This past Motzoei Shabbos, I did something that I rarely do. I left the neighborhood (silent cheer), attended a concert (audible gasp), and when all was said and done, came home thoroughly uplifted by the whole experience (and the crowd goes wild!).
What made me do such an uncharacteristic thing, you ask? Well, I’ll tell you.
It was another live Shalom Wagshal musical production, and this time it was “Kumzing 3 – Celebrating 50 years of Mordechai Ben David” featuring the one and only MBD himself! And as if that weren’t enough (it was), the show boasted a lineup of musical guests as well; Shmueli Ungar, Yeedle, Aaron Razel, Beri Weber, Ishay Ribo, Naftali Kempeh and Shloime Gertner all came to sing with and honor the man of the hour – the singer and personality who in no small way had inspired, encouraged and paved the way for their own successful careers.
You should have seen me – I was that proverbial kid in the candy store! I sat, swayed and sang along to each and every sentimental song. I delighted in the recognizable arrangements that were accorded to some of Jewish music’s most familiar favorites. When they weren’t clapping along to the beat, my hands had no time to rest as they were too busy willing each nostalgic note from every instrument in the orchestra. If you didn’t know any better, you might have mistaken me for the backup conductor – you know, the one that sits in Row 16, Seat 51 of the second level Binyanei Ha’Umah balcony. And if you think I’m kidding about any of this, just ask the folks sitting on either side of me (insert formal apology to my dear son and nephews here).
After attending such a star-studded event, you can understand why, when contemplating a niggun to accompany this post, I felt pulled towards this particular tune. But before we highlight the details of the composition, let’s first add a bit of context, shall we?
We say every day in וְהָיָה אִם שָׁמֹעַ, that if we are careful to keep His Torah, then Hashem will grant us rain in the fall season so that the land will produce its proper harvest.
In the winter months – beginning the 7th of Cheshvan in Eretz Yisroel and the 21st of Kislev everywhere else – the words “V’sein tal u’matar livracha” are inserted in the Birkas HaShanim bracha of Shemoneh Esrei. But even before we make the official request for dew and rain, starting from Shmini Atzeres afternoon, we have already begun to praise Hashem as its Source. The formula for this praise is the phrase “Mashiv haruach u’morid hageshem” – acknowledging Hashem as the One Who makes the wind blow and makes the rain descend. These two supplements not only signify how central H2O is to our physical survival, and how its marvelous delivery system, namely the wind, transports, arranges and affects the climate for the entire planet.
Water is the source of life. Man cannot live long without it. Whether it reaches us from underground springs and rivers, or as rain falling from the clouds, it sustains us and waters our crops. Today, we are fortunate to have water piped into our homes and naturally take it for granted! We should count our blessings with a broad smile when we recall that water was not always so plentiful.
To this day, Eretz Yisroel’s water situation faces a constant battle for survival. Rain falls only during the winter months and until the end of the 19th century, it was stored in cisterns for use during the long, dry summer months. Should the winter rains fall late or not at all, a drought year could be the cause of famine, starvation and death, R’l.
In the mid-1600s, there was a serious drought in Yerushalayim. One by one the winter months came and went, yet the skies remained as clear and pure blue as on a pleasant summer day. The earth was dry and cracked in the unyielding gardens and fields, and the water level of the cisterns was dropping at an alarming rate. Winter was nearly over, and the weather was turning warm. The threat to the crops posed a serious problem, but the dry drinking wells posed a much greater dilemma. Indeed, the situation had reached critical proportions – even the elders of the city couldn’t recall such a rainless year as this.
Jerusalemites of all faiths turned to prayer. Special services were conducted in the mosques and churches. Of course, the Yidden davened as well, turning to Hashem in their shuls, by the Kosel HaMaaravi, at the kever of Dovid HaMelech on Har Tzion, and even making the trek to the kever of Rochel Imeinu near Beis Lechem. Still the sky remained clear. The heavens remained sealed.
