Cantors Assembly Journal of Synagogue Music

RENEW HE OLD, SANCTIFY THE NEW
Notes from My Tenth Trip lb Israel

MAX WOHLBERC

The attraction of Israel does not diminish. If anything, its
magnetism increases. Jerusalem becomes more precious with each
visit. Every step on its cobbled streets, every glance at its ancient
walls arouses one's emotions and excites one's senses. Life, it would
seem, acquires a new dimension with a journey to Israel.

This does not mean that Utopia has arrived there and every
source of annoyance has been eliminated. One accustomed to nor-
mally efficient service is inevitably annoyed by patent carelessness
and purposeless delays. One exposed to Western standards of com-
munication, sanitation, business and social behavior is often startled
by the unexpected appearance of their eastern counterparts.

Still, this is the healthiest, most cultured, only democratic state
in the Near East, and it is Israel, our beloved homeland, the source
of our spiritual strength. (If, in addition to praise, these lines con-
tain also criticism as well as some suggestions, please remember they
reflect the views of one who is simultaneously an American, a con-
servative Jew and a Hazzan.)

Although I wished to spend my entire month's vacation in
Jerusalem, I managed to visit such magnificant new settlements as
Ma'aleh Adumim, Efrata and Kiryat Arba whose strategic locations
are of inestimable value to the security of Israel. The planning and
architecture of these, as well as of such Jerusalem suburbs as Gilo
and French Hill, are superb. The views of and from these new
projects are invariably breathtaking.

It was also my privilege to visit (near Nazareth) the first
Mesorati (Conservative) kibbutz, Hanaton. Still unfinished and in
need of considerable financial support, it is located in a beautiful
area and holds great promise of success. Additional source of pride
in this venture may be shared by my readers in the knowledge that
Yossi Zucker, a recent graduate of the Cantors Institute, his dear
wife and new baby are members of this kibbutz. As Yossi has evident
gifts for composition, it is hoped that some of his hofesh will be
spent creatively in that area.

Dr. Max Wohlberg is a distinguished hazzan. teacher, lecturer and
scholar. He is a veritable encyclopedia of hazzanut. He has served as Pro-
fessor of Hazzanut at the Cantors Institute of the Jewish Theological Seminary
of America for one quarter century.

Currently the general concerns of Israelis lie in such areas as:
economy, inflation, involvement in Lebanon and elections. These are
serious matters and must be dealt with by the Israelis exclusively.
However, as an addendum to the elections, the religious parties pro-
posed a change in the Who Is A Jew law. Their proposal would pre-
empt exclusive authority to declare who is — and who is not — a
Jew to the Orthodox Rabbi. This dangerous, arrogant, potentially
divisive proposal requires some comments.

Last week, in his acceptance speech in Dallas, sandwiched be-
tween generous doses of juvenile wisecracks and palpable jingoism,
President Reagan ventured to suggest that indeed religion and poli-
tics do mix. Risking the epithet subversive (or intolerant) I cate-
gorically state that they should not mix. Witness in Israel the
deplorable, degrading descent of representatives of religion into the
muck of petty, partisan, political plots.

Painful though it be, it must be declared that one imbued with
an enlightened, liberal view and an abiding attachment to our
religion is apt to be hurt, insulted and shamed by the callous, con-
ceited, politicized views, words and acts of so many of our Orthodox
brothers. Parenthetically, one also notes with regret the complacent
tolerance of these reactionary views by, in the main, a religiously
uncommitted, liberal population. All too many doubtlessly devout
Jews readily accepting material subvensions of all sorts are yet
sparing in their civic affiliations.

In tangentialy related areas we see the bulk of Hassidic and
Agudah groups persist in the retention of obsolete habits while
evading contemporary usage. Notwithstanding the hot Israeli sum-
mer they stubbornly cling to the shtreimel and kapote, acquired in
Poland some four hundred years ago but ignore the correct pro-
nunciation of our ancestral tongue acquired four thousand years ago.
Thus, on Israeli radios one regularly hears old and new hassidic
songs whose texts are improperly pronounced and incorrectly
accented.

The next gilgul (appearance) of some of these songs may be in
some otherwise well organized synagogue whose rabbi or cantor in
search of ruah (spirit) introduced it failing to realize that its short-
comings may render it "an ill-wind that turns none to good".

In all fairness I should make it clear that I do not criticize such
groups as, for example, the Hapoel Hamizrachi. While we may dis-

agree on some matters of importance, its devotion to Israel, its com-
mitment to its security and welfare are beyond question. My respect
is unbounded for such pioneers of religious Zionism as the saintly
Harav Kook. Rabbis Meir Berlin (Bar Man), Ze'ev Gold (the latter
succeeded by my brother Harry, of blessed memory). They were
ohavei Yisrael, bent on strengthening, not dividing, our people. For,
let us not forget, the attempt to revise the Who Is A Jew law is an
attempt to disenfranchise Conservative and Reform Jews, to, in
fact, invalidate our J ewishness and, in the process, gain greater
political favor for the Orthodox establishment.

In the matter of conversions, I suspect that the true concern
of our Orthodox brothers is not how it is done but by whom. It
would seem that conversions done by Rabbis X who was imprisoned
for serious offenses involving nursing homes, Y who stole a number
of sacred scrolls and hundreds of library books, Z who "solicited"
clients for a loanshark, the (step) father of X, a rebbe, involved
in smuggling narcotics secreted in volumes of the Talmud — their
conversions, since they were Orthodox, were valid. But those of such
eminently learned Conservative Rabbis as Agus and Bokser, for
example, were not. Preposterous. Conversions by Reform rabbis,
including the scholarly Tuvia ben Horin of Har El whom I was just
privileged to meet, would be ignored. Visualize for a moment the
catastrophic calamity, communal and familial upheaval theAmerican
J ewish community would have to face.

