Re: Hatikvah

[Sam Weiss <samweiss...>]

Hope Ehn <ehn (at) world(dot)std(dot)com> wrote:

         >On Thu, 3 May 2001, Sam Weiss wrote:
         >> Imber had nothing to do with the tune.
    
     >I never claimed that Imber *wrote* the tune. But Imber not only 
    wrote the
     >words, but apparently also chose the tune for them. Therefore, 
    while he
     >didn't write the tune, he is responsible for the combination of 
    words and
     >tune. I wouldn't exactly call that "nothing to do with the tune."
     >It is unfortunate that some Internet users will take any excuse to be
     >petty at someone else's expense.


I was not being petty at all; I was trying to correct your information. 
According to my own research not only didn't Imber write the tune, and 
not choose the tune, he also
= had nothing to do with the tune =. You may be right; I may be right. 
My remark was too pithy (and I therefore take no offense at your 
charge), but I was definitely not being petty.

_________________________________________________________
Cantor Sam Weiss === Jewish Community Center of Paramus, NJ

.............................................................................

Bob Weiner asked for information on the history of the matching of the 
tune to the words. I came across this at 
http://jewishsf.com/bk980605/supphow.htm.

June 5, 1998

HOW 'HATIKVAH' BECAME ISRAEL'S NATIONAL ANTHEM BY DEFAULT

By Carl Schrag

Jerusalem Post Service

"Hatikvah" has been around for more than 100 years, outlasting many 
challengers. Interestingly, though, nobody ever actually chose 
"Hatikvah" as Israel's national anthem. The state inherited it, if you 
will, along with all sorts of other treasures of the Zionist movement. 
The elites haven't always liked it, but the public has embraced it 
wholeheartedly.

There's no shortage of people who say the anthem's time has passed. It's 
done its deed, served its purpose, and should be replaced with something 
more appropriate, they insist.

Heresy! How dare anyone challenge "Hatikvah"? Even Zubin Mehta has 
called it the most beautiful anthem on earth.

Maybe so, but is it the most appropriate anthem for the state of Israel?

Set aside for a moment the fact that nearly a fifth of Israeli citizens 
never dreamed of a return to Zion. The overwhelming majority, it could 
be argued, did hold onto that hope throughout centuries of exile.

But the exile has ended. The dream became reality 46 years ago. Should 
we be looking back, or should we look forward?

The question is a minefield, and we won't try to answer it here. Just 
remember that over the years there have been efforts to change the 
anthem. It even came up in the Knesset once.

In 1967, Knesset member Uri Avneri tabled a bill that would have made 
Naomi Shemer's "Jerusalem of Gold" the anthem. It never even went to 
committee. Today, Avneri says, Shxemer's song has been hijacked by the 
right, making it inappropriate as an anthem for the state of Israel. He 
would like to see a songwriting contest, with the best and the brightest 
submitting original compositions. Sort of like Eurovision, only more 
serious.

It all began in Eastern Europe, you could say. Not an inappropriate 
place to begin a story about something that has been criticized as 
reeking of diaspora life.

"Hatikvah" is the fruit of the pen of Naphtali Herz Imber, a wandering 
Jewish poet who was born in Galicia in 1855 or 1856. Before he died in 
New York in 1909, he had managed to travel throughout Europe, Palestine, 
Britain and the United States. Everywhere he went, he wrote poetry, 
recited his poems to anyone who would listen, drank with hearty thirst 
and remained devoted to the nascent cause of Zionism.

In fact, Imber saw himself -- not Theodor Herzl -- as the true spiritual 
father of Zionism. In one letter he wrote, "I am the origin of the 
Zionist movement. It is not generally known, but I am. Many years ago I 
went to Jerusalem, saw the misery of my people, felt the spirit of the 
place and determined to bring my scattered people again together. For 12 
years, I struggled to put the Zionist movement on foot. Now that I have 
started it, I will let others carry it on and get the glory."

