OLD TUNE, NEW MEANING: REIMAGINING ONE OF JUDAISM'S OLDEST SONGS

For many years, my husband Arthur has been urging me to adapt Adon Olam—one of our tradition’s most beloved hymns—for use in our services.

Adon Olam is a remarkable work. No one knows who wrote it, but it’s at least 700 years old and quite possibly older. My mother liked it—but that was probably because, as she taught me, “When they start singing Adon Olam, the service is over!” When I was a kid, we always used a traditional tune. But Adon Olam has a remarkable quality: it can be sung to almost any melody. The meter—eight syllables to a line—makes it endlessly adaptable. In traditional synagogues I’ve heard it sung to Happy Birthday and Yankee Doodle, depending upon the occasion. You can find versions on YouTube set to songs from Hamilton, Wicked, and countless pop tunes.

While its adaptability accounts for some of its popularity, its real influence comes from the simple story of faith that it tells. Before there was anything, it says, there was God—the world’s order sustained by that eternal presence. Its promise of divine protection is powerful. It is a complete theology in one song—a compact statement of Jewish theism if ever there was one.

In other words, not exactly right for us!

Nevertheless, Arthur (and many others) persisted. Which is how, last week, I found myself diving down the Adon Olam rabbit hole, attempting yet again to create a version relevant to our beliefs.

When I got to the bottom of that hole, I came to the conclusion that the only way to adapt Adon Olam was by telling our story from the opposite direction. This was always the sticking point because the words Adon Olam translate to “Master of the World.”

Taking inspiration from a Humanistic adaptation of Avinu Malkeinu (“Our Father, Our King”) used by Kol Hadash and other Humanistic congregations, I decided to keep the title Adon Olam, treating it not as a reference to God but as the title for the song that it is, reframing it as a reminder that, in reality, it is we who are the masters of our world.

The Hebrew verse that opens my version now reads: Adon Olam hu shir adam, literally “Adon Olam is a song about humanity.” But given that there are quite a few extraneous syllables in that translation, I went with this: “Adon Olam, that song are we.” A little awkward, perhaps, but it conveys the idea. And I checked—it’s grammatical!

This, I felt, turns the traditional story on its head. The “master of the world” is not a heavenly ruler but can instead be understood as our collective name for humanity. After the Hebrew verse—which repeats and is translated at the end—comes a song of collective humanity that, through love, courage, and creativity, shapes our own destiny.

Last Shabbat we sang it to one of the old tunes expressing a new Jewish belief—one that no longer seeks to praise an eternal ruler. Instead, this Adon Olam affirms our very human capacity to bring meaning, justice, and peace to the world.

I hope it leaves us reflecting on the idea that when we sing “master of the world,” it can mean something profoundly Humanistic: that we, the human singers of the song, are the authors of our collective future.

Here it is ...

ADON OLAM

A Humanistic Jewish Interpretation

Rabbi Jeffrey L. Falick

אָדוֹן עוֹלָם הוּא שִׁיר אָדָם

אוֹהֵב חַיִּים וְהָעוֹלָם

קוֹלוֹ עוֹלֶה בְּשִׁיר שָׁלוֹם

וּבָאָדָם נִמְצָא חֲלוֹם

A-don o-lam hu shir a-dam,

Ohev cha-yim v'ha-olam.

Kolo oleh b’shir shalom,

U-va-adam nim-tsa cha-lom.

Before our time, the world began,

And from that dawn our story ran,

Through nature’s law and life’s design.

We seek our meaning, yours and mine.

No hand unseen directs our way,

Yet purpose grows with each new day;

Through heart and thought, through joy and pain,

We shape the good that will remain.

Adon Olam—that song are we,

Our world steered by humanity.

Our love of life stirs songs of peace,

Within us all such dreams increase.

A-don o-lam hu shir a-dam,

Ohev cha-yim v'ha-olam.

Kolo oleh b’shir shalom,

U-va-adam nim-tsa cha-lom.