As for scholarship, a requisite automatically assumed for the
Orthodox, a recent experience may be illustrative. At a discussion
on halacha the Orthodox representative chanced to quote a frequently
appearing Talmudic phrase: Tinok shenishbah, a captive child. He,
however, pronounced it as shenishbar. Some of us thought that it
was merely a slip of the tongue. But to compound his ignorance
he proceeded to translate it as "a broken (sic) child".

Enough, however, of related matters, it is time to turn to
matters solely musical. To pave the way some seemingly unrelated
episodes will be of help.

1. A leisurely Friday afternoon found me listening to a radio
interview of the enormously popular Sephardi singer, Yehoram Gaon.
As his illustrations included Pavarotti (with the concluding measures
of Che gelida manina), Sinatra and Stevie Wonder, the intent of
his remarks eluded me at first. However with the inclusion of a

number of charmingly performed Sephardi songs, it soon became
clear that Gaon wished to stress the importance of "successful com-
munication." While the multi-colored and many-leveled illustrations
were well chosen, I was both surprised and humbled at the fact
that most "J ewish" songs cited were unknown to me.

2. On a visit to the library on the Givat Ram campus of the
Hebrew University, I chanced to pick up the October 1925 issue of
Teatron Veamanut, a monthly reflecting the concerns of the artists
in Eretz Israel.

In an article noting the opening of the Conservatory for Haz-
zanut in Jerusalem, S. Rosowsky states: "with deep faith in the
eternally creative, religious spirit of our people it is my firm con-
viction that we stand at the threshold of the flowering of our
liturgical music. Both our undying spirit as well as our fortunate
opportunity in acquiring and getting to know the oriental elements
of our people's musical heritage which are being revealed to us on
every step are causes of confidence. These are, without doubt, the
new wells, the sources of creativity of our liturgical song. Eretz
Israel is destined to serve as prime cause in the creation of our
music."

3. In our long, eventful history we have frequently seen the
emergence of a small Jewish community in gaining renown due to
its scholastic preeminence. It will suffice to name such towns as
Yavneh, Sura, Pumbeditha, Mainz, Troyes, Slobodka and Wolozhin.
Now juxtapose to those the J ewish communities of the United States.

For the first time in our history approximately six million J ews
are gathered in one (free) country. Yet no scholastic preeminence
is ascribed to this group. As a matter of fact — speaking of matters
musical — while Spain, Italy, Germany, France, Lithuania have
left their imprint on J ewish music, the influence of the United States
is minimal and at times deplorable. J azz, rock and pseudohassidic
are frequently utilized elements. In our nusah, as well as in our
cantillation, the Lithuanian tradition dominates.

Furthermore, although Israel may be considered the strongest
link in the composition of our peoplehood, its spirit, the quality
and mood of its being and living, the nature of its melos finds no
echo, no reflection in the music of our synagogues. I am, of course,
discounting the occasional use of a Sephardi tune for Adon Olam or
Yigdal. My concern is nusah itself. That one should consider others
(places, people) in one's prayers is evidenced by such texts as
Aheinu kol bet Yisrael, Veliyrushalayim, Yekum Purkan, etc.

Assuming the validity of my thesis, my next step is to ascer-
tain which melodic motifs are native to Israel. As far as the edot
hamizrah, the eastern communities are concerned, we must acknowl-
edge that Rosowsky's admonitions were not heeded and, excepting
for a few specialists, their music is still an enigma to most of us.
I was therefore anxious to hear if some uniquely Israeli quality can
be discerned in the Western-Ashkenazi synagogue in Israel.

To this end I attended Sabbath services (all in Jerusalem) in
the Great Synagogue (Orthodox), the M'sorati (Conservative), Har
El (Progressive), Hebrew Union College (Reform), Mevakshei
Derech (originally Reconstructinnist, independent and intellectually
challenging) and the Italian (traditional) synagogue. While ex-
cepting the last, named, all were conducted with professional com-
petence, some specific description may be in order.

The M'sorati service on Agron Street, smoothly led by capable
cantor, Dov Kaplan, is an exact replica of what you would hear in
the average American Conservative synagogue. In the Great Syna-
gogue, the truly talented Cantor, Naftali Herstig, sang beautifully
a service which would be at home in, say, Beth El in Boro Park,
accompanied by a male-choir, efficiently conducted by Eli Jaffe,
singing familiar music, tastefully arranged by a gifted young musician,
Raymond Goldstein, who is also on the faculty of Rubin Academy.
The choir, incidentally, is one of the four decent choruses in Israel.
At Har El a young man (a student?) with a fine baritone chanted
a service familiar to most, Reform congregations in the United States
including at Hebrew Union College in Jerusalem. The service at
Mevakshei Derech, while including liturgically innovative elements
did not deviate from what is generally considered traditional Western
music.

To sum up: the Israeli-Ashkenazi synagogue functions musically
on nusah it inherited in lands of the galut and has as yet not de-
veloped a quality uniquely Israeli. Consequently, at the moment,
Israel has nothing native to offer us as far as synagogue music is
concerned.

We, in the United States, who would wish to incorporate some
Israeli quality into our nusah have, therefore, a choice: We can
wait until a new native musical pattern will emerge in Israel or
we can attempt to create a formula, pattern or style that will have
a quality peculiar to Israel. Choosing the first alternative we expose
ourselves to the likelihood that a haphazard, probably lamentable

growth of nusah will include influences one would wish to keep out
of the realm of liturgy.

