Healing

Neta Elkayam is a multidisciplinary artist, musician and a mother, recognized globally for her North African music performances.

It was in the Camp de transit d’Arenas in Marseille, torn away from our land of origin, our mouths spoke Arabic but Hebrew was in our hearts, heading towards the unknown. Some were there by choice, others motivated by Judaism, the Bible, or a desire to improve their economic situation. We all hoped this would be the great redemption, maybe even the Messiah. In just moments, we were to alight a ship, or a plane, yet here we were in a transit camp, terminus for a culture that had spanned a thousand years.

I want to go back to that moment. Inhabit it. The creaky audio documenting its music. I heard it first at the National Library of Israel, through recordings made by Issachar Ben-Ami z”l, who interviewed immigrants arriving at the camp, either voluntarily as olim, or as war refugees. Each with their own set of beliefs: rabbis alongside secular intellectuals, women from the city and Amazigh grandmothers from the Atlas mountains. Between the fragments of conversation and the piyutim [liturgical hymns] I discovered songs of healing for the female lifecycle: childbirth, wedding, and death.

I want to stop the recording. To linger in that small moment on the axis of time between here and there, perhaps in an attempt to stave off all that my grandmother lost. To prevent such losses for other women like her. To try to change something in that reality before I press “Play” and move on.

Once, they were a tribe. Now she is alone, with her possessions, pots, and children. And while her hands are busy with childrearing, cooking, caring, caressing, and breast-feeding… her mouth mutters endlessly, recalling the melody.

Why do I long so for this female tribe? Is it because now, everything I was raised on is collapsing? Or because that private bereavement from home, which I sensed as a girl, is now the property of tens of thousands? Maybe because I fantasize about belonging to a tribe of female super-heroes who all bear the task of raising the children in their care. Women who stand together, side by side, like a wall protecting against all danger, in complete solidarity, mother to mother, woman to woman.

I have no air to breathe. Words, once more, feel like forced, clumsy cliches for a powerful wave of emotion that threatens to wash away and drown both soul and belief. And even when the words come, they fail in describing, they do not help in understanding.

I listen to the murmurs that issue from the recording. Every hum is an insight. Every sigh a respite. Every chuckle is another puff of air to breathe, an escape route.

And with every obscure word that repeats without meaning, I understand: If this is a world of the written word, then I want to be ignorant, illiterate.

To we women belongs the movement, the wandering, the roar, the jubilation, the moans of childbirth, the cries of pain and loss. Both life and death have a melody.

And I will establish my home and my heart within.

And she will be my healer.

Neta Elkayam, September 2024, New Orleans

Photo by Amit Elkayam

David Fishof is an American music producer, sports agent, and the founder and CEO of Rock ‘n’ Roll Fantasy Camp. Born in New York City, he has authored three books, Putting It on the Line, a book about his experiences in the world of sports and entertainment, Rock Your Business: What You and Your Company Can Learn From the Business of Rock and Roll, and Rock Camp, an Oral History: 25 Years of the Rock ‘n’ Roll Fantasy Camp.

As the owner of Rock n Roll Fantasy Camp, I have witnessed first hand the profound impact that music can have on the human spirit. Our camp provides a unique opportunity for adults to jam and perform live with legendary rock stars from some of the biggest bands in history. Over the years, I’ve had the honor of working with iconic acts like Ringo Starr and His All-Starr Band, The Monkees and many others. Through these experiences, I’ve come to understand that music is far more than entertainment—it is a powerful force for healing.

This truth became even more poignant for me after visiting the devastation sites following the horrific attacks of October 7. In December, I attended the funeral of Yotam Haim, one of the three hostages accidentally killed by the IDF in a tragic case of mistaken identity. During the service, Yotam’s brother, Tuval, performed a moving 10-minute drum solo on Yotam’s own drum set, set up by the gravesite. As Tuval’s rhythms echoed through the air, their father, in a symbolic gesture, threw the drumsticks into the grave—a moment that was as heartbreaking as it was beautiful.

That deeply emotional experience inspired me to take action. I decided to invite Tuval and nine other Israeli musicians, all personally affected by the trauma of October 7, to my Rock n Roll Fantasy Camp in Los Angeles in March 2024. My hope was that through music, they could begin to heal, even if just a little, from the pain they carried with them.

Over the course of five days, these ten Israeli musicians had the chance to jam alongside members of legendary bands like Van Halen and Whitesnake. I watched as the healing power of music unfolded before my eyes. Through the shared experience of playing and creating, they found hope and a renewal of passion for life. One survivor captured the essence of it all when he said, “We don’t need therapists; I need my guitar.”

Music has a unique ability to touch the soul in ways words cannot. Whether listening or playing, it provides a path to recovery, a way to process emotions, and a means to reconnect with joy. The transformative experiences I’ve witnessed at Rock n Roll Fantasy Camp are a testament to music’s extraordinary capacity to heal and uplift, even in the face of unimaginable pain.

Yechezkel Rachamim is a writer, poet, and editor. He is an alum of the National Library of Israel’s Pardes fellowship for writers. He is the author of The Distance Trilogy which includes three poetry collections: Now the Journey, The Ink of Distance, and The Entire Sky (2016, 2018, 2023; Pardes). He has been awarded, inter alia, the Prime Minister’s Prize for Hebrew Literary Works, ACUM’s Shlomo Tanny Encouragement Award, and an honorary mention for the Nechama Rivlin Memorial Dr. Simon Gardner Award for Hebrew Poetry.

Because I saw myself

in my helplessness

and had much too much of myself

Here I am getting up. Here I am

getting up and rising from the mud.

Here I am on the way to losing

my crouch.

Translation by Sheryl Abbey

The Primary Sincerity Is the Willingness to See

Observing the other is easy and immediate, and considering the external can be pleasant – but the seed of deep growth is hidden in introspection. As easy and tempting as it is to send our gaze searching for beauty, for splendor, or for the affected adornment, the seed of deep growth is in the insightful discovery of that which is defective, conditional, or vainglorious – noting our own incapacity, in the world and the mind.

The passing year began with a horrific rent, a rent in universal time as well as in Jewish time; a rent after which every day that follows can only be the day after. The introspective gaze searches for whatever needs identification and repair, and tells us to hold on to this gaping wound slashed into the body of our nation, to keep it close and accessible, and to consult with it often. We must turn to it as we leave, God willing, the valley of the shadow of death to walk the paths of salvation and consolation; and also on other days, the regular days, that are still to come.

The passing year should be a powerful summons for us to find the best combination of humility and courage, courage and humility. May the wisdom of the abyss accompany and enlighten us also on the paths of betterment, encouragement, healing, and rejoicing, which are yet to grace us.

The Lord gives strength to his people; the Lord blesses his people with peace.