring sacred venue to contain the encounter of humans and the divine, wherever we might find ourselves. In celebrating and keeping Shabbat, we reconnect with the Presence of the divine in our midsts; the day itself becomes a sanctuary for the indwelling of the Shekhinah.

Shabbat forever contains a spark of connection with God and with our own soul roots that can never be destroyed. Wherever we may wander, The Holy Shabbat is there for us.

May we learn to receive the gift of Shabbat with joy, to pause and step into spaciousness where we reconnect with the ever-renewing Source of Life and taste the Infinite.

Words: High Holiday Mussaf Liturgy

Music: Yosef Goldman, with Eitan Kantor

Sponsored by David Lerman & Shelley Wallock

𝑂𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑎ℎ 𝑙𝑎’𝐸𝑙

𝐴𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑒ℎ 𝑓𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑣

𝐸𝑠ℎ'𝑎𝑙𝑎ℎ 𝑚𝑖𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑢 𝑚𝑎'𝑎𝑛𝑒ℎ 𝑙𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑛

𝐴𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑘'ℎ𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑚 𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑎ℎ 𝑢𝑧𝑜

𝐴𝑏𝑏𝑖'𝑎ℎ 𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝑏𝑒'𝑎𝑑 𝑚𝑖𝑓'𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑣

𝐿𝑒'𝑎𝑑𝑎𝑚 𝑚𝑎'𝑎𝑟𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑖 𝑙𝑒𝑣

𝑈'𝑚𝑒𝑖-𝐻𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑚𝑎'𝑎𝑛𝑒ℎ 𝑙𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑛

𝐻𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑠𝑒𝑓𝑎𝑠𝑎𝑖 𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑡𝑎𝑐ℎ

𝑈-𝑓𝑖 𝑦𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑖𝑑 𝑡𝑒ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑎

Just before the High Holiday morning services reach their peak, the communal emissary of prayer, the Shaliach Tzibbur, turns their focus from praying on behalf of the collective and offers aloud a brief but powerful personal prayer of yearning:

"Ochilah La'El, I put my hope in You, Dear One, that I may come into Your presence," despite the limits of speech, of my vulnerable body, of my singing voice. The prayer leader beseeches the Creator to allow them to convey the soul's stirring that it may sway the hearts of the community through the tools of song and prayer. During a long period of chronic illness and pain, when I was uncertain that my body could sustain the stress of leading Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur services, this is is how I expressed the prayer of Ochilah in my own words:

Instrumental Improvisation, Gal Hever

Featuring Orel Oshrat

Words: Psalms 18:29, 36:10, 67:2

Music: Yosef Goldman

Sponsored by Daniel Eisenstadt & Melissa Lerman

𝐾𝑖 𝑎𝑡𝑎ℎ 𝑡𝑎’𝑖𝑟 𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑖

𝐴𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑖 𝑒𝑙𝑜ℎ𝑎𝑖 𝑦𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎ℎ 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑘𝑖

𝐾𝑖 𝑖𝑚’𝑐ℎ𝑎 𝑚𝑒𝑘𝑜𝑟 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑦𝑖𝑚

𝐵𝑒-𝑜𝑟𝑘ℎ𝑎 𝑛𝑖𝑟’𝑒ℎ 𝑜𝑟

𝐸𝑙𝑜ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑦𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑛𝑢 𝑣𝑒𝑒𝑣𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑢

𝑌𝑎’𝑒𝑟 𝑝𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑣 𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑢, 𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑎ℎ

There is a kabbalistic custom among some Iraqi and Middle Eastern Jews to recite a series of verses about light and our relationship with the divine before lighting Shabbat candles, as well as on the 25th day of Elul, the day that our tradition says was the first day of Creation when light was formed (six days before Rosh Hashanah, on the day that Creation culminated with the creation of humanity). I set a few of those verses to music, as a reflection on how we connect to the spark of our aliveness in times of darkness and uncertainty.

Each of us experiences periods of darkness in our lives. We may feel like we are living under the burden of deep hardship and suffering, of loss and grief, or that the weight of our life experiences has crushed some of our dreams. A job or relationship that nourished or defined us, may have lost its sense of meaning or come to an end.