A half a century ago the renowned Rabbi Israel Leventhal
published a book of sermons entitled "Steering Or Drifting." That,
essentially, is the choice we face. Should we do nothing, pay no
attention to the enormously exciting kibbutz galuyot in our ancient
homeland, pay no heed to the multicolored, rainbow-hued, odd-
sounding melismas heard in unpretentious places of worship or
decide to study, analyze, organize this rich musical heritage and
endeavor to incorporate characteristic elements of it into our liturgical
music. The latter choice would, needless to add, serve as a unifying
factor, bringing about closer affinity between the now distant groups.

I am, of course, also aware of the need to retain significant
characteristic elements of individual groups but it is patently de-
sirable to establish a link between the formerly separated, now
reunited branches of our people. Since no such attempt was or is
now being made in Israel it should clearly be the duty of the largest
Jewish community to inaugurate attempts for such a delicate and
worthwhile endeavor.

To test the validity of this thesis I discussed it during my
recent stay in Israel with a number of writers, cantors, rabbis and
musicians. These included Dr. Israel Adler, Raymond Goldstein,
Akiva Zimmerman; Cantors Dov Kaplan, Naftali Herstig, Robert
Segal, Chaim Feifel, Gabriel Berkowitz; Rabbis A. E. Millgram
(author of Jewish Liturgy), Arthur Green (of M'sorati Congrega-
tion), Philip Spectre (for 17 years Rabbi in Ashkelon, now Executive
Director of M'sorati movement), Gerson S. Levy (Past President
Rabbinical Assembly) and Jack Cohen (writer, teacher, scholar,
formerly with Reconstruct! on ists, Hebrew University, moving spirit
of Mevakshei Derech) .

While the responses of the above individuals varied greatly
their agreement with my thesis was practically unanimous. If, in
the future, an attempt will be made to deal with this problem and
the organization of a related group will be sought, the presence of
at least the last three in such a group will prove most rewarding.

When I was a child, I clearly recall, an embroidered Mizrah
graced our eastern wall, a beautifully illustrated book containing
Palestinian pressed flowers, rested on our coffee table and, above
the doorway, a twelve inch rectangular spot remained unpainted.

This served as a constant reminder that we mourn the loss of state
and sanctuary. On Tisha B'Av I shed bitter tears for the ancient,
distant land which had for me a tangible, perhaps partially sub-
liminal reality.

This past Tisha B'Av I joined a group of Moroccan Jews for
morning kinot We sat on the ground, huddled close together near
the Western Wall. We read the heartrending words but no tears
were shed. We were at the Wall, near Mount Moriah where the
Temple stood. We were in J erusalem, the golden, the blessed. We
were at home, in Israel, the land of our fathers, in our land.

It is this blessed reality that requires recognition and expression
when we sing before the Almighty. This tiny land that looms so
large in the essence of our existence needs to be heard when we
raise our voices in prayer and in praise.

As for the realization of this proposal, I see no overnight success.
Persistent efforts in selection and application seem to be called for.
Ultimately, I hope, distinct musical elements will penetrate the
nusah of every J ewish group thus bringing closer the reality of an
am ehad.

The saintly Rabbi Abraham I. Kook in viewing the future, coined
an unforgettably succinct phrase: Hayashun yithadeish vehehadash
yitkadeish, the old will be renewed, and the new made holy. That
is what I seek in our music. It seems to be a dream well worth
pursuing.

AISTIECEDANTS TO THE GONZAGA COURT
OF SAIOMONE ROSSI'S TIME

Mantua, in Italy's northeast, is a remarkable small city with a
history enriched by creativity in the arts and letters — and humane
values. Its origins can probably be traced to the Etruscans and its
development to the Romans.l Today, it is a municipality numbering
65,000 people. Yet, during the Renaissance, with a population of
only 30,000 ". . . it was the ducal court of Mantua where the
art-loving House of Gonzaga assembled around them a plethora of
artists, of all categories, that made this provincial town a mag-
nificent center of intellectual activities in sixteenth century ltaly."2
At, the same time, the creative output of the Gonzaga court found
its way to courts all over Europe where it was admired, studied,
emulated and, in the case of music, performed.

The lineage of writers in Mantua can be traced to Virgil (70-19
B.C.) a gentle poet, who loved nature and solitude.3 He was born
at Ande, a village near Mantua.4 Henderson establishes Pietole, an-
other hamlet outside of Mantua, as his birthplace.5 While Virgil
wrote in Latin he is referred to as "... the Italian literary
diety ...".6

By the sixteenth century we encounter the writing of another
Mantuan native which was to have a far-reaching effect upon the
courts of Renaissance Europe. The Book of the Courtier by Count
Baldesar Castiglione is perhaps the most important treatise of the
period on the education of a gentleman. Its first printing took place
in April 1528 at the Aldine Press in Venice.7 More than 140 editions
of this classic bear witness to the fact that it was well-received in
various countries.8 First editions of the work appeared in Barcelona
(1534), Paris (1537), London (1561), Wittenberg (1561) and
'Munich (1566). 9 The English, however, did not stop with the Sir
Thomas Hoby translation of 1561. In 1622, an English version of
the book appeared. This was Henry Peachham's 'The Compleat
Gentleman." 10

Castiglione was born into a noble family in Mantuan territory
on December 6, 1478; his parents were Count Cristoforo Castiglione

Daniel Chazanoff has written extensively on his research into the life
and creativity of Salomone Rossi. Several years ago he received a grant from
the National Foundation of J ewish Culture to continue his work. This past
summer he spent some eight weeks in Italy continuing his investigation of Rossi
thanks to a grant from the Foundation of the J ewish Community Federation
of Rochester, New York and a stipend from the Cantors Assembly.

