Therapeutic Music

Healing Harps

 

The therapeutic properties of harp music have been proven in medical studies. From days of old, people have benefitted from the presence of music in their lives. This is particularly true when they are ill or troubled, feeling helpless and anxious. Live, gentle therapeutic harp music at the bedside, tailored to the needs of each individual, can provide a path toward greater relaxation and comfort in a spiritual, but non-sectarian, atmosphere.

In November 2008, I became a dinkum (i.e., certified) therapeutic musician. For the past five years or so, I have been playing and singing therapeutically not only in Sha‘arei Zedek Hospital in Jerusalem, but also in private homes and -- occasionally -- in public places.

Back in November 2007, for example, I found myself on a tedious train journey up-state from New York City, into the depths of Vermont. The two books I had chosen for the trip turned out to be duds: I turfed them into the rubbish bin, where they belonged. Instead, I took up my harp, and people started to gather around me.

What had begun as a move to allay my own boredom turned into a therapeutic session for one particular gentleman, who settled himself, full-length, on the seats across the aisle from me, hat perched cheekily over his eyes, and floated away with the music. Our deep, intense conversation afterwards convinced me that the music had truly helped him at a time when he needed to gather considerable spiritual, mental and physical strength in order to tread a new path in his life. I remain touched by this encounter, one of several such meetings over the years.

It is a true privilege to play and sing for people who need the gentleness, harmony and beauty in the music to release, comfort and/or uplift them, or who simply love music and respond to it eagerly. Each person whom I have played and sung for, in such situations, has touched my heart. That is not the point of the exercise, of course, but simply a warming side-effect; nonetheless, I thank them for it.

 

 

Some Reflections on Healing Music in Jerusalem
[Published in the Harp Therapy Journal, Spring 2009]

 

Since my first ‘session’ in the hospital nearly five years ago, I have always been struck by the response of many listeners, who immediately make the connection between King David and the harp. Some recall the Biblical episode in which the young shepherd plays soothing music for the depressed King Saul; others mention the Psalms. On one occasion, my playing prompted a patient to search in his personal copy of the Psalms for a particular reference to harps. He consulted several other religiously-observant Jews in the waiting-room, and they all seemed to enjoy the distraction of some intellectual activity. His response to the instrument, and his excitement and passion, caused general amusement and delight.

There are many situations in which I have wondered “would this happen elsewhere?” The religious mix here necessitates a sensitive approach. For a start, I dress in a way that will not offend the sensibilities of ultra-Orthodox Jewish patients and their families, ensuring that shoulders-to-knees are pretty well-covered, though I do not pretend to be religiously observant myself.

Because of the fraught socio-political situation here in Israel, so stickily intertwined with issues of faith and ethnicity, I also consider my therapeutic repertoire carefully. For instance, I do not usually play specifically Jewish tunes in front of Palestinian patients, and definitely no Israeli songs with nationalist connotations. However, folk tunes, improvizations on modes and Middle Eastern scales, and medieval and Renaissance melodies, all provide me with plenty of material.

Another consideration is the tradition of kol isha (Hebrew for ‘a woman’s voice’). In some Orthodox Jewish communities it is considered inappropriate for a man to hear a woman’s voice in song. In private rooms, where I can shut the door, I have sometimes sung for patients and their visitors at their request. One ultra-Orthodox Jew asked me to play for his wife, who soon asked me to sing in Yiddish, the language of Eastern European Jews that is still widely spoken in their community. She loved the lullaby I sang. She proceeded to ask me personal questions, telling me that this was the first time she had ever spoken with a secular Jew. She felt that we had connected. We were both deeply moved.

Although I am predominantly a singer, I generally do not sing in the public areas of the hospital. It interests me, however, to realize just how flexible some religious traditions can be. A devout Jewish man once asked me to sing in a public area of the Oncology Day Centre. In fact, it was the eve of Tisha b’Av, a somber day of mourning and fasting for religious Jews, when listening to music is forbidden. Present there -– as usual -- was a mix of men and women, secular and religiously-observant Jews, and people of other faiths. When I expressed concern about both Tisha B’Av and kol isha, he said, “Ah, but this is not entertainment; this is for healing.” I wanted to hug him (forbidden, of course). In medical or therapeutic situations, strict customs may be set aside deliberately, in recognition of other needs. I sang for thirty minutes and then, to my joy, everyone began talking to each other. The music had helped to break down barriers. Afterwards, I simply floated home.

The informality in Israeli society (where you are addressed by your first name 99% of the time) spills over into medical settings. People may speak as loudly there as they do in the street, and they are sometimes interested in your business as well as their own. All this makes for an atmosphere that differs strongly from the hushed, more formal settings which my studies had prepared me for; however, although there are times when I long for more quiet around the wards, I have become accustomed to much of it.

This casualness hits you in different ways. On one occasion, the head nurse at the nurses’ station began singing along with the medley of Jewish melodies that I was playing. Smiling, one of the patients came out of her room and also joined in. Gradually, other patients and visitors gathered around: the music brought joy and comfort to all who were listening.