In times of personal darkness we can feel utterly alone. We call to the divine and the answer is not clear. The path forward may be inscrutable and we don’t know how to move on, how to get unstuck. It may be time to allow ourselves to adjust to night vision, to live in the mystery.

In moments when we find ourselves at the edge of what we can control, we come face to face with the unknown. There, at the edge, we find life waiting for us. Jewish wisdom teaches that there is great power in the mystery — to transform, comfort, and heal. The unknowable darkness itself can be a pathway to a lived experience of the sacred and encounters with the Source of Life that are only accessible in those times in life.

When Moshe tells Israel the story of Revelation 40 years later, he says, “You heard the voice out of the darkness, while the mountain was ablaze with fire” (Devarim 5:20). We need not dispel the darkness to reconnect to our sense of aliveness.

Nireh Or was released on Rosh Ḥodesh Elul a time full of possibility for the year ahead. Sitting in the darkness, with no moon to illuminate the night, the song was offered with the blessing that we may learn to be present with mystery, to encounter the Divine light that flickers forever in our souls, as we embark on our journeys toward teshuvah and the new year that awaits us.

Featuring Itamar Borochov

Words: Psalms 56:9

Music: Annie Lewis & Yosef Goldman

Sponsored by Joseph Shapiro; Rabbi Angela Buchdahl, Central Synagogue, NYC

𝑁𝑜𝑑𝑖 𝑠𝑎𝑓𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑎ℎ 𝑎𝑡𝑎ℎ

𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑎ℎ 𝑑𝑖𝑚’𝑎𝑡𝑖 𝑣𝑒-𝑛𝑜𝑑𝑒𝑘ℎ𝑎

ℎ𝑎-𝑙𝑜 𝑏𝑒-𝑠𝑖𝑓𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑘ℎ𝑎

My wife, Annie Lewis, and I set to music this verse from Psalms as a hope and a fervent prayer that there is meaning in our suffering, that God is with us listening, even when we feel most alone.

Earlier in this chapter of Psalms, the poet cries out from the pain of their suffering. In this verse, they turn back to God to say: Even as I wander about in the wilderness, you keep track of me; you are aware of the extent of my struggles, the depth of my cries. To You, each of my tears is worthy of remembering, of holding close. The poet has faith that God is affected by each tear that is shed.

This psalm is also a forceful reminder that the cries of the oppressed are noted and remembered by God, and they will come to be heard, even as those in power may seek to deny or normalize the oppression. It is on us, as we emulate God, to bear witness to the pain and tears of our siblings and neighbors and to fight for justice.

Midrash Bereishit Rabbah links the image of God carrying a flask of tears to that of the skin of water that Hagar carries out into the desert, after she is sent away by Avraham. In the psalm, the rabbis of the midrash hear echoes of Hagar’s anguished cries as her waterskin dries up in the wilderness of Be’er Sheva and as she sends her child, Yishmael, to sit under the shade of the bushes, where she is certain he will die, his suffering too great for her to bear.

In this verse, the Midrash hears echoes of the cries of Hagar and Yishmael- cries that are heard by God, tears not shed in vain. But by putting these verses side by side, the Midrash is also implicitly comparing God carrying a flask of the tears of humanity to Hagar in exile, with nothing but a skin of water; as if to say that when humanity suffers, God, too is displaced and suffers alongside us. God weeps beside us in our wanderings and finds comfort in accompanying us as we shed our tears. To paraphrase Emma Lazarus, “God can never be fully free until we are all free.”

We wrote this melody during the first year of the COVID pandemic, in honor of all the chaplains and first-line medical professionals working to bear witness to the suffering so many people endured during the pandemic. Even as people were physically isolated and in pain, caregivers were doing God’s holy work, promising, “You are seen. I have taken account of your cries; I have noticed your tears. I weep with you.”