11

and Luigia Gonzaga, a relative of Mantua's ruler." After receiving
a classic education in Latin and Greek at Milan, he entered the
service of the Gonzaga Court. 12 For a time he served at the Court
of Urbino but returned to Mantua where he married the daughter
of Count Guido Torello.13 He",., resided alternately at Mantua
and Rome, where he served as Mantuan ambassador, and where his
learning, wit, taste, gentle disposition and integrity earned for him
an almost unique eminence at the papal court."14 He died in Toledo
on February 7, 1529 while on a diplomatic mission, but he is buried
in the church of the Madonna delle Grazie outside of Mantua; his
tomb was designed by the great artist and friend, Guilio Romano.15

Considering the time in which he lived, Castiglione exhibited
awareness and insight which anticipated future developments in
music and music education. His writing established guidelines to
be followed by the Courtier.

First, he favored exposure to a variety of music with the state-
ment, "Consider music, the harmonies of which are now grave and
slow, now very fast and of novel moods and means; yet, all give
pleasure, albeit for different reasons ..."16 Then, he recommends
a dual approach to harmony i.e., ear training to develop perception
and a balance between consonance and dissonance in writing:
Harmony, he felt, could be more quickly and better perceived, with
greater pleasure, by trained ears. 17 He also cautioned against re-
peated consonances which would exhibit "... a too affected har-
mony ..."18 By introducing dissonance, "... that discord of
the second or seventh . . .',19 we create contrast "... whereby
our ears are held in suspense, and more eagerly await and enjoy
perfect consonances . . "20 Finally, in the area of applied music,
Castiglione advocates an acquaintance with singing, keyboard in-
struments and the viols (the Renaissance stringed instruments which
preceded the violin family). He regarded as beautiful music:

1. ". , . to sing well by note, with ease .. "21 which implied
both good voice quality and the ability to read music.

2. and much more effective then the above, "... to sing to
the accompaniment of the viol ..."22 because ". . . we note and
observe the fine manner and the melody with much greater atten-
tion when our ears are not occupied with more than a single voice
. . "23 This statement alludes to the opera aria which arrived about
75 years after The Courtier.

3. ". . . above all, singing to the viol by way of recitative

12

seems to me most delightful, which adds to the words a charm and
grace that are very admirable. "24 In this, and the above statement,
Castiglione hints at what was to become two of the three musical
components found in the early opera i.e., the recitative and aria.
The third component, the orchestral interlude, probably began by
combining the keyboard with strings. Referring to the keyboard
he says, "All keyed instruments also are pleasing to the ear . . .
and upon them one can play many things that fill the mind with
musical delight."25 The string quartet by definition is the classic
string chamber music form born in the 18th century. It also specifies
the timbre of two violins, one viola and one cello. Yet, at the be-
ginning of the 16th century, Castiglione says, "And not less charming
is the music of the string quartet, which is most sweet and ex-
quisite. "% During his lifetime, a string quartet meant nothing more
than four instruments of the viol family with no established litera-
ture. Viol performers played freely transcribed vocal compositions,
folk songs and folk dances.

Summarizing his thoughts on applied music, Castiglione says,
'The human voice lends much ornament and grace to all these in-
struments, with which I would have our Courtier at least to some

To understand the life of Salomone Rossi, it is important that
one gain some knowledge of the antecedents which brought about
the Gonzaga court of his time. From the beginning of the 15th
century, we have evidence that the Mantuan dukes recognized and
recruited talent, encouraged scholarship and provided the resources
for both to develop. In fostering creativity, the Gonzagas protected
Christian and J ew alike from the oppressive measures of the Church
within their domain. Not only did they permit the settlement of
Jews in Mantuan territory but invited talented Jewish writers,
actors and musicians to participate at their court. 28 By the first
half of the sixteenth century, Jewish singers, instru metal ists and
composers were in the employ of the Mantuan dukes. 29 The oldest
Torah Ark of the Jewish world dates from this period (Mantua,
1543). Its permanent location is in the museum of the Italian
Synagogue, J erusalem.

The great tradition which led to the ducal court of Salomone
Rossi's time can be traced to the reign of Gianfrancesco Gonzaga
(1407-1444), ". . . who had a love for ancient history and verse."30

13

His interest combined with a commitment to his childrens' educa-
tion led him to invite the distinguished scholar, Vittorino da Feltre
(1379-1446) to hs court in 1425.31 Da Feltre is referred to as the
father of teaching, whom Rabelais used as his model for the tutor
of Gargantua.32 The Gonzaga lord placed the children in his charge,
alloting a separate villa to the master and his pupils. 33 From this
beginning a great school evolved hecause its doors were open to
students from various parts of Italy. 34 The school's admission policy
also reflected the humane values of the Gonzagas; some students
were often ". SO poor that they had to be provided by their
patron with clothes and food . ."35 All children, regardless of
social or economic station, were treated with respect ". , , in that
little community of the intellect . ."36 which appreciated sincerity
and industry. In this setting, a love of learning and artistic taste
developed. 37

Gianfrancesco's love for ancient history and verse, coupled with
his encouragement of scholarship in those areas led to the first lyric
drama with a secular subject.38 The "Favola di Orfeo" (Fable of
Orpheus) by Angelo Poliziano was produced in Mantua around
1483.39 This led in turn to the birth of the opera as an art form. The
essential ingredients i.e., verse, music and action were present in
both the Medieval liturgical drama and the Renaissance secular
drama.40 In both cases, however, music was only incidental to the
production. If the term orchestra can be applied here, it meant a
small body of musicians whose total number and instrumentation
varied from production to production. Monteverdi's first opera,
Orfeo, produced in Mantua in 1608 used an orchestra of 36 pieces.41
By design, music (instrumental and vocal) became an integral part
of the new form, opera, and a new period of music, the Baroque.

