Posting Date: July 14

So far you’ve met Aviva and her mother Miryam. Today I want you to meet the man whose vow set the whole emotional spine of “Bring Us Home” in motion — Aviva’s grandfather, Saba Elan.

Who is Saba Elan?

Before the exile, Saba Elan was the chief harpist of the Temple in Jerusalem. For forty years, he played beneath the singers in the temple courts — including, in the show’s opening moments, his own daughter Miryam, when she was just a teenager. He’s gruff. He’s proud. And underneath all of that, he’s tender in a way he’d never admit to out loud.

When the city falls, he’s the one who grabs Miryam’s hand and tells her — as soldiers close in — “They can take the city. They cannot take what you carry in here.”

That line is basically Saba Elan’s entire character in one sentence.

The vow

When the exiles arrive at the riverbank in Babylon, Saba Elan does something that becomes one of the central images of the whole show. He unwraps the harp he carried all the way from Jerusalem — the same harp from the Temple — and he hangs it in the willow trees.

And he makes a vow: he will not play it. Not for gold. Not for safety. Not to entertain his captors. Not one note — until the day they go home.

One by one, other exiles follow him, hanging their own instruments in the willows, until the trees are heavy with silent harps and lyres. It’s one image, but it does so much work — it’s grief and protest and worship all at once.

“By the Willows”

This is Saba Elan’s signature song, and it’s drawn almost directly from Psalm 137 — the overseers mock the exiles, demanding they sing “songs of Zion” for entertainment, and the elders respond with total silence. Saba Elan stands, says nothing, and simply looks at the man demanding a performance. That silence becomes the most powerful thing in the scene.

I love writing moments where the most dramatic choice a character makes is to do nothing. Saba Elan’s silence isn’t weakness. It’s the loudest thing in the room.

The promise to a sleeping baby

There’s a quieter scene — one of my favorites in the entire show — where Saba Elan sits by the fire with baby Aviva. He’s gruff with Miryam, as always, but the moment the baby’s hand closes around his finger, something in him cracks open. He makes her a promise: that harp comes down on one day, and one day only — the day they go home. And when that day comes, he’s going to teach her every song Babylon tried to make them forget.

He thinks she’s asleep. He says it anyway. That’s Saba Elan.

When the vow finally gets kept — sort of

I don’t want to spoil too much here, because there’s a moment near the end of the show involving Saba Elan, that harp, and Aviva that genuinely gets me every time I work on it. Let’s just say: keeping a vow for seventy years doesn’t always mean you’re the one who gets to finish it. Sometimes keeping the vow is passing it on.

I’ll save the rest for the “Behind the Song” post on this one.

Tell me about your “Saba Elan”

💬 Comment below — do you have someone in your life — a grandparent, an elder, a mentor — who held onto something on principle for years, even when it cost them?

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Tomorrow: the one character in this story drawn straight from Scripture — Daniel.