Rhyme & reason: The annual Ushpizin Festival returns to Jerusalem

How many of us regularly read or listen to poetry? While there are many who enjoy the work of such feted writers of yore as, say, Wordsworth, Blake, or TS Eliot or, moving into contemporary climes, the likes of Robert Hass, Ocean Vuong, Carol Ann Duffy, or, stepping for a moment beyond the borders of the English-speaking world, Polish writer Julia Fiedorczuk, the vast majority of us probably aren’t frequent consumers of poetry.

“There are things like Keter Malchut,” he notes, referencing the liturgical poem by 11th-century Spanish poet and philosopher Rabbi Shlomo Ibn Gabirol recited primarily by Spanish- and Yemenite-rooted communities in synagogues on Yom Kippur. This, I quickly surmised, relates primarily to observant folk. “People who go to pray read from the Psalms, and there is Kabbalat Shabbat. People who don’t have a single poetry book at home are full of poetry,” he says.

That cheery take on the prominence of poetry in our everyday lives is not surprising coming from a veteran poet, author, and editor who also serves as the perennial artistic director of the poetry-based Ushpizin Festival. This year’s bash takes place, under the continued aegis of Confederation House and its long-serving head Effie Benaya, on October 8-10.

THOSE ARE strong and encouraging words, indeed. Naturally, Shvili follows the same line of thought and has devised a diverse program for the three-dayer across a wide range of themes, styles, and personalities.

“After Oct. 7, Simchat Torah, and the terrible events then, fear is all around us. Regardless of our political views, we are surrounded by enemies. An enemy means fear,” Shvili states. “Politically here, things are scary. The groups within the public with different opinions are moving farther apart, and there has been a rise in messianic beliefs and mythologization of culture. And there is the fear of losing our humaneness.” Clearly, Shvili is of the fully understandable opinion that there is much to set the pulse racing these days, in the worst sense of the term.

But he is quick to point out that this is not a matter of just setting off on a phobic roller-coaster ride into emotional paralysis. There is a crucial survival element there, too. “If you take a look at the word pachad [fear], you also have the letters of dachaf [urge or impulse],” says Shvili, drawing on his literary bent. “Fear is a wonderful defense mechanism. The impulse to fear is a healthy thing, too, as long as you don’t go overboard.”

All that, he says, comes into play in Gouri’s psyche and writing, but not just his. “The idea was to connect with a theme of our lives at this time. There will be poets in the festival program who will read poems about fear, both of Haim Gouri and their own. I presume there will be other poets who will relate to the subject of fear. It could hardly be otherwise. We are human beings, not machines.” As such, we experience emotions of all kinds. Poetry is the ideal vehicle for conveying that.

Therein, according to Shvili, lies the key to appreciating poetry, regardless of the listener’s or reader’s cerebral intake and, possibly, in spite of one’s formal educational backdrop.

“The starting point of many poetry readers is that they need to understand it [the poem]. That is a terrible mistake. That is mostly because of what we were taught in school. You don’t have to understand poems. It’s the same with paintings or musical compositions. You don’t understand them. You need to feel them, or maybe undergo an ecstatic or mystic experience. We may be better off shedding our understanding, and just feeling.”

THERE IS an abundance of opportunities across the three days of the festival to put our gray matter to one side for a while and let our heart roam unfettered. Shvili has also culled some of the titans of Israeli poetry in his programming.

The opening day features a tribute to Russian-born poet and translator Meir Wieseltier, who passed away two years ago at the age of 82. Wieseltier, the man and the poet, tended to speak his mind without overly taxing himself with PC niceties and such. “He was an interesting modern poet,” Shvili explains.

“He moved Israeli poetry more toward the English-American style. That was part of a stream that distanced itself from the German, Polish, and Russian approach. There were others, like Natan Zach. Wieseltier was one of the last of that stream.” Shvili says he had another invaluable string to his bow. “He was also a translator. Poets who also translate have a wealth of sources at their disposal. He was an important poet, who was also a bit elitist.”