Jews, Moslems and Christians alike became increasingly worried. All the worries generated a stream of rumors, and the rumors in turn led to increased tension between the different ethnic groups in the holy city. The Arabs started to blame the Jews for the lack of rain. This obvious choice of scapegoat required no accompanying reason or explanation for its acceptance to quickly spread throughout the Muslim community, and quickly became an absolute certainty in all their minds.
The instigation against the Jews eventually reached the palace of the pasha, the governor, of the Yerushalayim district of the Ottoman empire. Soon thereafter, the pasha summoned the famed Rav and Kabbalist, R’ Moshe Galante, to appear before him. (Rab Moshe (ben Yonasan) Galante had moved from Tzfas to Yerushalayim around 1655 and was the grandson of Rav Moshe (ben Mordechai) Galante who was one of the four Rabbanim of Tzfas – along with Rav Yosef Caro – to receive semicha from Rab Yaakov Beirav in the ‘renewal of semicha’ controversy.)
“You are the guilty ones!” the pasha lashed out as he pointed to the Chief Rabbi. “The Jews of the city have cursed their gentile neighbors. That’s why the rains have failed to come.”
Rav Galante stood in silence. The pasha’s authority allowed him to imprison whomever he wished, and even to put his enemies to death.
“You claim to be the chosen people. If so, when you beseech G-d in time of need, He should answer you. So, I am warning you. If it doesn’t rain by the end of three days, it will be clear that it is all the fault of the Jews and I shall expel every single one of you from Jerusalem!”
As soon as Rav Galante left the palace, he called an emergency gathering in the main shul, emphasizing that all the Jewish residents of Yerushalayim should attend. Everybody came. Their faces reflected their worry over the situation. Rav Galante declared a three-day fast, with the days to be spent in Tefillah and pleading before Hashem, in the hope of abolishing the evil decree.
With broken hearts and flowing tears, they crowded together in the shuls to recite Tehillim and pray for mercy from Above. One day passed, and a second. On the third day the skies were as blue and cloudless as ever. Dread descended into their hearts. The sun marched inexorably across the sky, and now stood in the western sector of the sky. The final hours of the afternoon were slowly dwindling. Time was running out.
Rabbi Galante announced that everyone should proceed together outside the city walls to the kever of Shimon HaTzaddik (whose yahrtzeit is today, the 29th of Tishrei), and once there to pray one last time for rain. He also made another demand that startled all those present.
“No one should forget to wear their winter rain coats! Come with your boots on your feet and umbrellas in hand! If you don’t, you will get drenched!”
Everyone quickly hurried home to put on boots, heavy winter coats, scarves, and rain hats. Soon, hundreds of Jews marched through the city towards the Damascus Gate.
When the Turkish sentry saw the assembly dressed for a downpour, he burst out laughing and mocked them. But then, when he heard they were doing this only because their rabbi had ordered them and promised them a heavy rainstorm, he became furious. He caught up to Rav Galante, slapped him severely in the face, and screamed: “The people of the city are suffering so much, and you dare to waste their time and strength in such foolishness!”
Rav Galante just kept walking in silence. Outside the gate, the group turned to the right and followed the dirt road through Yehoshafat Valley until they came to the cave of Shimon HaTzaddik. Without a word, Rav Galante fell on his knees and kissed the grave stone. Everyone poured out supplications to Hashem from the depths of their hearts. The Rav whispered prayers with tears rolling down his beard. The sounds of weeping and wailing bounced off the rocks of the cave walls. The echoes spiraled out of the cave and into the parched sky…
Suddenly, they realized that a breeze was blowing – a soft, gentle breeze, but still… a breeze! Then, rather quickly, the breeze became a real wind, which began to blow furiously. A few raindrops were felt. Then it began to drizzle, and soon after that it began to pour! They quickly opened their umbrellas. In no time at all, they were in the midst of a torrential downpour! The exuberant Yidden danced for joy, but Rav Galante remained deep in prayer. The deluge increased in intensity until streams of water flowed down the valley.