In his book, Man in Search of Meaning, psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl shares the story of meeting with a Chassidic rabbi who had lost his entire family in the Shoah. The man was distraught, worried that whereas his beloved children had died innocently, al kiddush Hashem, sanctifying God's name, he was unworthy of reuniting with them in heaven. Frankl joined with the man on his own theological terms and offered this verse as a proof text that God preserves all of our tears, that God had surely noticed the man’s suffering and that it would not be in vain.

Wherever you find yourself, however distant you may feel from the Source of Life, may you always know that you are seen, you are known and loved; that God is with you, even in your suffering.

Words: Dunash ibn Labrat

Music: Yosef Goldman

Sponsored by Eric Berger & Melissa Lerman

𝐷𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑖𝑘𝑟𝑎 𝑙𝑒-𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑚 𝑣𝑎𝑡

𝑉𝑒𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑧𝑜𝑟𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑘𝑒𝑚𝑜 𝑣𝑎𝑣𝑎𝑡

𝑁𝑒’𝑖𝑚 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑚𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑣𝑒’𝑙𝑜 𝑦𝑢𝑠ℎ𝑣𝑎𝑡

𝑆ℎ𝑒𝑣𝑢 𝑣𝑒-𝑛𝑢𝑐ℎ𝑢 𝑣𝑒-𝑦𝑜𝑚 𝑆ℎ𝑎𝑏𝑏𝑎𝑡

𝐷𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠ℎ 𝑛𝑎𝑣𝑖 𝑣𝑒-𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑚𝑖

𝑉𝑒-𝑜𝑡 𝑦𝑒𝑠ℎ𝑎 𝑎𝑠𝑒ℎ 𝑖𝑚𝑚𝑖

𝑁𝑒𝑡𝑎 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑘 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑜𝑐ℎ 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑖

𝑆ℎ𝑒’𝑒ℎ 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑣’𝑎𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑖 𝑎𝑚𝑚𝑖

𝐸𝑙𝑜ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑏𝑎-𝑚𝑖𝑑𝑏𝑎𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑟

𝐻𝑎𝑑𝑎𝑠, 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑎ℎ, 𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠ℎ, 𝑡𝑖𝑑ℎ𝑎𝑟

𝑉𝑒-𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑎𝑧ℎ𝑖𝑟 𝑣𝑒-𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑧ℎ𝑎𝑟

𝑆ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑚 𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑣𝑒-𝑚𝑒𝑖 𝑛𝑎ℎ𝑎𝑟

𝐷𝑒’𝑒ℎ 𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑚𝑎ℎ 𝑙𝑒-𝑛𝑎𝑓𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑎

𝑉𝑒-ℎ𝑖 𝑘ℎ𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑒-𝑟𝑜𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑎

𝑁𝑒𝑡𝑧𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑖𝑡𝑧𝑣𝑎𝑡 𝑘𝑒𝑑𝑜𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑎

𝑆ℎ𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑟 𝑆ℎ𝑎𝑏𝑏𝑎𝑡 𝑘𝑜𝑑𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑎

“Deror Yikra” is one of the oldest known Shabbat songs, and likely the first to be written for singing outside a synagogue prayer service. It was written by Dunash ben Labrat, the 10th century poet and philologist, who is considered the pioneer of the measured meter in Hebrew poetry, borrowing from Arab poetry, which revolutionized Jewish group singing!

The piyut (liturgical poem) revolves around the idea of the spiritual haven provided for the Jewish people on Shabbat. The opening line echoes the verse from Leviticus (25:10) famously inscribed on the Liberty Bell, which speaks of the semi-centennial year of release, the yovel, the jubilee year, and its radical vision of creating a just society and bringing about redemption.

The poem speaks of the feeling of liberty and freedom that the Sabbath gives to human beings, nature, and the entire world after the six days of Creation. The author expresses the feeling of liberty that the Sabbath gives to every person. In the verses, the author asks God to grant liberty to his people and restore them to their land. He asks God to make the desert bloom and place there a mountain, myrtle plants, acacia trees, and plane-trees. The author reminded God that we are beloved like the apple of God’s eye and concludes by describing the Holy Shabbat as a crown upon our heads.