In a small country like Israel and an intimate city like Jerusalem, finding unexpected personal connections is not uncommon. I have sometimes found myself playing for friends or the families of friends. A nurse on one of my regular ‘stops’ eventually discovered that we have family in common. It caused considerable hilarity on the ward, and one of the volunteers asked if she could please be in my family, too, because she loves the music so much. I was once asked to play for a man with stomach cancer. After chatting for a few moments, he and his wife discovered that they knew some of my cousins. Even the director of the unit, it turned out, was an old friend of theirs, and he joined us in a long discussion about the informality in Israeli hospitals. When he needed to drain the patient’s stomach, he asked me to stay. I began to build a simple, spare pattern on the harp, playing for nearly an hour (keeping my eyes firmly averted from the procedure). Some days later, my lawyer called: he had just attended the patient’s funeral, and wanted to tell me that my playing and how much it had meant to the patient had been specifically mentioned.

Another day, a young woman, due to give birth at any moment, asked if I would play for her husband in the Urology Department, where he was recovering from surgery. The patients gathered around as I began to play rhythmic-but-gentle Irish and Renaissance music, and the baby – quiet until that moment – began to dance in its mother’s belly. This became the focus of everyone’s attention. When I first entered the ward, I could sense the unhappiness and pain that the patients were feeling, and could see it in their faces; the baby’s response to the music brought joy instead, and I left them all smiling. I was smiling, too.

Music Adds New Dose of Healing at Sha‘are Zedek
[Published on the Sha‘are Zedek web-site in January 2007]

 

Walking through the halls of Jerusalem’s Sha‘are Zedek Medical Center you’re bound to hear many of the sounds typically associated with a major hospital. Doctors and nurses on the phone, patients quietly interacting with visitors. Yet, as a result of a groundbreaking new therapy program taking place in the hospital, those sounds are now being joined by the melodious chords of the harp -- an instrument with an ancient history connecting it to Israel’s capital which is today working to soothe the often--frayed nerves of patients, medical staff and visitors alike.

Part of an initiative by the local organization called Nevel: The Jerusalem Harp Network, several harp players can be regularly found in various departments around the hospital. Patients who serve to benefit from the music include those suffering from terminal illnesses, and the Hematology and Oncology wards are always included in the harp tours around the hospital.

According to Jill Rogoff, a professional singer and recording artist who co-founded Nevel and now uses her talents to the benefit of Shaare Zedek patients, harp music has a powerful therapeutic effect -- particularly for patients coping with difficult prognoses. “In our work, the music itself is the therapy. While other quiet instruments are also effective in calming the spirit, the harp has proven itself particularly suitable for this work. Time and again, patients, visitors and staff have expressed their appreciation of the special comfort and serenity that this gentle instrument brings into their day.”

Therapeutic music has been endorsed by many medical practitioners as an important means of assisting patients to relax and get their minds away from pain. The harp program has received the enthusiastic support of Dr. Nathan Cherny, the Director of the Cancer Pain and Palliative Care Service at Sha‘are Zedek and one of the world’s leaders in the area of palliative care.

Beyond just the wards where one would most expect to see music therapy being provided, the harp also makes regular appearances in the neonatology ward, where the musicians say that the soothing sounds of their instruments have been found to help premature infants in these critical stages of development.

According to Ms. Rogoff, there is a great deal of comfort for patients which can be represented through harp music played in the proper manner and setting: “While we can only play for a short while in each place, the effect of the music can linger for many hours afterwards, helping patients and staff alike to deal with the stressful situations in which they find themselves. Just as the medical teams try their utmost to ease their patients’ way, so do therapeutic musicians aim to ease the minds and spirits of those we encounter in our work.”

 

 

Harpers in Hospital Wards
[Published in a private newsletter in May 2006]

 

“I continue to train as a therapeutic harper in the course offered by American harper Laurie Riley. Over the past two years, I have been playing at the Sha’arei Zedek Hospital up the road, and in recent months in its Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.

“Recent research in the USA has shown that premature babies absorb oxygen more efficiently when a harp is played to them – not recorded music (though that does have a positive, if weaker effect), but a live harp. The vibration of string on wood seems to have a deep influence on these tiny creatures struggling to survive. So it is deeply moving and exciting for me to play for the babies, their worried parents and grand-parents, and the tense staff. My appearance in the ward is greeted with joy and relief.

“A favourite moment was when an ultra-Orthodox [extremely devout Jewish] father began to sing along softly with my harp, as his wife gently fed their child. Another mother, stroking her baby’s skin as I played, encouraged her to listen to the music.

“I find myself improvising in a slow 6/8 rhythm to the machines beeping around the room. I always play in the key of G, which is musically compatible with the B-note that the machines emit. In this way, the beeping becomes a part of the music and is immediately far less irritating. On some occasions, the improvisation will last for a full 15 minutes, before I move on to another piece.

