Commemoration, 26th January 2009

Last night I found myself sat in the auditorium of Unesco for a commemoration marking the international day in memory of victims of the Holocaust. Aline and Sabine had managed, heaven knows how, to get tickets and I’m so glad they did. Sabine was singing in the choir (Choeur de l’Orchestre de Paris) and I sat with Aline, Katya and Frederic in the audience, profoundly moved, for more than three hours.

The most moving evening unfurled before our eyes. We, at least, were silent. Shame other members of the audience couldn’t show the same respect and behave in a way fitting for such an occasion. Squeaky seats, whispering, sometimes even full blown conversation, late arrivals, early departures…at one point it was more like a train station than a concert hall up on our balcony. Aline and I simmered with fury and indignation. I wonder what these rude people bothered to come for. To be seen? Because they had nothing better to do? To read their newspaper? Eat sweets in rustly wrappers?

The evening began with a Hebrew song, ‘Mimâamakym’ performed beautifully by the Choeur de l’Armée française conducted by Captain Emilie Fleury. Lovely harmonies, very emotional prelude to this profound event.

Star-studded speeches continued the evening: Koïchiro Matsuura (DG of Unesco), David Kornbluth (Ambassador of Israel for Unesco), Professor Tamir (minister of education in Israel), Xavier Darcos (the same in France), Patrick de Carolis (president of France Television), the wonderful Simone Veil and finally Robert Badinter.

Simone Veil…what an incredible lady she is. I thought she looked much more fragile than usual for she was helped up the steps to the stage and back down again. Her speech was elegant, dignified. Her memories of the Marche des Etoiles. Her subject: what are we commemorating? The liberation of the camps? The end of the Marche des Etoiles? Those who fell victim? Those who survived? She descended the steps to standing ovasion throughout the whole auditorium.

The highlight, if one can use such a term, was Leonard Bernstein’s 3^rd symphony ‘Kaddische’ performed by the Choeur de l’Orchestre de Paris and narrated with a text by Samuel Pisar. Overwhelming. 

Bernstein wrote his third symphony in 1963, commissioned by the Koussevitzsky Foundation and the Philharmonic Orchestra of Boston for its 75^th birthday. He was composing the final fugue when JFK was shot dead, and thus dedicated his work to the assassinated president. It was performed a month later conducted by Charles Munch and was subject of contrasting critics.

The term ‘Kaddische’ as most of you know refers to the Jewish prayer sung at liturgy. Even though it is a prayer for the dead it is better described as a dialogue between God and man, a traditional exchange in the Jewish faith, which resonnates a cry for peace. Very meaningful when one thinks of the recent happenings, dreadful happenings in Gaza. I thought as much of those victims as those of 60 years ago. The prose added and recited by Samuel Pisa, bless his heart, sticks to the Kaddische prayer and is seconded by a beautiful soprano solo, the mixed choir and the Maitrise in Aramean.

The text written and recited by Samuel Pisa was commissioned by Leonard Bernstein himself. It reaffirms a thirst for setting down roots, a desire for home, to belong. Samuel Pisa was a Holocaust survivor and profoundly marked by the events of 9/11. He wrote his secular Kaddische in hommage to the composer and the ancestry of judaism while confronting contemporary history. It is a Kaddische for victims of the world, not only those of Jewish birth:

‘Mine is a layman’s kaddische, Father,

Contemporary, universal and dedicated

To Your tormented children:

Jews, Christians, Muslims, Hindus and all others

- Believers and non-believers -

Yearning for peace, freedom and justice

In our chaotic, fratricidal and suicidal world’

It’s a monumental work in three parts with seven movements and was superbly conducted by John Axelrod. The choir made me swell with pride and Samuel Pisa made me cry. What more can I say? With instrumentation somewhere between Berg, Mahler, Stravinsky and Schönberg both violent and tender, diatonic and melodic, this Kaddische expressed all the pain of the world.

It ends with a powerful finale:

‘Thus O great God of Abraham,

It is with respect for the beliefs of all,

And with malice to none,

That I bow toward eternal Jerusalem,

Its synagogues, churches and mosques,

Its wailing wall and shrine of Yad Vashem,

To sing for You my fervent prayer of hope

Drawn from blood.

Bond with us again, Lord.

Guide us towards reconciliation, tolerance,

And peace

On this small, divided, fragile planet

-         our common home.’

For anyone who has survived the collapse of his world wherever it may be or have been: my beloved Roumania, Germany, Poland, Palestine, Cambodia, the Balkans, Rwanda, Darfur, Afghanistan, Iraq… this is a transmission of very private memories of the past, a meditation on the present and a premonition of the future. It is both emotionally devastating and musically exultant. An incredible work, beautifully accompanied by a deep and thoughtful prose that moved me to such an extent that I ran home unable to speak.