By Adira Rosen
BOSTON — If a tree falls in the forest does it even make a sound? So too if Torah is read without any additional commentary, is it even Torah? For generations Torah has been a major springboard for discussion. It is rare, in the Jewish tradition, to study Torah stam (all by itself). Torah study is, more often than not, accompanied by hevrutot (learning partners) both in person and on the page. Some of the greatest partners in Torah study are called the mefarshim (commentators on the Torah). Perhaps you’ve heard of Rashi and Ramban, maybe even Sforno and Ibn Ezra. But have you heard of Stephen Schwartz? Unlike Rashi and the Ramban who were writing their commentaries on the Torah approximately ten centuries ago, Torah commentary is still a live and active art form that has sparked the interest of Rabbis and laypeople alike. Stephen Schwartz is one such commentator.
Stephen Schwartz is best known for his hit Broadway musical Wicked, which took New York City by storm in 2003 and has since claimed international renown. However, with a Broadway great like Schwartz, it is best to start in the beginning. Schwartz, a self-described “Long Island Jewish boy,” spent his high school days commuting into New
York City to study “piano and composition at the Juilliard School of Music.” In 1968 he went on to receive his B.F.A. in Drama at the Carnegie Mellon University School of Drama. While at Carnegie Mellon he began to develop his first original musical, Pippin.
Shortly after graduation Schwartz wrote the music and lyrics for the musical Godspell, largely inspired by the New Testament Gospel of St. Matthew. The religious themes of his early works followed him into his later career. In the 1990s the Torah was a hot topic for Schwartz. During that time he penned the score to the classic animated telling of the Exodus story, The Prince of Egypt, and the lesser known telling of Bereshit in his wildly underrated musical, Children of Eden.
The idea for Children of Eden was originally conceived by Charles Lisanby, a “renowned…scenic designer for the Christmas spectacular at Radio City Music Hall.” Lisanby sought to create another pageant-like piece that featured the stories of the Book of Bereshit (Genesis). He knew he would need collaborators to realize his artistic vision so
he brought on Stephen Schwartz to write the musical score and John Caird to write the script. The show was workshopped with a community in Belleville, Illinois under the original project title “Family Tree.” It was a huge success so the team set out to flesh out the project into a full musical. They took the project under its new name to London where it turned out to be a massive flop. After its rocky start the creative team made major updates to the script and score hoping to give it a second life. In the decades that have followed, the piece has found its home as an underrated yet beloved musical for community and regional theaters across North America.
Just as Stephen Schwartz has yet to be recognized widely as a great commentator on the Torah, so too has Children of Eden lacked its moment in the spotlight. Both Schwartz and this musical are well-kept secrets that beg to be brought
into conversation with the study of Bereshit.
The first nine and a half chapters of Bereshit serve as the inspiration for Children of Eden. However, Schwartz and his artistic collaborators were not the first people to use the Torah as their artistic inspiration. In the introduction to the celebrated book of contemporary women’s midrash, Dirshuni, Tamar Kadari writes, “No artistic work springs ex nihilo (out of nothing), but rather depends on many years of tradition and culture.” Children of Eden was the product of generations of tradition and culture.
Kadari notes the impact of the Bible on “the lives of the Jews of antiquity…[To them] it was seen as the very embodiment of G-d’s own words and [so]…it drew its undisputed status as a holy text.” To this day many people still hold that the authority of the Bible is given by the power of the Divine word. And for those who do not hold that
belief it still stands as an epic history capturing the origins of a people. Either way it stands as a central work in the canon of literature. According to Kadari, …the Bible became a source of inspiration and focus of ceaseless attention. At communal gatherings…the Torah stood at the center. Ceremonial readings aside, biblical tales were told and retold, again and again, and passed from generation to generation. Central scenes were immortalized by wall paintings and floor mosaics in public buildings and synagogues. The tales and images of biblical heroes were incorporated into religious liturgy and popular song.