To me the song is permeated by a sense of longing: the taste of the redemption inherent in Shabbat only strengthens in the author a yearning for ultimate redemption. (In the violent and anguish-filled verses that I chose to omit from this setting, Dunash cries out in anguish for the destruction of his enemies.)

In the middle of the poem, the author prayers for peace like a river. After singing that stanza, there is a break for an instrumental interlude, written by the album’s producer, Yankele Segal that conveys in its gentle syncopation, the polyrhythmic ebb and flow, and unexpected modulation the feel of peaceful but persistent waves of a flowing river.

Instrumental Improvisation, Roy Smila

Featuring Yahala Lachmish

Words: Job 19:26; Psalms 119:18; Psalms 35:10

Music: Yosef Goldman

Sponsored by Lisa Heller & Harry Roth

𝑀𝑖-𝑏𝑠𝑎𝑟𝑖 𝑒ℎ𝑒𝑧𝑒ℎ 𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑎ℎ

𝐺𝑎𝑙 𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑖 𝑣𝑒-𝑎𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑎ℎ

𝑁𝑖𝑓𝑙𝑎’𝑜𝑡 𝑚𝑖-𝑇𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑎

𝐾𝑜𝑙 𝑎𝑡𝑧𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑎𝑖 𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑎ℎ

𝐴𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑖, 𝑚𝑖 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎

This chant is a prayer for higher consciousness and experience of the divine presence through being present with each moment, just as it is, just as I am. Any moment is an invitation to radical wonder and expanded consciousness of the divine.

”Gal einai ve-abitah niflaot mi-Toratechah.” This verse is a prayer that, through the study of Torah, the Holy One may reveal to us wisdom about the meaning of this life.

The Hasidic masters read this as a prayer that we may see wonder in the world, in every moment of this life- “from your Torah.” Through our study of Torah and the Jewish wisdom of our ancestors, we may come to appreciate the wonder of life itself, that all of it is a miracle. Rav Kalonymus Kalman Shapira of Piaseczna writes that

“Mibasri echezeh eloah,” “From my flesh I will have visions of the Divine.”

Read through the lens of kabbalah and Chassidut, these words of Job have come to mean that each of us is able to discern the immanent presence of the divine in our lives; that we can know the creator through the lived experience in one’s physical body.

In its original context, Job is expressing that he has come to know God from within the lived experience in his body, which for him has largely been one of great suffering. As someone who lives with disability, chronic illness and chronic pain, I know how easy it can be to lose track of my sense of aliveness. Caught up in physical and emotional suffering, my own body can feel like an adversary and in that place of disconnection, the Source of Life can feel quite distant.

I have also learned over time that every single moment, whatever its character, presents an opportunity for expansiveness and connection to my aliveness, if I truly allow myself to be present in the moment just as it is, even if the moment is full of pain. Even in those moments it is possible to experience wonder in the fragile and intricate miracle that is my body, created in the image of the Holy One.

The final text, also from Psalms (also found in the beautiful Shabbat morning poem “Nishmat Kol Ḥai”), is “Kol atzmotai tomarnah- Adonai, mi chamocha.” “All my bones shall say, ‘Adonai, who is like You?’" My teacher, Rabbi Ami Silver, shared with me the interpretation of the Ba’al Shem Tov: What is the sound of my bones speaking? It is silence.

The fullest praise that my entire embodied self can offer is beyond words. This also means that even when I don’t have a voice, my body can offer praise to the Creator. It’s a reminder for, in the words of my teacher, the scholar and disability justice activist Rabbi Dr. Julia Watts-Belser calls “loving our own bones.”

In "Loving Our Own Bones: Disability Wisdom and the Spiritual Subversiveness of Knowing Ourselves Whole,” Rav Julia writes “I know in my bones that God relishes the presence of sick, queer, mad, Deaf, and disabled people on this earth. God cherishes us fiercely. The God I know does not share this human fascination with standard-sized bodies, all lined up in tidy little rows. The God I know has chosen for variation: sometimes minute and almost imperceptible, sometimes bold and brash and beautiful in their uniqueness.”

