AN EERIE PROPHECY: Haìm ned'à lehiwalèd... (Will we know how to be born again)?

An eerie song. In an energetic and clean way it punctuates a complex text -full of allusions and symbolism- and asks, “Will we know how to be born again?”

AUTHOR: Yànkale Ròtblit.

2024 Arrangement: HaChatzèr HaAchorìt.

STYLES: Anxiety  |  Adrenalinic (M).

CATEGORIES: Rabbia o Confusione  |  Guardando Avanti  |  Shock / Lutto / Ansia  |  Remakes

RELEASE: 03/31/2024, day 176 of war and hostage captivity.

LINK to the song: https://youtu.be/3H7jk_QB3g4?si=Z7BiWJA22YP2D8ru

LINK to Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/track/6icmYzENBRjRO5AKIP2kBz?si=f90868c4fce546d2

INTRODUCTION

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There are times when a song speaks louder than words, becoming a reflection of society’s deepest struggles and hopes. Haìm Ned'à LeHiwalèd shuv MiChadàsh (Will we know how to be born again?), originally written by Yankale Rotblit in 2004, is one of those songs.

Recently revived by the band HaChatzèr HaAchorìt (The Backyard), this haunting piece feels almost prophetic, capturing the turmoil of Israel today while offering a timeless message about unity, resilience, and responsibility.

At its heart, the song asks a profound question: Can a fractured society rise above its divisions and find a way to be whole again? It’s a question for Israel—and for anyone grappling with polarization in their own communities.

A Nation at a Crossroads:

Israel in 2024-25 is a nation with a proud history of overcoming external threats. But today, it faces a different kind of challenge: internal division.

The divides aren’t new, but they’ve deepened and shifted. It’s no longer just about Left versus Right or secular versus religious. It’s about group identities —Left, Right, Religious, Secular, Ultra-Orthodox, Religious Zionists, Drafted, Exempted form the Army Service, Elites, Neglected, Periphery, Center, Sephardim, Mizrachìm, Ashkenazìm, Demonstrators, Bibists... — each one convinced of its own narrative. Each seeing another party responsible for his or her own problems or wrongs suffered.

What’s troubling is how these divides obscure a greater truth: there’s more that unites these groups than separates them.

Unfortunately, political leaders and media outlets often stoke division for their own gains, amplifying differences instead of fostering dialogue. Social media then takes this to an extreme, turning every disagreement into a battlefield.

On the eve of the tragedy of October 7th, these divisions were at their peak. As from October 8th, as the nation mourned, many also realized how deeply polarized society had become. The question now is whether Israel can rise above these divides—or whether it will let them lead to ruin.

The Song’s Origins. A Mirror of Turmoil:

Though it feels written for today, Haìm Ned'à LeHiwalèd was born out of a different crisis.

In 2004, Yankale Rotblit wrote the song during a time of intense political and social strain. Israel had just experienced the dashed hopes of the Oslo Accords, the assassination of

Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin, the violence of the Second Intifada, and the controversial decision to withdraw from Gaza.

Each event left scars on the national psyche, deepening divisions and creating a sense of uncertainty about the future.

The song was released as part of Rotblit’s 2005 album, Medinàt HaYehudim, Vol. 2 (The State of the Jews, Vol. 2), a title that nods to Theodor Herzl’s Zionist manifesto, Der Judenstaat. The reference is deliberate, highlighting the tension between the ideals of Zionism and the challenges of modern Israeli society. Even then, the song was a reflection on a society struggling to hold itself together.

Fast forward 20 years, and HaChatzèr HaAchorìt has given the song new life. Their 2024 rendition is both a tribute to Rotblit’s vision and a response to the current moment, where the song’s message feels more urgent than ever.

A Song Full of Symbols:

What makes Haìm Ned'à LeHiwalèd so powerful is its use of rich, layered imagery. Rotblit, though a secular songwriter, draws on Jewish tradition to create a tapestry of metaphors that speak to both ancient history and modern struggles.

Among them:

• The Temple and Its Destruction: The song invokes images of sacrifices and sanctuaries, which immediately bring to mind the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem. Both were destroyed, events that marked profound turning points in Jewish history.

According to tradition, these destructions were partly caused by sinàt chinàm—“hatred without cause” within the Jewish community. This concept serves as a warning in the song, reminding listeners of the dangers of internal division.

• The Binding of Isaac: Another key reference is the Akedàh, or the binding of Isaac. This biblical story of sacrifice is both a symbol of faith and a moment of profound existential questioning. In the song, it underscores the weight of the choices Israel faces today: what are we willing to sacrifice, and at what cost?

• Shofar Calls and Ritual Sounds: The mention of the shofàr (ram’s horn) adds another layer of meaning. In Jewish tradition, the shofar is blown during moments of reflection, such as Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Its sound calls people to introspection and repentance—exactly what the song urges.