“On several occasions now, ultra-Orthodox men have spoken to me about the instrument, the music, or asked for a particular tune. Normally, they would never speak to me, as it is clear from my clothes that I am not of their community. Perhaps they allow themselves this measure of direct communication, seeing me as part of the staff or because I am doing what they consider to be a mitzvah [a religiously-sanctioned “good deed”]. I am happy that the music is breaking down traditional barriers.

“I play, too, for people who are at the very end of their lives. It is impossible for me not to be moved by the distress of the family at their side. One woman, hovering over her fading husband, grasped my hands and searched my face, asking if the harp music would help him. I could only say that it would do him no harm, and that it is thought to help both spirit and body. She told me that he was already quite deaf, but I said that several people with experience in this work note that the ears are one of the last organs to fail: there was a good chance that her husband would still hear the music, even if only subliminally; and his body would certainly receive the vibrations from the instrument, even though we would not be able to see it. She accepted this and allowed me to stand in the corner of the room, playing quietly for some thirty minutes. After twenty, I noticed that the patient’s body was relaxing more, and so was his wife’s.

“The staff who have encountered my colleagues and me have come to believe implicitly in the power of the music we play. When I have been away, some of the nurses tell me later that they have missed the music and need a regular ‘dose’ of it. Others are mildly annoyed when one of the patients refuses my offer of music. I have to tell them that this is absolutely the patient’s right; in fact, it may be the only thing they can refuse when they are in a helpless situation in a hospital. Other patients simply have not experienced this music, and may not realise how beneficial it can be. Increasingly, however, people are excited about the presence of the harp in the hospital, and anticipate our visits with pleasure.

“In February, Nevel became an official non-profit organisation. This will enable us to increase our activities and also receive donations, to help cover the costs of our members’ playing in various places. We are now halfway through our course, and our enthusiasm isn’t waning. On the contrary, we are deeply encouraged by the positive response we are meeting everywhere we go. Long may it continue.”

 

 

 

Playing therapeutic harp music
[Published in a private newsletter in May 2005]

 

“In September 2002, I helped found Nevel: The Jerusalem Harp Network with two other harp enthusiasts. Our circle has grown, both in numbers and scope. Apart from our musical agenda (workshops, concerts, etc.), we aim to use harps to reach out to underprivileged and at-risk youngsters, and -- most immediately -- to play for the sick and needy in hospitals and private homes. Our belief in the therapeutic properties of harp music has moved several of our members to begin studying to become certified therapeutic harpers, adapting one of the existing American courses to our local situation.

“We have already received two harps from generous donors. The first of these sits permanently at Sha’arei Tzedek Hospital in Jerusalem, waiting for whichever of us visits next. My first one-on-one experience, a ‘field work’ requirement for the course, was playing recently for a Jewish woman, a former American, hospitalised in an oncology ward. This situation is always nerve-wracking for the musician: you can never be sure how someone is going to receive your music. We want to serve their needs by creating a serene, comforting atmosphere: this is neither entertainment nor an opportunity to show off.

“Entering the room, I introduced myself by my first name alone. I asked the patient if she would like some music, and when she agreed, I urged her to stop me if it bothered her at any point. That point never came. I instinctively lowered my voice to a murmur when addressing her, and my harp-playing began at the same level. However, after a few minutes, she asked me to play a little more loudly. When her family began to gather, they indicated that they would like me to remain. Slow tunes are best suited to this situation, when the patient is lying on their back, possibly drifting in and out of sleep. I played several of my regular Celtic repertoire, but slowed each one down almost beyond recognition. Instinctively, you find yourself sticking more or less to the basic tune with the simplest of arrangements. Improvisation on a musical pattern or scale is even better. You play very rubato (without a set rhythm), letting notes linger through the room -- the Aeolian harp effect. It is deeply relaxing and soothing -- not just for the patient, but also for visitors and staff.

“After 50 minutes, I rose to take my leave, not wanting to overdo it. I mentioned to her that I also sing, and that I would do so on my next visit if she would like that. One of her sons immediately requested that I sing something in Hebrew before I leave. I was a little stumped: my usual Jewish repertoire on the harp is in Ladino (Judeo-Espagnol). Note to myself: I need to quickly learn to play some Hebrew and Yiddish tunes on the harp for such situations. After a minute’s careful deliberation, I thought of the evergreen Erev shel Shoshanim (Evening of Roses) and sang a verse and chorus for the whole room, to their evident delight. I was quite exhausted after the session, but happy that I was able to do what I had set out to do.

“Because of the different ethnic and religious sensitivies of patients here -- Jewish or non-Jewish, Israeli or Palestinian, devout or not, men or women -- we have had to think out our repertoire with particular care. This work is physically draining, but when a session goes well, when the patient and everyone else around them is soothed by the magic of the harp, the player feels deeply thankful for having been able to help in this small way.”