As Marek Tuszewicki notes in his study of Ashkenazi folk medicine, A frog under the tongue, the prayers said during feldmestn were of fundamental importance. “According to the author of Sefer matamim, the fundamental significance of this custom … lay not so much in measuring as in pacing the cemetery with prayer on one’s lips, and hence in a symbolic cordoning off of the space occupied by death” (Tuszewicki, 2021, p. 185).

This theory is supported by a series of prayers for “encircling the cemetery” found in a 1930 edition of the mayne-loshn (ma’aneh lashon), a seventeenth century cemetery prayer book that in the modern period was particularly popular with women. Certain details in this twentieth century edition indicate that these were prayers for feldmestn—notably the repeated use of the word “arumringlen,” the association of the prayers with the month of Elul and the High Holidays, and the inclusion of prayers for “those who encircle the cemetery every day or on Mondays and Thursdays and other fast days”, which we know was the practice of some very pious women and indeed professional feldmesterins. However, Chava Weissler has stated that earlier editions of the mayne loshn do not contain cemetery measuring prayers, and the wording of the prayers themselves suggest that they may have originated as prayers simply for walking the circumference of the cemetery.

While prayers for keyver-mestn—the measuring of individual graves—call on the soul attached to that grave to pray and advocate for the living, the mayne loshn prayers for cemetery “encircling” invoke all of the dead, praying for their wellbeing and calling on them to help the living with their prayers. Using the local dead in that particular cemetery as a source of connection to the whole spirit world and all of Jewish ancestry, the prayers—which in some places read more like incantations—also invoke Biblical ancestors and the dead buried all over the world. Striking for their length—the prayers take up 27 pages of the book—these prayers are also impressive in the scope of what they try to do, mobilising the righteous dead for the benefit of the living and also to help other deceased souls, notably those who have died a “strange death” or been murdered for being Jews.

However, few examples of these prayers have survived. Similarly, I have not found any record of the incantation which was said to protect the measuring thread – known in Yiddish as the “dead thread”.  According to S. Weissenberg‘s study of cemetery measuring during the month of Elul, while the feldmesterin—the professional cemetery measurer—unwound the thread around the cemetery, her client would follow behind performing mostly Yiddish prayers, quite possibly those from the mayne loshn, which was widely used by women in Elul. While Weissenberg did record an example of the prayer said by the feldmesterin when measuring an individual grave, he didn’t record those said when measuring the cemetery, whether by the client or by the feldmesterin.

Other sources, however, reveal that alongside printed prayers like those of the mayne loshn there were also short tkhines and songs for cemetery measuring, performed by the women who were conducting the measurement. Interestingly, despite the the relatively few sources available, it is possible to identify a common theme: the comparison of the measuring thread with the human soul, and the suggestion that by extending the thread around the cemetery, the life or lives of the sufferer(s) might be extended.

Two sources I have come across record songs that were sung during cemetery measuring or during the soul candle making that followed cemetery measuring.

The first was recorded by Max Weinreich in his hometown Goldingen (Kundinga), Latvia, in an interview with a woman he names as “Mrs Berte T”. Remembering how, 35 years earlier (in the 1890s), people used to measure the cemetery in Goldingen, Berte T only remembered a short verse of the song that they used to sing during the measurement: 

געגאַנגען איז ער אין אַ קײטעלע

פֿאַר זײַן נשמה, אַ קנײטעלע

דרײ דעם פֿאָדעם, דרײ

Gegangen iz er in a keytele
Far zayn neshome, a kneytele
Drey dem fodem, drey…

He went in a little chain
For his soul a candlewick 
Spin the thread, spin…

The second, is from Pruzhene (Pruzhany), Poland, and was recorded by A Fayvushinsky in an essay on Pruzhene Folklore in a memorial book written after the Holocaust.

כ׳האָב אַ מאַמע, צײטעלע

פֿאַר איר נשמה, אַ קנײטעלע

דרײט מען דאָס פֿעדעמל שטאַרק

לאַנג, לאַנג

Kh’hob a mame, Tseytele
Far ir neshome, a kneytele
Dreyt men dos fedeml shtark
Lang, lang

I have a mama, Tseytele,
For her soul – a kneytele (candle wick)
The thread is spun, strong
long, long.

These songs are strikingly similar, both comparing the measuring thread to the human soul, and emphasizing the act of drawing it out. They also bear a resemblance to the cemetery measuring prayer recited by Gitele the gabete of Koriv, in which she compared the thread to the life of the child she was trying to save, and described the act of lengthening it as an act of healing.

“Raboyne shel oylem, azoy vi mir beyde hobn getsoygn dem fodem mit undzer gantsn koyekh, un der fodem iz nisht ibergerisn gevorn, azoy zoln botl vern ale beyze koykhes. Dem tayern kinds lebn zol kholile nisht ibergerisn vern.“

“Master of the universe, since we both pulled the thread with all our power, and the thread did not break, shall all evil powers come to naught. The dear child’s life shall also not break and be cut short, God forbid.”

When, on one occasion, the thread accidentally snapped during her measurement, Gitele quickly adapted her tkhine. Rather than comparing the thread to the life of the child, she compared it to the “menacing degree of punishment” that threatened the child’s life.

Raboyne shel oylem! Azoy vi der fodem hot zikh ibergerisn, azoy zol ibergerisn vern der beyzer gzardi’n

Master of the universe! Just as the thread was broken, shall the menacing decree of punishment also be broken!