This pasuk is a holy reminder to love myself and my body as much as the divine does. In accepting myself and finding love for my body, even in moments of suffering, I can experience the presence of the divine joining with me in the fullness of it all.

Featuring Eliran Mazoz

Melody: Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev

This mystical melody is attributed to the 18h Century Hassidic master R’ Levi Yitzchok of Berditchev. It is one of the first nigunim with which I remember feeling a deep connection. As a child, our family prayed at many synagogues on Manhattan’s Upper West Side, including several large Modern Orthodox synagogues and Chassidic shtiebls. We also spent one Shabbat a month in Brooklyn, praying at Sephardic synagogues with my Yemenite and Syrian grandparents. But every couple of months we’d visit Shlomo at the Carlebach Shul. Shlomo used this nigun to serenade a groom as he came up to the Torah on the Shabbat before his wedding. It has always felt solemn but also sweet and intimate, full of wonder and mystery. My wife, Annie, and I used this melody during the bedeken veiling ceremony at our wedding, symbolizing that there is so much more than meets the eye. In the words of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, “One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything essential is invisible to the eyes.”

Featuring Yahala Lachmish, Eliran Mazoz

Words: Rabbi Shlomo ibn Gabirol

Music: Traditional Turkish

Sponsored by Shoshana Mafdali Goldman

𝑌𝑒’𝑖𝑑𝑢𝑛, 𝑦𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑑𝑢𝑛 𝑘𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑚 𝑘𝑒-𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑑

𝐴𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑖 𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑢𝑠ℎ𝑚𝑜 𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑑

𝑆ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑢𝑠ℎ𝑡𝑎𝑦𝑖𝑚 𝑛𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑜𝑡 𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑙𝑎𝑐ℎ

𝐿𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑙 𝑚𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑛 𝑠𝑜𝑑𝑎𝑚 𝑦𝑒𝑠𝑎𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑢 𝑔𝑜𝑑𝑙𝑎𝑐ℎ

𝑀𝑒𝑖ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑦𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑟𝑜𝑛 𝑘𝑖 ℎ𝑎𝑘𝑜𝑙 𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑐ℎ

𝑉𝑒-𝑎𝑡𝑎ℎ ℎ𝑎-𝐸𝑙, ℎ𝑎-𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑐ℎ ℎ𝑎-𝑚𝑒𝑦𝑢𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑑

𝑀𝑒𝑖-𝑟𝑜𝑠ℎ 𝑣𝑒-𝑎𝑑 𝑠𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑒𝑠ℎ 𝑙𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑎 𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑛

𝑇𝑧𝑎𝑓𝑜𝑛 𝑣𝑒-𝑦𝑎𝑚, 𝑣𝑒-𝑘𝑒𝑑𝑒𝑚 𝑣𝑒-𝑡𝑒𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑛

𝑆ℎ𝑎ℎ𝑎𝑘 𝑣𝑒-𝑡𝑒𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑙 𝑙𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑎 𝑒𝑖𝑑 𝑛𝑒’𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑛

𝑀𝑖-𝑧𝑒ℎ 𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑢-𝑚𝑖-𝑧𝑒ℎ 𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑑

𝐻𝑎-𝑘𝑜𝑙 𝑚𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑎 𝑛𝑖𝑧𝑏𝑎𝑑 𝑣𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑑

𝐴𝑡𝑎ℎ 𝑡𝑎’𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑑 𝑣𝑒-ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑦𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑𝑢 𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑑

𝐿𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑘𝑜𝑙 𝑦𝑒𝑡𝑧𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑎 𝑦𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑘𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑑

𝐾𝑖 𝑚𝑒-𝑟𝑜𝑠ℎ 𝑣𝑒-𝑎𝑑 𝑠𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑎-𝑙𝑜 𝑎𝑣 𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑑

“Kol B’ru-ei Ma’alah” is a piyyut (liturgical poem) by the 11th century Spanish poet and philosopher, Shlomo ibn Gabirol. Like many Hebrew liturgical poems, it is written as an acrostic. The first letters of the second through the fifth stanzas spell out the poet’s name, Shlomo. The reference to the thirty two paths of wisdom first appear in one of the oldest Jewish mystical texts, Sefer Yetzirah. There, these pathways are made up of the 22 letters of the Hebrew alphabet and the first ten digits, and undergird the architecture of creation.The second is a Turkish melody for a kabbalistic piyyut written by Rabbi Solomon Ibn Gavirol, one of the great poets of the Spanish Jewish community in the 11th century.