Monteverdi's "Orfeo" (Orpheus) was inspired by "... the
study of Greek thought and ideals, as obtained from ancient, works
. . "42 which became popular among cultivated Italians. It is not
a coincidence then, that the first opera produced in Florence, in 1600,
was on a Greek subject closely related to Orpheus i.e., Euridice.43
The work was written by Jacopo Peri and Ottaveo Rinuccini who
were members of a group known as the Camerata.44 The Camerata
was made up of composers, poets, singers and amateurs who tried
to create a dramatic form using the Greek drama as a model.45
Their aim was to heighten the effect of poetry through music.46
What evolved was the recitative or, as Bauer says, "Opera was an
accidental by-product !"47 The orchestra at the first performance

of Euridice numbered only nine musicians including one harpsichord,
three chitarrone (large guitars), one viola da gamba (predecessor
of the cello), one theorbo (bass lute) and three flutes.48

Even though Florence was the birthplace of the opera, it was
in Mantua that Monteverdi became the first great composer of the
new form. As pointed out by this writer, stage music in Mantua
enjoyed a long tradition as incidental to the Medieval religious play
and the Renaissance secular drama. In Monteverdi's hands, the
words, music and action became an integrated production which
was aided by the presence of Salomone Rossi, who was concert-
master or director of the 36 piece orchestra (it was referred to as
a "company of musicians" or "band of musicians" at that time)
for Orfeo probably used Baroque violins rather than Renaissance
viols; this added dramatic power not present in the Florentine opera
which had an orchestra of nine using only Renaissance instruments.
A line from one of Amy Lowell's poems expresses the difference in
succinct fashion. She says, "Only a vigorous tree has the vitality
to put forth new branches". 49

In the context of Orfeo' s first performance many of the musicians
were Jews in keeping with the atmosphere which permeated the
Gonzaga Court.

The adage, "like father, like son" is certainly a truism in the
case of Lodovico Gonzaga (1448-1478), son of Gianfrancesco and
pupil of Vittorino. He emulated his father's humanistic traits by
distributing land to the poor peasants. 50 To improve transportation
and communication, he had a new port dug on the Mincio River
which flows through Mantua; the Mincio begins at Lake Garda,
about 40 kilometers north of Mantua and joins the Po River, south
of the city. 51

Looking ahead to the time of Salomone Rossi (c. 1570-1628), founder
of the first school of violinists, the river was probably the means
by which the early violins of the Brescian and Cremonese schools
were shipped to the Court of Mantua.

Another improvement instituted by Lodovico was the paving of
Mantua's streets. 52 In the realm of the arts and letters, he con-
tinued the trend established by his father when he invited the poet,
Filelfo and two great painters, Andrea Mantegna and Guilio RomanO
to join the court. 53 Montegna was brought from Padua and resided
in Mantua from 1460 to his death in 1506.54 Romano was brought

16

from Rome; most authorities agree that his noblest monument is
the Palazzo Te which displays his skill as architect, painter and
sculptor.55 A number of his paintings are also in the ducal palace.56
Lodovico's reverence for learning and the arts is also demonstrated
by the protection which he gave to "... the humanist Politian,
the Florentine architect Leone-Battista Alberti and the Paduan
Painter Mantegna, who quarrelled with neighbors and tried to drive
out the priests, whom he disliked." 57

Travellers entering the city of Mantua from any direction are
greeted by signs which read: Mantua City of Art. This is in no
small part due to the influence of Isabella d'Este (1474-1539),
daughter of the Duke of Ferrara and wife of Gianfrancesco II (1484-
1519), Duke of Mantua. One of the most imposing figures of the
Renaissance, she was a great patron of the arts. Isabella "...
gathered a vast collection of the paintings, sculptures, medallions,
silver, jewels, plates, tiles, books, manuscripts, and musical instru-
ments of the period, as well as the products of the antique.58 She
was surrounded by the chief painters and poets of the time who
either worked for her or were her friends.59 As a person, she received
praise from many, including Castiglione, for her beauty, intellect
and moral qualities.60

Isabella's education included learning to play the lute and clavi-
chord, and listening to the sounds of various Renaissance instruments
i.e., viols, zinkes, dulcimers, kitharas, rankets and cromornes.61 At the
age of seven she was taught to dance by the famous master of the
period, Guglielmo Ebreo (William the Jew) of Pesaro.62 His "Treatise
on the Art of Dancing" (Trattato del'arte del ballo) is the most
important manual of its kind in the 15th century. 63 A poem by the
humanist, Giovanni Mario Filelfo lauds Gugielmo Ebreo as follows:

How great have been the honors on him poured
And guerdons for his dancing and his skill,
By many a king and marquess, duke and lord ...64

The attitude of Isabella d'Este toward Jews was probably formed
during her childhood as daughter of Duke of Ferrara. Later, in
1495, after an anti-Semitic incident involving a Mantuan Jew,
Daniele Norsa, Isabella ". . . roundly reproved an anti-Semitic
preacher."65 A letter to one of her vicars stated: "Tell the priest
to do his job of preaching, hearing confessions, and other tasks
necessary to the soul's health, but he is not to touch the Jewish

question. I don't want him to preach sermons which are more
scandalous than useful."66

In short, Isabella became the Duchess of Mantua as "...
a lettered and artistic woman . ."67 and was regarded as ". . .
the First Lady of the world" 68 at age 54 when the Courtier of
Castiglione was published.69

It is with this background that we usher in the life and times
of Salomone Rossi, Ebreo — a father of the musical Baroque. An
important musical figure of his period, yet overlooked by music
history, he was responsible for a number of innovations which
established new frontiers in music.