When it comes to reasoning for why artists across mediums keep returning to the Torah as a source of inspiration the famous King Solomon quote comes to mind. In the book of Kohelet it is written: “There is nothing new beneath the sun!” So it is only natural that writers and sculptors and musicians all keep turning to our origin story to see if they can partner with the original Creator to create something not new but perhaps different.
It is no wonder that Torah has been such a source of inspiration for theatre makers in particular as the original text reads much like a script. Within the first three pasukim of the Torah the first character, G-d, takes the stage. And G-d says: Let there be light!” Much of the first chapter and a half of Bereshit is G-d’s soliloquy. A magnificent
monologue that created the world. However, G-d quickly realizes that theatre is better with collaborators. With the creation of human beings G-d becomes less of an actor and more a Divine playwright. Crafting the first draft of the script for humankind. As G-d writes this divine play it becomes clear that the story is long and interwoven. Chapters
turn into scenes; scenes turn into entire plays full of monologue, and dialogue and divine stage direction.
For those who do not subscribe to the Torah as the direct word of G-d’s but rather a Divine story brought down by human hands, this idea still stands. Through the lens of the Documentary Hypothesis this sacred play becomes more of a community generated script. In some ways it is even easier to see the Torah as a script with the Documentary Hypothesis in mind. The holy playwrights who wrote the Torah are just like the playwrights we know today in that they were human.
Regardless of each person’s understanding of who the playwright(s) was (were) the Torah was penned and then put out into the world for people to play with as they please. The truth is, the beauty of a play lies in its gaps, its dot-dot-dots and its confusion. That’s where the directors, designers, and actors step in. The creative team really gets to work their magic in the world of imagining or re-imagining a story. The Torah, likewise, has an equivalent creative team, they’re just called mefarshim and midrashists (one who fills in the gaps or adds to the stories of the Torah). Once again, Tamar Kadari says it best, “When I am asked, ‘What is midrash?’ I say that it must be understood first and foremost as an exercise in creativity, with an element of play and pleasure in which sweep and imagination are conjoined.” Midrash is a wholly (and holy) creative act that helps to keep Torah relevant. Torah is a script begging to be staged by the next generation of theatrically minded mefarshim and midrashists.
Through his artistic pursuits, Stephen Schwartz is both a Torah commentator and creator of midrash. Children of Eden is a beautiful example of his commentary and his midrash. In some moments he sticks to the script (the Torah) and in others he finds freedom in ambiguity.
The opening musical number titled “Let There Be” draws its first three lyrics from the first three words of the Torah widely understood to mean “In the beginning…” Likewise, shortly after, the lyrics include the aforementioned line from Bereshit 1:3, “And G-d said: Let there be light.” In these moments, which are sprinkled thoughtfully throughout the entire musical, Schwartz is “sticking to the script.” To put it into Torah-centered language, he is engaging with the original text at a peshat level, one that highlights the surface level meaning of the text. This is even supported in the
orchestrations as Schwartz notes, “My thought was that when they were in Eden…everything was going to be extremely simple…and with very pure chords. That’s why “The Naming’ is basically A minor – no sharps or flats.”
As he continues to use his lyrics to tell the stories of Bereshit he enters into the territory of the commentators who explain what is just beneath the surface of the text. In the song “Perfect” Schwartz retranslates biblical language. This phrase is repeated over and over again in the first several pasukim of Bereshit. Similarly Schwartz repeats
the phrase “was perfect” in his lyrics below:
STORYTELLERS
AND THEIR LOVE WAS PERFECT,
AND THE DAY WAS PERFECT,
AND THE NEXT… WAS PERFECT,
AND THE NEXT… WAS PERFECT,
AND THE DAY AFTER THAT…
AND THE DAY AFTER THAT…
EACH ONE PERFECT AS COULD BE.