This Piyut gained great popularity among all of the Sephardi communities and is sung one Shabbat and at various other times. The melody is a traditional Turkish one.

My maternal grandmother’s family came from Antakya, in the southern tip of Turkey, adjacent to Syria. Their Jewish culture and customs were largely Syrian, but with strong Turkish influences. This final track, juxtaposed with the nigun before it, represents the disparate devotional elements and musical-spiritual influence that I hope are conveyed on this album, including my diverse Jewish ancestral heritage, culminating with a final declaration that all the myriad manifestations of the divine are ultimately all one.

Yosef Goldman - lead vocals

Yankale Segal - electric & acoustic bass, acoustic guitar, mandolin, tar, oud, programming

Amit Sharon - frame drum (10)

Annie Lewis - backing vocals (5)

Chava Mirel - backing vocals (2, 5, 8)

Daniel Freedman - drums (6)

Eitan Kantor - vocals (2)

Eliran Mazoz - vocals (1, 8, 9, 10), acoustic guitar (9, 10)

Gal Hever - oud & qanun (1, 3, 4, 8)

Hanani Zayit - ney (1, 4, 8, 10)

Hila Mazoz - vocals (1, 8, 9, 10)

Itamar Borochov - trumpet (5)

Marni Loffman - backing vocals (2)

Max ZT- dulcimer (6)

Megan Gould - violin, strings (6)

Michael Winograd - clarinet (2)

Noah Diamondstein - backing vocals (5), acoustic guitar (7)

Omri Ido Bar Giora - acoustic guitar (1, 5, 8)

Orel Oshrat -piano (1, 2, 4, 5, 8), synth (8)

Roy Smila - kamanche (1, 4, 7, 8)

Rony Iwrin - percussion (1, 4, 8)

Salit Lahav - accordion (5)

Shahar Haziza - drums (2,5 )

Shai Bachar - keyboards, melodica (6)

Yahala Lachmish - vocals (1, 8, 9, 10)

Yoed Nir - cello, strings (2, 5)

Yoni Battat - viola (2), vocals (1, 8)

Yoni Sharon - percussion (1,4,8)

Zach Fredman - oud (6)

Music by Yosef Goldman (except tracks 9 & 10)

Produced by Yankale Segal

Recorded & Mixed by Shlomi Gvili, Ogen Studios, Kibbutz HaOgen, Israel

Mastered by Matthew Agoglia, The Ranch Mastering

Artwork by Lizzie Sivitz, Nireh Or

I couldn’t have made this record without the support, encouragement, and advice of so many near and far. I am grateful to the twenty-eight fellow musicians and singers from across Israel and the US who joined me on this record; to dear colleagues and collaborators, including Joey Weisenberg, Chava Mirel, Yoni Battat, Noah Diamonstein, Eitan Kantor, Hazzan Rabbi Jessica Kate Meyer, and Yahala Lachmish who were all patient thought partners in this process; to Jon Madof, Mendy Portnoy, Cantor Yitzy Spinner, Basya Schechter, and Saul Kaye for their listening ears and advice. To my teacher Roni Ish Ran, who has been a guide for me as I have reclaimed the ancestral musical heritage of my Mizrahi family; to Sarah Chandler of Shamir Collective for her wisdom and support in launching the crowdfunding campaign and releasing the album; to Lizzie Sivitz of Nireh Or for her exquisite artistry; to Jeremiah Lockwood for his sensitive and insightful liner notes; to Shlomi Gvili, owner and head engineer at HaOgen Studio for bringing the recordings to life. To our Shaare Torah community for joining me in song every Shabbat. To my family, including my brother Bin, my mother Shoshana, and my wife, Annie, for believing in this project with me. To my dear kids, Zohar and Shir, for sharing my excitement about these songs and their tremendous love of music. And to my hevruta, my creative partner for this album- Abitah’s producer, Yankele Segal whose vision, creativity, curiosity and tremendous patience allowed me to articulate a vision for this album and then to create together something beyond what we could have imagined.