A very similar tkhine is recorded in the Groyser verterbukh fun der yidisher shprakh [The great dictionary of the Yiddish Language], under “iberdreyevdik” – overturnable. During grave measuring, the dictionary records, the following tkhine was said:

Vi der fodem tsit zikh, azoy zol zikh tsien zayn lebn

As the thread is extended, so shall [the sufferer’s] life be extended

If and when the thread broke, this tkhine was “overturned”:

Vi der fodem rayst zikh, azoy zol zikh opraysn zayn khoylas

As the thread breaks, so shall [the sufferer’s] illness be broken

All of these sources suggest that the comparison of the thread to the human life or soul was a common theme in cemetery and grave measurements (as well as the “reversal” of this comparison at times when the ritual went wrong). This supports the theory that cemetery measuring had developed not only from the previous custom of walking the cemetery perimeter, but also from another rite that involved measuring the sick person themselves with thread—a theory that was put forward by Polish ethnographer Regina Lilientalowa (Tuszewicki, 2021, p. 185). The custom of measuring the sick person themselves and making a candle the size of their body, popular among Catholics in the medieval period, was still practiced in some Eastern European shtetls in the late 19^th century, although it seems to have been quite rare, more so than grave and cemetery measuring. In this custom, the thread used to measure the sufferer was used to make a candle the size of their body, which was either donated to the synagogue—like those made from grave and cemetery measurements—or buried in the cemetery in shrouds. (Chajes, 1928, Lilientalowa 1898.)

Finally, Rabbi Tuviah Gutman Rappoport, writing about Gitele the Gabete of Koriv and her custom of feldmestn, noted that the thread was “an opgeshprokhene”—it had been protected by an incantation. Unfortunately, Gutman Rappoport doesn’t provide an example of this incantation, which he may have not heard, given that women were often fiercely protective of them. In other sources, the thread used in cemetery measuring was known as “der toyter fodem” —the dead thread—which also features in Yiddish idioms, illustrating the popularity of the practice. Weissenberg suggested that it was important that the thread came into contact with the cemetery earth or grass, which other sources also suggest was believed to have healing properties.

Overall, cemetery measuring seems to have consisted of several, overlapping, symbolic gestures:

• It created a boundary – both physical, with thread, and with song and prayer – around the cemetery, the realm of the dead, separating it from that of the living. This act of “closing off” the cemetery was hoped to protect from further death in times of severe illness, plague, war or when the living faced God’s judgement during the Days of Awe.
• Like other cemetery prayer, it created a connection with the dead, calling on them to pray and advocate for the living before God in the divine court. The physical act of extending the thread may have been believed to help activate the chain of spirit connection that could be used to connect the living to God, described in the Zohar and paraphrased in this prayer for daily cemetery measurements, as well as in some of the prayers for soul candle making (Weissler, 1997).
• It created a physical connection with the earth of the cemetery, which would then be used in candles or other objects, and which was believed to have healing properties
• It used thread, candles and other objects as symbols for human life. By extending the thread, cemetery measurers hoped to extend the life of the person or people for whom they performed the ritual. Similarly, candles could be buried or donated to the synagogue as a stand in for that person, in the hope that this offering would be accepted and that their life would not be taken. The act of giving candles or other materials produced in cemetery measuring to the poor or to the synagogue was also a mitsve – a holy act that it was hoped would inspire God’s mercy on the sufferer, and, by allowing the dead to participate in this mitsve, would acquire their aid in persuading God to show mercy. The flame of a burning candle—frequently compared in Jewish lore to the human soul—was also believed to be a good omen if it burned down completely (Babylonian Talmud, Horayot 12a; Chajes 1928). The thick wicks made from cemetery measurements helped to ensure that the flame would burn for a full day.

Cite this: Annabel Gottfried Cohen, “Songs and prayers for cemetery measuring (and what we can learn from them)” https://pullingatthreads18.wordpress.com/2024/08/02/songs-and-prayers-for-cemetery-measuring-and-what-we-can-learn-from-them/

Sources:

Joffe, Judah Achilles and Mark, Yudel, (eds). Der groyser verterbukh fun der yidisher shprakh, (New York, 1961)

Fayvushinksy, A. “Pruzhener Folklor”, in Bernshteyn (ed.), Pinkes fun finf fartilikte kehiles. Buenos Aires,1958. Excerpt translated by Annabel Gottfried Cohen.

Rabbi Tuviah Gutman Rapoport ‘Parents and grandparents and the biography of a generation’, Yizker Bukh Koriv, (Tel Aviv, 1955). Trans. Annabel Gottfried Cohen.

Chajes,Chaim. ‘Gleybungen un minhogim in farbindung mitn toyt’ (Beliefs and customs  connected to death), Filologishe shriftn, 2, Vilna, 1928.

Tuszewicki, Marek. A Frog Under the Tongue: Jewish Folk Medicine in Eastern Europe. Liverpool University Press, 2021. Trans. Jessica Taylor-Kucia. 

Weinreich, Max. Shtaplen: fir etyudn tsu der yidisher shprakhvisnshaft un literatur geshikhte, (Rungs: four studies in Yiddish linguistics and literary history). Wostok, Berlin, 1923. Extract translated by Annabel Gottfried Cohen.

Weissenberg, S. “Das Feld Un Das Keywermessen” (Cemetery and grave measuring), Mitteilungen zur jüdischen Volkskunde, Neue Folge, 2. Jahrg., H. 1 (17).1906. Trans. Annabel Gottfried Cohen

Weissler, Chava. ‘“For the Human Soul Is the Lamp of the Lord”: The Tkhine for “Laying Wicks” by Sarah Bas Tovim’, in Polin: Studies in Polish Jewry Volume 10: Jews in Early Modern Poland, ed. Gershon David Hundert (Liverpool University Press, 1997), https://doi.org/10.3828/liverpool/9781874774310.003.0002.