• Hatred Without Cause (Sin’at Chinam): The idea of baseless hatred is woven throughout the song. It’s a theme with deep roots in Jewish tradition, often cited as a key reason for the fall of the Temples. Here, it serves as both a warning and a call to reconciliation.

• From Collective to Personal Responsibility:

One of the song’s most striking features is how it shifts from addressing society as a whole to speaking directly to the individual. It moves from questions like “Can we be reborn?” to “What’s your role in this?” This shift reflects a core principle of Jewish thought: the balance between communal fate and personal responsibility.

In one verse, the lyrics describe “everything now on the scales,” evoking a sense of urgency and accountability. Later, the focus narrows to the listener: “What do you need to guard against? And can you?” This interplay between the collective and the personal is a powerful reminder that societal change starts with individual actions.

A Question for Today—and Tomorrow:

At its core, Haìm Ned'à LeHiwalèd is about choices. Can we rise above division and hatred? Can we rebuild what has been broken?

The song doesn’t offer easy answers, but it does make one thing clear: the power to change lies within each of us.

As Israel navigates its challenges, the song’s message feels more relevant than ever. It’s a reminder that while history is full of painful lessons, it also offers hope for renewal. And perhaps, with reflection, responsibility, and a commitment to unity, we can find a way to be reborn.

The Song’s Musical Evolution:

When Haìm Ned'à LeHiwalèd was first released in 2004, it was a rock ballad—poignant, but musically understated.

The 2024 version by HaChatzèr HaAchorìt transforms it into something much more dynamic.

The new arrangement is haunting and intense, with vocals that echo like an alarm call from a distant desert. The song feels alive, its urgency amplified by the raw emotion of the band’s performance.

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Yànkale Ròtblit and HaChatzèr HaAchorìt:

Yankale Rotblit is one of Israel’s most respected songwriters, known for his ability to distill complex emotions and ideas into poignant lyrics. Born in Haifa in 1945, he has written songs for some of the biggest names in Israeli music, earning a place in the country’s cultural pantheon. In 2011, Rotblit formed HaChatzèr HaAchorìt with three younger musicians: Tomer Yosef, Itamar Ziegler, and Gadi Ronen.

Their partnership blends Rotblit’s lyrical depth with contemporary sounds, creating music that feels both timeless and current. The revival of Haìm Ned'à LeHiwalèd is a testament to the enduring power of his work.

For Tomer Yosef, a member of HaChatzèr HaAchorìt, the song carries personal weight. He lives in Kibbutz Ze’elim, near the site of the October 7 attacks. His experience of that day adds a layer of poignancy to the performance, turning the song into both a national alarm and a personal response to grief.

Here a recording by the group as part of the Indie City Project , October 2024.

At time 01:05 a performance of the song; less formal, but no less precise.

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SONG TraNSLATION:

Dall’infrangersi dei sogni

e dal trauma delle perdite

Da tutte le lacerazioni dei diversi mondi (4)

(adesso) è tuo il sacrificio

Dall’amarezza dell’aver aperto gli occhi

sgorgherà uno sfogo?

Dato che la dolcezza del frutto della vittoria

ha maturato semi di distruzione.

Ancora un momento e tutto andrà perso

se volete come (fosse stata) una favola (5)

La lezione che imparò Isacco

nel giorno in cui stava per esser sacrificato (6)

Tutto è ormai sul piatto della bilancia

gli abissi son lì aperti

ed eccoci arrivati alla soglia

Guerra fratricida o riconciliazione (7)

Mi sembra di aver sentito chiamare il mio nome

ma non son sicuro chi ha chiamato

Mi ha chiamato e io arriverò

Di fronte a chi sto qui in piedi? (8)

Il corpo trema

sono il testimone

arrivato scalzo come un sopravvissuto

solo

dal Santuario  (9)

Ma sapremo di nuovo rinascere?

Da cosa dovrai guardarti

-e ne hai la facoltà-

tra tutto ciò che ancora abbiam davanti

sulle diverse mappe

tra i suoni ritmati di corno (10) e i clamori (10)

e il sangue delle cerimonie sacrificali? (11) 

Perchè se l’odio gratuito (12) aumenterà

dopo di esso rimarrano solo disgrazie.

Mi sembra... (etc.)

È triste e amaro il giorno

in cui tremerà il cuore

di ciascun uomo

e non importa

chi è a favore e chi è contro

Domani e fra molti anni

quella discussione diverrà incandescente

Ma ecco il giorno in cui

abbasserò il mio sguardo.    (13)

Mi sembra... (etc.)

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NOTE e COMMENTI:

(1) Sarebbe possibile enumerare altri "gruppi identitari"; è però più interessante notare come, nella mappa delle varie tensioni interne alla società israeliana, sono scomparse da alcune decine di anni due categorie che in realtà sarebbero tra loro antitetiche: ‘Olìm Chadashìm e Vatikìm, ovvero Nuovi Immigrati e Residenti da Più Generazioni.

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