The release of this album was only possible because of the support of hundreds of backers who believe in the value of new Jewish music and who contributed to the crowdfunding campaign for Abitah. I am grateful to every one of them. Below is merely a fraction of them.

Rabbi Angela Buchdahl, Eric Berger & Melissa Lerman, Daniel Eisenstadt & Sharon Musher, Shoshana Mafdali Goldman, Lisa Heller & Harry Roth, David Lerman & Shelley Wallock, Rabbi Andrea Merow, Joseph Shapiro

Clarice Kestenbaum, Jacob Adler, Jake Kriger, Rabbi Evan Krame, Susan & Marc Sacks

Brian Abraham & Corrin Ferber, Adina Abramowitz & Naomi Klayman, Rabbi Howard Avruhm Addison & Barbara Breitman, Lauren Adesnik, Cantor Marsha Attie, Rabbis Guy Austrian & Jill Jacobs, Rabbi Josh & Nani Beraha, Nina Black, Erin Eisenberg Blaz, Ira Blum, Sasha Borenstein, Cantor Joshua Breitzer, Debra Brosan, Hillel Coren, Marc Egeth & miriam Steinberg-Egeth, Lauren Fein, Alan & Mara Felder, Elizabeth Feldman, Paul Feldman, Corrin Ferber, John Feuerstein & Rabbi Ilana Schachter, Karin Fleisch & Rabbi Daniel Silverstein, Susan Frank, Ariela Freedman, Steve Freides & Bronwen Eastwood, Patricia Friedman, Carla Friend, Ahuva & Azi Genack, Rabbi Aubrey Glazer, Eric Gold, Rabbi James Stone Goodman, Gregory & Linda Gore, Rabbi Rishe Groner, Judy Groner, Suzanne Shira Guinane, Eli & Sherri Gurock, Adirchai Haberman-Browns, Miriam Haselkorn, Eleanor & Marshall Hershberg, Asher & Sarah Kahn, Rabbi Beth Kalisch, Judith Kastenberg, Rabbi Barry Dov Katz, Hazzan Elana Kaye & Saul Kaye, Sylvia Klein, Rabbi Sharon Kleinbaum, Shira Kline, Michael & Karen Lasday, Rabbi Amichai Lau-Lavie, Rabbi David Lazar, Nancy & Neil Lewis, Stephanie & Adam Lewis, Connie & Alan Liss, David MacRunnel, Alex & Kelsey Mafdali, David & Valerie Mafdali, Jamie Mafdali, Jessie Reagen Mann, Rabbi Jackson Mercer, Rabbi Hazzan Jessica Kate Meyer, Michael Miller, Rabbi Deborah Sacks Mintz, Naomi Morse, Rabbi Bronwen Mullin, Paul Munson, James North, Jenna Pearsall, Stephanie Pell, James and Maxine Perlmutter, Shari Porter, Mendy Portnoy, Judy & David Potasznik, Catherine Radbill, Rabbi Yael Ridberg, Hazzan Jessi Roemer, Chana Rothman, Stephen Rutenberg, Jonathan Satovsky, Jennifer & Joel Schnur, Barbara & Stanley Shapiro, Benjamin Shuldiner, Rabbi Zachary Silver & Tamara Frankel, Adam & Lori Simon, Michael Slater & Shoshana Waskow, Rabbi Felicia Sol, Rabbi Kaya Stern-Kaufman, Cantor Michelle Stone, Rena Strauss, Emily J. Tummons, Rabbi Julia Watts Belser, Rabbi Sheila Weinberg, Rabbi Jay Weinstein, Enid Weisberg-Frank, Cantor Rosalie Will, Rabbi Shawn Zevit