Notwithstanding Wieseltier’s move into more Westernized domains, Shvili does not believe that made his work more accessible or inviting to the casual poetry consumer.

“It actually made the poetry less communicative,” he posits. “If you read the works of poets like Leah Goldberg, Bialik, or Dahlia Ravikovitch, you see the themes and structures of the poems are more communicative. But poets like David Avidan and Wieseltier, and even Natan Zach, were connected to the tradition of Israeli poetry, which has been around for something like 200 years.”

Many of the spotlights on particular poets are accompanied by musical entertainment. If you consider that the lyrics of a large part of classic Israeli songs feed off the work of poets, that makes complete sense.

The Wieseltier berth features singer-songwriter Einav Jackson Cohen, with the festival musician roster also including the likes of ethnic-leaning guitarist and saz player Eliyahu Dagmi, who complements a discussion of the work of Rabbi Avraham Yitzhak Kook, while multi-instrumentalist Ittai Binnun appears in the tribute to colorful Russian-born poet Alexander Penn.

The quality musical festival lineup includes Iranian-rooted vocalist Maureen Nehedar, Naor Carmi playing ethnic string instrument tambur, voice artist Victoria Hanna, and genre-leaping pianist Omri Mor.

Hanna and Mor provide the musical complement to the Black Canopy with the Yonatan Ratosh spot on October 8. Ratosh, who was born in Poland and died in Tel Aviv in 1981, was a leading light of the Canaanite movement, which took a more universal, religiously unaligned approach to art and to life in general in the Middle East.

Ratosh was a robust writer, and Shvili feels it is high time he got some latter-day due. “He almost completely disappeared from the Hebrew poetry landscape, so it was important to devote an event to a wonderful poet,” Shvili declares. The base material, the artistic director contends, lends itself to multidisciplinary avenues of expression. “The musical element is very potent in his work, and the pathos. It is more than words. It offers us a more physical bond with Israel. It packs a lot of power.”

I wondered whether the Canaanite school of thought – which, inter alia, sought to bypass religious, ethnic, and political divisions – might have offered a more human and harmonious take on life in these parts.

“That was the initial intent,” Shvili concurs, adding that, philosophy aside, Ratosh’s writing is well worth its place in this year’s festival. “It is good to get to know poetry that has been overlooked for some time. It largely engages in the physical experience, not so much the spiritual side.”

THE MIDDLE day of the festival program will go out with something of a bang, and step outside the confines of Israeli poetry in the process, when Ronny Someck takes the stage to salute the work of veteran American singer-songwriter Tom Waits. Waits is a multi-talented performer who dips into theater and presents his numbers in visually as well as sonically arresting manner.

“Ushpizin is not just a Hebrew poetry festival,” Shvili points out. “I have been into Tom Waits’s work since I was a kid. He is a special character and a wonderful musician.” The pairing with Someck, says Shvili, was natural. “A few years back, at the Poets’ Festival in Metula [also overseen by Confederation House], I saw Ronny at breakfast wearing a Tom Waits T-shirt. I told him we had a common denominator. So, for this festival, I thought I’d take Ronny Someck for the Tom Waits event.”

Someck, an internationally feted poet with a definitively contemporary writing style, was a perfect match. “He’s a rock, even punk rock, and sometimes pop poet,” Shvili chuckles. “He lets his hair down. I thought he’d be great to read from Tom Waits’s work and talk about him.” Keyboardist-singer Hadara Levin-Areddy, who lived in New York for several years, provides the musical entertainment.

Elsewhere in the three-day lineup, there is a spotlight on female poets and the feminine side of Jerusalem, while devotional Sufi poetry features in “I Am Majnun, You Are Layla,” which examines the epic poem about a tragic love affair by 12th-century Persian man of letters Nizami Ganjavi. Nehedar fills the musical spot.

American poet, feminist, and civil rights activist Audre Lorde defined the power of poetry in succinct fashion: “Poetry is not only dream and vision; it is the skeleton architecture of our lives. It lays the foundations for a future of change, a bridge across our fears of what has never been before.” We could all take a line or two out of that. ■