The Yidden proclaimed, וַאֲנִי בְּחַסְדְּךָ בָטַחְתִּי יָגֵל לִבִּי בִּישׁוּעָתֶךָ – My enemies think that there is no one to save me, but I trust in Your infinite kindness, my heart will rejoice in Your salvation. אָשִׁירָה לְהַשֵּׁם כִּי גָמַל עָלָי – I will sing to Hashem because he has dealt kindly with me (Tehillim 13:6)!
As the Jews rejoiced, the Turkish sentry, breathless and soaked through and through, descended into the cave. He fell at the feet of Rav Galante and begged to be forgiven. In order to display his sincerity and make amends, he lifted the rabbi onto his shoulders, marched with him at the head of the procession back to town, and carried him all the way to the door of his house.
For three consecutive days the rains fell, and for three consecutive days the people of Yerushalayim were ecstatic. On the fourth day, the Turkish sentry entered Rav Galante’s house. The miracle he had witnessed had been absorbed into his very flesh and bones. He asked to convert to the faith whose G-d performs open miracles, and was accepted. He became Rav Galante’s personal shamash for the rest of his life.
Here in Eretz Yisroel, we have a unique vantage point when it comes to one of the most open exhibits of Hashem’s hashgacha. To have Shemitah come to an end and to see the giborei koach – our gallant farmers, each one a champion of emunah and bitachon – being paraded around the country as the heroes they truly are, sought after by both young and old for a handshake and a bracha… what a sight to behold!
So, as you can see, today’s song is a result of an assortment of inspiration. Va’ani B’chasdecha was composed by the legendary ba’al menagen and educator R’ Baruch Chait, and was first recorded and sung by Chaim Schwartz and Yehuda Schnall on Kol Salonika – V’samachta back in 1989. As he does with so many of his songs, R’ Chait first taught the tune to his talmidim in Ma’arava Machon Rubin. Once the niggun caught on and gained traction, it was then recorded and released for the world to enjoy.
However, how it came to be recorded on the album below is what I would say gave this song its wings.
It was a winter day in 1988. While driving down Rechov Malchei Yisroel towards Me’ah She’arim in Geula, Mordechai Ben David stopped for a traffic jam and noticed a young boy across the road staring at him. Walking straight up to his window he asked, “Are you MBD?” Before he could say yes, the boy continued, “my best friend is in the hospital with the terrible sickness. You must come visit him! You’ll have the biggest mitzvah! He loves your music!”
It was an offer he couldn’t refuse.
The next morning at 8 AM, the boy was knocking at MBD’s hotel room. When they arrived at Hadassah, it was the first day after six weeks in quarantine, and Menachem was being taken out on a wheelchair for some fresh air with a mask covering his mouth.
He was overjoyed to see his guest. They took some pictures and spoke for a while. It was the beginning of a very unique relationship. Menachem was always surrounded by many friends and neighbors who always came around to help in every way possible. The boys from the neighboring yeshiva, Yeshivas Ateres Yisroel, in Bayit VeGan would always come around to study, to play, to sing, or whatever would lift the spirits of the Erental family. Mordechai joined the Erental family on multiple occasions for their special melava malkas. They would sing and dance for many hours.
R’ Baruch Chait was one of the special people who came and entertained every Motzoei Shabbos without fail. He also composed several custom-made songs at Menachem’s bedside (some of which were featured on this concert album).
The life, and subsequent passing of 15-year-old Menachem Erental a’h, on Erev Pesach 1990 spurred his family to form a nonprofit organization called “Zichron Menachem” to help the unfortunate children and their families who are stricken by the dreaded illness. A fundraising concert was held at Yerushalayim’s Binyanei Ha’umah and starred MBD, Avraham Fried, and Michoel Streicher. Both the concert and the Live in Yerushalayim album recording were smashing successes, immediately becoming the new gold standard in Jewish recorded concert events.
Wishing all of you a gut Chodesh Marcheshvan and may Hashem answer all of our tefillos l’tovah!
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