FOOTNOTES

1 Michelin Tourist Division (ed.), Guide to Italy (London: Michelin Tire
Co., Ltd., 8th Edition), P. 136.

2 Alfred Sendrey, The Music of the Jews in the Diaspora (New York:
Thomas Yoseloff, 1970). P. 255.

Michelin, loc. cit.

4 I bid

;W. J. Henderson. Some Forerunners of Italian Opera (London: John
Murray, 1911), P. 35.

6 Ibid.

/Count Baldesar Castiglione. The Book of the Courtier. Translated by
Leonard Eckstein Opdycke (New York: Horace Liveright. Third Edition,
1929), Translator's Preface, P. vi.

5 Ibid.

9 Ibid.

10 Morrison Comegys Boyd, Elizabethan Music and Music Criticism (Phila-
delphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1940). P. 337.

11 Castiglione, op. cit., P. 309.

12 Ibid.

13 Ibid.

16 Castiglione,

op.

cit..

P.

49.

17 Castiglione.

op.

cit.,

P.

88.

18 Castiglione,

op.

cit.,

P.

37.

19 Ibid.

20 Ibid.

21 Castiglione.

op.

cit.

P.

86.

22 Ibid.

24 Ibid.

25 Ibid.

26 Ibid.

17

27 ibid.

28 Sendrey, loc. cit.

29 Ibid.

30 Henderson, op. cit, P. 37.

31 Ibid.

32 Michel in, loc. cit.

33 Henderson, op. cit., P. 37.

34 Henderson, op. cit, P. 38.

35 Ibid.

36 Ibid.

37 Ibid.

38 Henderson, op. cit, P. 52.

39 Ibid.

40 Henderson, op. cit, P. 32.

41 Rupert Hughes. Music Lovers' Encyclopedia (Garden City, New York:
Garden City Publishing Company, Revised and Edited by Deems Taylor and
Russell Kerr, 1947), P. 209.

42 Henderson, op. cit., P. 60.

43Marion Bauer, Twentieth Century Music (New York: G. P. Putnam's
Sons, 1947), P. 17.

44 Bauer, op. cit., P. 16-17.

45 Bauer, op. cit., P. 16.

46 Ibid.

47 Ibid.

4s Bauer, op. cit., P. 17.

49 Bauer, op. cit., acknowledgements, P- vi citing Amy Lowell's Sword,
Blades and Poppy Seeds.

50 Michel in, loc. cit.

51 Ibid.

52 Ibid.

53 Henderson, op. cit. P. 39.

54 Ibid.

55 Ibid.

56 Z bid.

57 Michel in, loc. cit.

58 George R. Marek, The Bed and the Throne: The Life of Isabella D'Este
(New York: Harper and Row Publisshers, 1976), Introduction, P. xvi.

59Castiglione, op. cit, P. 405.

60 Ibid.

61 Marek. op. cit, P. 38.

62 Cecil Roth, The Jews in the Renaissance (New York: Harper and Row,
Publishers. 1965). P. 279.

63 Sendrey, op. cit, P. 250.

64 Roth, op. Cit, P. 277.

65 Marek, op. cit., P. 65

66 Ibid.

67 Michel in, loc. cit.

68 Marek, op. cit., Introduction, P. xvi.

69 Ibid.

18

IN MEMORY OF JAN PEERCE

"J an Peerce, the American tenor who was one of the favorite
singers of Arturo Toscanini, died at the J ewish Home and Hospital
for the Aged in White Plains, New York on Saturday night, December
15, 1984 after a long illness. He was 80 years old.

"For more than 60 of those years, Mr. Peerce was before the
public . . He started his vocal career in 1932 at the new Radio
City Music Hall, made his Metropolitan Opera debut in 1941, re-
mained there for 27 years until 1968, made world tours and appear-
ances in European opera houses at that time — but still refused to
call it quits.

"At an age when most tenors have been long retired, Mr. Peerce
kept on singing, his voice in a remarkable state of preservation.

"He made films, he taught, he recorded, he appeared on tele-
vision talk shows and remained one of the busiest singers before the
public.

... He was a superior stylist, always singing with taste,
always secure technically, never trying for a cheap effect. His scale
was unusually even. He never lost that combination of taste with
vocal splendor. Last year, two of his records were issued and they
show the veteran in his late 70's in brilliant vocal shape, gleefully
hitting top B's with the abandon of a youngster."

So wrote New York Times music critic Harold C. Schonberg in
his five column obituary. We, of the Cantors Assembly, knew J an
Peerce well, individually and collectively. His openness, his cheer-
fulness, his concern for the things that concerned us, and above all
— even more than his spectacular talent — it was his pride in who he
was, where he came from and his love for everything J ewish that
endeared him to us.

His memory will remain for us a blessing and an inspiration.

S.R.

JAN PEERCE: HIS LAST CONCEPT

J EROME KOPMAR

Jan Peerce died on December 15, 1984. However, it was on
Sunday evening, May 2, 1982 that his life as a singer and artist
ended. On that night, J an was the guest artist with the Beth Abra-
ham Youth Chorale in celebration of their tenth anniversary. This
is the story of that memorable evening, now even more memorable
in that it was the last time that J an Peerce, one of the greatest
and most beloved artists of our time, was ever to appear in concert.

When making plans for the Youth Chorale's Tenth Anniversary
Concert, it was my desire that we invite J an Peerce to be our guest
artist. Peerce was a childhood idol of mine and to appear on the
same stage with him would have fulfilled a lifetime's dream. How-
ever, I had never met J an Peerce, and I didn't even know how to
approach this man whom I only knew through his recordings and
the concert and opera performances that I witnessed. How does
one approach an idol? Unable to come up with an answer to this,
I abandoned the plan and began to make other arrangements.