The phrase is commonly translated as “this/it was good.” Schwartz’s interpretation of the phrase offers an alternative translation that follows the same practice of repetition but hints at a layer of deeper meaning. This level of playing with the text is called remez in the classical theory of Biblical interpretation. His choice to use the word “perfect” over the word “good” gives the audience member a window into Schwartz personal commentary. The decision to use the word “perfect” emphasizes the utterly idyllic nature of Eden. Additionally, this sets up a greater dramatic fall from idealized perfection when Eve finally eats the fruit of knowledge and the Storytellers
sing the song “End of a Perfect Day” approximately ten pages later.
STORYTELLERS
NOTHING WAS DIFFERENT.
AND NOTHING WOULD EVER BE THE SAME.
IT WAS THE END OF A PERFECT DAY…
To use a peshat-level interpretation to convey such a dramatic shift from perfection to imperfection would miss the dramatic weight of this moment. The realm of drash, or more specifically midrash is where Stephen Schwartz really gets to “exercise [his] creativity,” to paraphrase Tamar Kadari’s definition of midrash. Schwartz’s midrashic touch is present right off the bat when he gives Eve a voice. His interpretation is highly egalitarian and features Eve using her own voice significantly more than the original text.
His midrashic angle is also present in his lyrics. For example, in Bereshit chapter three verse six it says:”…she took of its fruit and ate. She also gave some to her husband, and he ate.”
However, in the musical, Schwartz wrote the G-d-like character into this scene. Schwartz’s midrash rearranges the order of events to say that Eve ate and then Adam almost ate but G-d intervenes and essentially gives Adam an ultimatum: eat the fruit and never see G-d again or resist the fruit and stay in Eden. The classical understanding of this moment is that Eve tricks Adam into eating the fruit and G-d subsequently appears and kicks them both out of Eden. Schwartz’s midrash radically changes the audience’s understanding of Adam’s agency and the root of the sin. After
being given the ultimatum by G-d, in Schwartz’s version, Adam is the one who decides to eat the fruit and go with Eve. In this version of the story, Eve is no longer wholly responsible for the expulsion and the conflict becomes much more centered around that of Adam and his Father.
This highlights Schwartz’s most fascinating midrashic choice which was to name the G-d-like character in the production, “Father.” In an interview Schwartz shared, “I have always considered Children of Eden a story about families, the relationships between parents and children, and generational conflicts, not a story about religion.”
This gives clarity to his choice to name the character “Father” however this leaves room for another layer of theatrical midrash in the staging. How does each production physically stage the appearance of a character that is for all intents and purposes, G-d?
The stage directions in the script suggests that Father is, for the most part, on stage in-person just like any of the other characters. However, stage directions are a piece of the script in which the director has the liberty to make their own creative decisions. For example, the production that introduced me to this hidden gem of a musical was produced by J*Company Youth Theatre at the Lawrence Family Jewish Community Center in San Diego in 2011. In this production, Father was never seen on stage. The actor playing Father sang the entire role from backstage. Actors spoke to Father by directing their focus up and out to the back of the audience. I did not realize it at the time but this was a distinctly Jewish production as it specifically did not physically depict G-d at any point during the show.
After taking a brief survey of other colleagues who have seen or performed in productions of Children of Eden, it became clear that this was not the only way to present the character of Father. Some productions had Father on stage as it is written in the script, another had him on a separate platform that overlooked the stage, while another had him on stage until the expulsion from Eden. All of this to say, Schwartz expertly left space for midrash in his midrash. He understood that as we return and return to the Torah, midrash is an ever evolving piece of the conversation to
which we all have access.
Peter Brook, an esteemed theatre director, wrote in his seminal work, The Empty Space, that “many audiences all over the world will answer positively from their own experiences that they have seen the face of the invisible through an experience on the stage that transcended their experiences in life.” Theatre has the ability to be a three-dimensional, transcendent experience. When Torah is brought to us through this medium it opens our eyes up to what exists beyond the page. The marriage of theatre and Torah honors the holy nature of the text while connecting Torah back to its original form, atradition of oral storytelling. A tradition which we will pass down to our own children in
the hopes that they continue adding to these stories for generations to come.
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