Imber's Hebrew poems did kindle a spark for many Jews. He wrote about 
Rishon LeZion, the Jordan River, Hovevei Zion, and other themes and 
places in Palestine. But his most famous poem was and remains 
"Tikvatenu," which he first penned in Iasi, Romania.

In 1877, the 22-year-old Imber was living with Moshe Waldberg, a former 
Galician talmudist-turned-successful-attorney in Iasi. Waldberg had two 
sons, and according to the biography of Imber written by his daughter, 
Ethel Lithman, the three young men got along famously. Under the 
influence of his dear friends, Imber penned "Tikvatenu." It was the 
beginning of an anthem.

In 1882, Imber traveled to Palestine along with his mentor, Laurence 
Oliphant. During his years in Palestine, Imber traveled around the 
various Jewish communities and colonies, carrying copies of his poems at 
all times. When invited into people's homes, the story goes, he wasted 
no time before getting down to the serious business of drinking. Once he 
was adequately inebriated, he would begin to recite his poems to his hosts.

Those encounters so inspired the young man that he would often scribble 
new stanzas on scraps of paper. That continued until "Tikvatenu" had 
nine stanzas.

The melody also has its own story. Imber wrote a poem without music. 
Various attempts were made to set it to music. The first, apparently, 
was done by a composer named Leon Igly. He had been brought to Zichron 
Ya'acov by Baron Edmond de Rothschild for the express purpose of 
learning farming. He tried to learn, but didn't like it, so a Rothschild 
aide gave him a room in Rishon LeZion and handed him a copy of Imber's 
book of Hebrew poetry, Barkai (Morning Star).

Igly immediately turned to "Tikvatenu," in its nine-verse version. In 
what he certainly thought was a stroke of creative genius, Igly wrote a 
different tune for each stanza.

Teaching the public to sing the unofficial anthem was so difficult that 
children who succeeded in getting through all nine verses used to get a 
prize of chocolate. But all the chocolate in the world couldn't make 
Igly's masterpiece catch on. He returned to Russia, and the melody was lost.

Soon thereafter, a new melody emerged in Rishon LeZion, the melody Jews 
all over will probably be singing on Independence Day. Where did it come 
from? Some trace it to "The Bohemian Symphony," by the Czech composer 
Smetana, but others say it is based on the Sephardic melody for Psalm 
117 in the Hallel service. Still others say it bears a striking 
resemblance to a Romanian folk song.

"Tikvatenu" got a real boost back in 1890, when Rehovot was established. 
Each new Jewish community in Eretz Yisrael chose a song or poem, and the 
people who were building Rehovot chose "Tikvatenu."

When Herzl visited Rehovot in 1898, he was greeted by a crowd singing 
the song, which had attained the importance of a national anthem as well 
as a work song.

"Hatikvah" caught on quickly. Although it was not chosen as the official 
anthem of the Zionist movement until the 1933 Zionist Congress, it was 
sung for decades before that date.

That doesn't mean everyone accepted it. As early as 1886, the Russian 
Bnei Zion held a contest to choose a Zionist hymn. The winner: "On the 
Hills of Zion," by M.M. Dolitzky. Don't feel bad if you haven't heard of 
it; few have.

In 1893, the Galician Agudat Zion chose "Dort Vu Die Tzeder," by Yitzhak 
Peled, as the Zionist anthem. It caught on, and for years was a strong 
challenger to "Hatikvah."

Just before the First Zionist Congress in Basel in 1897, Herzl and Max 
Nordau decided to hold a contest to choose a hymn. They got 45 entries. 
They were such a bad crop of songs that Herzl ordered them destroyed, 
and he canceled the contest.

During the Mandate, the British banned "Hatikvah" from the airwaves, so 
the broadcasters played a section of Smetana's work instead. The British 
responded by banning his music from Hebrew broadcasts.

In 1948, "Hatikvah" became the new country's national anthem, by 
default. Nobody had a better idea.

Copyright Notice (c) 1998, San Francisco Jewish Community Publications 
Inc., dba Jewish Bulletin of Northern California. All rights reserved. 
This material may not be reproduced in any form without permission.


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