Then, in December of 1981, I received a phone call from Velvel
Pasternak of Tara Publications and Tambur Records inquiring
whether I would be interested in making a recording with J an Peerce
and the Chorale. Of course, the prospect excited me, and a meeting
was set up for the three of us on December 30 at the building of
the Bureau of J ewish Education in New York. I was finally going
to meet J an Peerce.

That meeting is forever etched in my memory as one of the
great experiences of my life. Shortly into the meeting, Jan asked
in his friendly manner, "Where have you been all these years?" J an
had the uncanny ability to make you feel like you were his friend
for years. He was a genial, friendly, and witty person who had
nothing in common with the stereotypical image of a tempermental
world-class artist. When we spoke, it was as if we were lifelong
friends. Thus began the greatest adventure of my professional
career.

While discussing the proposed recording, I inquired whether he
would be interested in performing as our guest at our 10th Anni-
versary Concert. Indeed, he was interested, even excited.

Jerome Kopmar is the hazzan of Dayton's Beth Abraham Synagogue. An
early graduate of the Cantors Institute he has had a distinguished career as
a sheliah tzebbur and as a choral conductor.

20

Jan, however, still wanted to hear the Chorale since he was
unfamiliar with their work and didn't want to get involved in an
artistic endeavor that might not come up to his professional standards.
After hearing some of our recordings and hearing the Chorale in a
concert at the J ewish Theological Seminary, he was impressed enough
to eagerly look forward to the concert.

Although almost seventy-eight at the time, Jan had a busy
and active concert schedule, including a full length recital in Carnegie
Hall. I was somewhat concerned whether he would be able to pre-
pare for a program of music that would be completely new to him
in such a relatively short time. He was not only unfazed by this,
he was even looking forward to the challenge.

After an incredibly busy month prior to our concert in which
J an conducted the Pesach sedarim at the Deauville Hotel in Miami,
a week of performances of "Fiddler on the Roof" in the State of
Washington, and several concerts, J an arrived in Dayton on Wednes-
day, April 27, for rehearsals in preparation for the concert.

Even his arrival for the first rehearsal was memorable. Although
he had planned to arrive in Dayton early in the afternoon so he
would have a chance to relax as well as have a brief rehearsal with
our accompanist, a series of travel problems caused him to arrive
more than an hour after the rehearsal had started. Knowing how
tired he must have been, I suggested that he might just want to
listen and not sing until the following day at the final full rehearsal.
He looked at me somewhat increduously and asked, 'What did I
come here for? I'm ready to sing now."

And so he did! There he was — after traveling for who knows
how many hours, not having had anything substantial to eat all day,
and being very tired — this seventy-eight year old legend ascended
the stage to the applause of the Chorale and orchestra members and
started to sing as if he had been relaxing all day. J ust hearing that
voice, tired as he must have been, sent shivers up my spine. Not
surprisingly, the music was all prepared, and there was no question
that we were all in for a rare and exciting experience.

During the following day, Jan displayed his unbelievable
stamina. After rehearsing with me and the accompanist most of the
morning, Jan felt it wasn't enough and rehearsed for most of the
afternoon as well. With a scheduled three hour rehearsal for that
evening with full orchestra, I was concerned that he might be over-

21

doing it, but the more he worked, the more refreshed he seemed to
become. He thrived on work, the more the better. I was amazed
at. how he worked until he refined every detail and didn't Stop until

he was completely satisfied.

I must admit that I was somewhat intimidated and frightened
about how I would be able to work with this giant. How would I be
able to direct 'Toscanini's favorite tenor?" After all, I had worked
for months in preparing and teaching the music. Some of it I had
lived with for years, and I knew exactly how I wanted it to sound.

However, I had nothing to fear. All during our private rehearsals
whenever a question arose about tempi or other matters, including
interpretation, he would tell me that I was the director and that
my conception was what he would adhere to, especially in those
sections that included both him and the choir. We worked out every
phrase, and every idea was ironed out so that when we got to the
main rehearsal everything would go smoothly. We worked beauti-
fully together. I felt like the student, but he made me feel like the
teacher.

I couldn't help but be aware of the difference between J an Peerce
off the stage and what happened to him once he ascended the stage.
Off stage, he was loquacious, humorous, always telling a story, a
real delight. On stage, however, it was all work. He was J an Peerce
the artist, the consummate pro. His only concern was to make the
music live as best he knew how, and it didn't matter whether he
was working at the Met or with a group of children in Dayton, Ohio.

In order to give a complete report of the last concert of J an
Peerce, I have to digress somewhat to tell of an episode that occurred
between J an and the Chorale members which, I believe, helped to
make the concert the inspired event that it was. It must be under-
stood that to the members of the Chorale the name "J an Peerce"
meant absolutely nothing. When I first told them that they would
be singing with J an Peerce, they looked at me as if to say, "So
what! Who's he?" It was only after they told their parents, that
they began to realize the significance of performing with J an Peerce.
Still, he didn't leave them in much awe. It was strange and perhaps
even a gross case of childish "chutzpah", but, in their minds, he had
to prove himself to them as much as they had to prove themselves
to him. So is the way of children! To their credit, though, J an
didn't treat them like children but rather like fellow artists,

22

During the final rehearsal, J an was bothered that the choir
didn't sing softly enough when they were singing together with him.
At first, he mentioned it quietly to me, and I conveyed it to them,
reminding them that I had spoken to them about this point many
times even before J an arrived in Dayton. Then after he had to tell
them himself two or three times, J an became somewhat irritated
and lashed out at them as only J an could. The kids were appalled,
not so much because he had yelled at them, but because, as I learned
later, they felt that he had usurped my authority. They didn't mind
being yelled at so long as it was I who did the yelling. They genuinely
felt that J an had insulted me and felt bad for me.

