Rachamana D’Aney

During the High Holy Days season, my synagogue—and many synagogues around the world—sing Rachamana D’Aney, a heart-wrenching plea to the Almighty.

Miriams Tanz, Miniatur aus dem bulgarischen Tomić Psalter, Tarnovo literary and art school. Created 1360/63.  Historisches Museum Moskau, Moskau, Russland.  Source/Photographer Scan: Atanas Boschkov, Julian Tomanov (Aufnahmen): Die bulgarische Malerei : von den Anfängen bis zum 19. Jahrhundert, Recklinghausen : Bongers, 1969.  Wikipedia Commons.  Public Domain.  

Rachamana d’aney
D’aney la’aniyey
Aneyna!
O Merciful One, who answers those in need, answer us!

Rachamana d’aney
Lit’virey liba
Aneyna! Aneyna!
O Merciful One, who answers the brokenhearted, answer us! Answer us!

It’s traditionally sung at Selichot (the Shabbat service before Rosh Hashanah) and again as the gates close in Neilah (the end of Yom Kippur) but there’s no reason why it can’t be used at other times, especially when facing collective grief. I can not imagine a more fitting prayer for the Hebrew slaves of Egypt to sing as they begin to have hope of leaving their misery behind.

Unfortunately, they didn’t. The song is in Aramaic, so it can’t possibly be old enough. The Jews spoke Canaanite when in Egypt (or at the assumed time they were there), the language which eventually split into several, including Hebrew. Aramaic (a newer language, also derived from Canaanite) replaced Hebrew as the native language of many Jews in the 6th century BCE, about 800 years later than (one of the possible times for) the Exodus.

Including this prayer that I love so deeply is one of the deliberate anachronisms of The Boat Children.

I also bring to the chapter elements from a Chassidic story no more than 300 years old.

Once the Baal Shem Tov commanded Rabbi Zev Kitzes to learn the secret meanings behind the blasts of the ram’s-horn, because Rabbi Zev was to be his caller on Rosh Ha-Shanah. So Rabbi Zev learned the secret meanings and wrote them down on a slip of paper to look at during the service, and laid the slip of paper in his bosom. When the time came for the blowing of the ram’s-horn, he began to search everywhere for the slip of paper, but it was gone; and he did not know on what meanings to concentrate. He was greatly saddened. Broken-hearted, he wept bitter tears, and called the blasts of the ram’s-horn without concentrating on the secret meanings behind them.

Afterward, the Baal Shem Tov said to him: “Lo, in the habitation of the king are to be found many rooms and apartments, and there are different keys for every lock, but the master key of all is the axe, with which it is possible to open all the locks on all the gates. So it is with the ram’s-horn: the secret meanings are the keys; every gate has another meaning, but the master key is the broken heart. When a man truthfully breaks his heart before God, he can enter into all the gates of the apartments of the King above all Kings, the Holy One, blessed be He.”

Or Yesharim. From Tales of the Hasidim, collected by Martin Buber, copyright 1947. Schocken Books.

It is the very brokenness that catches God’s attention. Prayers that come from the deepest reaches of the heart. A most lovely teaching on this topic comes from my synagogue’s Rabbi. Most of the story is a retelling of the one above.

Reb Kitzes began to apologize for failing at his task. But the Baal Shem Tov interrupted, “No, you don’t understand. You didn’t fail. You see, God’s palace has many doors. And each door has its own unique key. But there is one key that opens every door: the axe. And the axe is the broken heart. You played the shofar with your broken heart and every door of God’s palace burst open. And all of our prayers ascended and entered.”

First Jewish Lesson: Blessings of a Broken Heart.  September 20, 2016.  Rabbi Irwin Keller.  Itzik’s Well.

Imagine the Jews, still slaves in Egypt. Moses has returned, bringing with him not only hope, but Pharaoh’s wrath. Their back-breaking labor grew even worse. Moses and Aaron have gone to Pharaoh again and again and God has, so far, unleashed 9 plagues, each more horrible than the last. Now they call to the Merciful One to guide them to a better life. But first, Adonai must hear them. God must answer.

My synagogue’s rendition of the prayer is simple. A drum and voices. This version has only one voice but, at High Holy Days, there are over one hundred.

References:

  • Or Yesharim. From Tales of the Hasidim, collected by Martin Buber, copyright 1947. Schocken Books.
  • First Jewish Lesson: Blessings of a Broken Heart.  September 20, 2016.  Rabbi Irwin Keller.  Itzik’s Well.
  • Rachamana D’Aney. Video. 2009. Ner Shalom YouTube channel. This plea for heaven’s attention is sung at Selichot and again as the gates close in Neilah. “Answer us!” it shouts in Aramaic, to a Chasidic melody with a very eastern flavor. Here it is, once slow for learning, then up tempo. Sung here by Reb Irwin.
  • Raḥamana d’anei.  07/01/2001.  Milken Archive of Jewish Music: Volume 14: Golden Voices in the Golden Land.  Liner notes by Neil W. Levin.  Composer Zavel Zilberts.
  • Answer us.  August 31, 2010.  Rabbi Rachel Barenblat.  The Velveteen Rabbi.

2 Comments

  1. God Language – Out of Egypt

    May 3, 2020 at 10:09 am

    […] mercy, mother love). A related form is Rachamim, mercy. The Aramaic translation of Rachamim is Rachamana or Merciful One. A popular worship song, and one I use in the […]

  2. Sing! Sing a Song – Out of Egypt

    July 10, 2020 at 6:11 pm

    […] there is Rachamana D’Aney (which has a separate blog post).  This prayer is absolutely too late to be included; it’s not even in Hebrew.  But I include […]

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