Longing for Sefarad in the Velada, The ‘Watch’ of Shavuot
More than on any other Jewish holiday, when Shavuot approaches, I hear ancestral sighs from places so distant where dreams have stalled and pushed through the cracks. Where longing for Sepharad was passed on from one to the other, generally from woman to woman. Where there are remembrances of pungent oils released from herbs crushed between fingers. Where recollection wafts delicious from kitchens or a cork popped. Where ancestral covenants, promises, and agreements, still woven one with the other, continue to stir up imagination and yearning.
All the more so as we approach Shavuot. From the moment when three stars of the night herald Erev Shavuot, clusters gather to study Torah and Zohar into the wee hours of the morning in a practice known as Tikkun Leil Shavuot, a night for both “correction” and “adornment.” “Correction” comes from learning Oral Torah. Some say that this was an effort to repair the error of the Israelites noted in the Midrash, that despite declarations of “Naaseh V’nishma”, “We will do and will hear”, the Israelites overslept through the giving of the Torah and had to be awakened.
For those who trace lineage, language, stories of the kishkes, and ancestral call to the Iberian peninsula, it is of interest to unravel Tikkun Leil Shavuot through the prism of the Sefardi Shavuot known as the Velada (from the Ladino word “to guard, watch”). The night Velada flows into the next afternoon, when Megillat Ruth is read, the archetype narrative for the individual who chooses to stay, join with the people Israel, and accept Torah. In the Ladino translation, Naomi says:
“For wherever you go, I will go; where you sleep, I will sleep,
Your people shall be my people and your God my God”
Azharot, the rhyming enumeration of the 613 mitzvot or commandments, is read after the Musaf service of the morning, or just before the Mincha service. As it begins, “You gave your people a preliminary warning or admonition, Azharah reshit l’amekha natata, so is this liturgical poem named Azharot. According to tradition, Torah lists 613 mitzvot: 248 positive commandments and 365 negative commandments. In Sephardic custom, these commandments have been enumerated in verse form by different poets. The Western Sefardi custom is to read the version of Azharot written by Solomon ibn Gabirol (1020-1069) with an introduction by David Eleazar ibn Paquda, a Spanish Hebrew poet from the first half of the 12th century. Over the course of the two days of Shavuot, the first half, the 248 positive commandments, is read on Day 1 while the second half, the 365 negative commandments, is read on the second day. Although there is disagreement over Ibn Gabirol’s rendering of the mitzvot because they did not hew to the Rambam’s, nevertheless, it is the Ibn Gabirol version that the Sefardi Jews chant. The people chose the rhythms and embellishments made by the paytanim, the liturgicals poets, over the rationale of halakhists! Azharot are not just read or chanted. They are taught and re-taught, with each reader breathing new life into the mitzvot. How can we deepen our understanding of the mitzvot through this poetic form? Take the readings into your homes as has been done in the past! Chew them and chew them again. Turn and turn them over.
Shavuot, being the anniversary of the giving of the Torah, Zman matan torateinu, represents the mystical aspect of the revelation at Mount Sinai, when G!d and the Jewish people came together. This sacred connection is expressed in the metaphor of marriage, based upon the prophecy of Hosea 2:21-22:
“I will betroth you unto Me forever. Yes, I will betroth you unto Me in righteousness, and in justice, and in lovingkindness, and in compassion.
And I will betroth you unto Me in faithfulness, and you shall know the Lord.”
This covenant is crafted into a wedding contract, inspired by the words of the Prophet Jeremiah 31:30: “I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel.” The Mishna Taanit 26B comments that the wedding day of King Solomon (Shir HaShirim 3:11) refers to the giving of the Torah. Ladino speakers lift up the theme of marriage with the chanting of La Ketubah de la Ley, a kompla or rhymed poem from the 18th century by Rabbi Yehudah Leon Kalai. Through the text, we learn that the moment of receiving the Torah at Mount Sinai was a marriage contract between the Jewish people and The Holy One, very much like a ketubah today: the document that a bridegroom presents to a bride just before the marriage ceremony, sealing the union while specifying the conditions agreed by the two parties.
It is fitting to praise the G!d of greatness and of might She carried with her the dowry that she brought from her father’s house 613 commandments shall be affirmed day and night For the groom to fulfill and to keep On the Sabbath day, the Jews received the Law (Torah) from G!d’s hand On the sixth of Sivan, the third month, when Israel fled from Egypt In the year 2448 when the world was created
Over and above the liturgical poetry, a longing for Sefarad comes along with memories of promenades in endless gardens, where families would sit under the trees enjoying food and drink like Nahmias’ raki, the anise-flavored drink ouzo from Salonica. And there was “pan de siete cielos” - the bread of seven heavens that was consumed on the night time of study. And whatever was left made it to the family outing! How does one make “pan de siete cielos”? Milk, eggs, butter, anise liquor, and sugar combine in a mound of dough, the centerpiece which stood for Mount Sinai where Moses and the people received Torah. Around this mound, one built seven ropes of dough for seven celestial spheres. Decorations on top of the seven rungs included the Hamza, Jacob’s Ladder, Tablets of Torah, a Magen David, even a serpent symbolizing the moment of kvetching by the people.
“And the people spoke against God and against Moses, ‘Why did you make us leave Egypt to die in the wilderness? There is no bread and no water, and we have come to loathe this miserable food.’ The Lord sent seraph serpents against the people. They bit the people and many of the Israelites died. The people came to Moses and said, ‘We sinned by speaking against the LORD and against you. Intercede with the LORD to take away the serpents from us!’ And Moses interceded for the people. Then the LORD said to Moses, ‘Make a seraph figure and mount it on a standard. And if anyone who is bitten looks at it, he shall recover.”
Moses made a copper serpent and mounted it on a standard; and when anyone was bitten by a serpent, he would look at the copper serpent and recover.” And there are the women: mothers, grandmothers, and endless Tia’s (aunts) singing, rocking side to side, pitting memory one against the other. They unleash yearning through pungent oils and psalmodic cantillations from teachers long gone. More than on any other Jewish holiday, when the Velada of Shavuot approaches, I hear ancestral sighs.