From this point, the atmosphere at the final rehearsal was
strained. We got all the music finished to our satisfaction and we
felt we were prepared and ready. But I also sensed that the kids
were disturbed and that I would have to do something about it or
it would effect their performance. I should add that Jan didn't
realize that there was any problem. I was confident that I could
handle the situation, and I didn't want to disturb him by telling
him what was happening.

One would think that after rehearsing for more than seven hours
he would have had enough. Not J an! As we were leaving the syna-
gogue after the rehearsal, J an looked at me and asked, "What time
do we rehearse tomorrow?" I looked at him as if he were crazy.
I was totally wiped out, exhausted beyond words, and here he was
asking about more rehearsals! Not wanting to appear uncaring, I
asked the accompanist to come the following morning, even though
there was no rehearsal scheduled. Again, we worked for more than
two hours. It was, indeed, a relief to know that the following day
was Shabbat so we could all get some well-needed rest.

On Shabbat, J an came to our services but wanted no recogni-
tion. Everyone respected his wishes, and he just blended into the
congregation like any other worshipper. I don't have to relate what
it felt like for me to have him in our synagogue. I don't know what
frightened me more, the concert the following day or having J an
Peerce listen to me daven. He was gracious and very complimentary,
and to have him in our presence was just another thrill in a weekend
of many thrills.

Early the next morning, I got a call from Jan. I should add
that this came after he spent a long evening at our home and didn't
get back to his hotel until well past midnight. When I heard him

23

ask, 'What time do we rehearse today?" I almost dropped the phone.
I told him there was no major rehearsal scheduled. It was our prac-
tice not to rehearse on the day of a concert except for a brief warmup
and a review of some troublesome sections in our music. J an said
he had to rehearse. It was, he told me, his practice to go over the
entire program the day of a concert. No way could we do it, I told
him. Gaining more courage with each passing day, I told him that
there would be no general rehearsal, but if he wished, he could
rehearse alone with the accompanist. And so he did.

It was the morning of the concert that I had to resolve the
problem the kids were having with J an. All during the weekend,
I kept getting reports that the kids were disturbed, especially with
the way they perceived J an was treating me. I called a meeting
prior to our final rehearsal, knowing that Jan wouldn't be there.
At this time, I conducted what I liked to refer to as a learning ses-
sion in which I tried to take a bad situation and make it into a
learning experience. I began by telling them what it meant to have
J an Peerce appear on the same stage with us, and especially what
it meant to me personally. I also told them how hard Jan and I
worked together in our musical preparations for the concert and
how he accepted my musical decisions with respect and understand-
ing. I also told them how touched I was by the way they were trying
to look out for my feelings, but that in this case it was unwarranted.
J an, I told them, regarded them as professionals, and he was only
expecting the best they had to offer. Besides, everything he told
them to do was exactly what I stressed over and over again during
our rehearsals. Little by little, I saw their expressions change, and
I knew that I was beginning to reach them. I also knew that they
would do everything to show that they were equal to his expecta-
tions. When J an arrived for his "private" rehearsal, they spontane-
ously rose to their feet and applauded him. Jan, of course, didn't
know what had happened and I didn't tell him until after the con-
cert. The reason I mention this incident is that I know that it added
even more to the electricity of the concert that night.

The first half of the concert consisted of Charles Davidson's
arrangement of a suite of Shabbat zemirot from Max Wohl berg's
'Yalkut Z'mirotai" and Ralph Schlossberg's "Moods in Celebration."
Peerce would appear in the second half of the program.

From the moment J an came out on stage, everyone knew that
they were present at an occasion of unusual dimension. Aside from

24

presenting the world premiere of a new "Modim" by Sholom Kalib,
commissioned especially for this occasion, Jan would also perform
with the Chorale a new arrangement by Kalib of Todros Greenberg's
"Mizmor Shir Chanukat Habayit," as well as Kalib's "Uvashofor
Godol" and "Uvnucho Yomar." He sang by himself two selections
that have been identified with him, "A Dudele" and "A Din Toire
Mit Gott." He also sang the aria "Lamento di Federico" by Cilea.

As soon as he began to sing, you could hear that he was in
great form. This was not a seventy-eight year old man who was
singing. If you would close your eyes and just listen, you would
think that it was indeed a young man. All the Peerce trademarks
were in evidence: a solid technique, a clear robust voice darkened
by his mature age, a secure and ringing top, and his fabled legato
and control that would have made any singer half his age drool.
In addition to this, there was a fire, an intensity, in his performance
that kept everyone on edge. An electricity prevailed on stage, as
well as in the audience, that is hard to describe.

The choir and he collaborated as if they had sung together for
years. The Chorale was more attentive than I had ever seen them.
They responded to every nuance, and when they sang with Jan they
did so with a sensitivity that even I, didn't know they were capable
of. They certainly deserved the accolate Jan paid them after the
concert in remarks he made to the audience. "These aren't your
average kids singing 'Yankee Doodle.' They're professional."

I recall one delightful episode, amongst many. If there was
one telling fact of Jan's age, it was that he didn't always possess
the endless breath control that he did when he was younger. As a
result, he would sometimes prefer to take things at a quicker tempo
than he might have in his younger years. When we first began re-
hearsing the aria "Lamento di Federico," I conducted it in a tempo
that I felt was correct. Jan asked that I take it faster. I immediately
understood why. He was more comfortable with the faster tempo
because he could better execute the legato line of the aria with his
shorter breath capacity. During the concert, however, Jan was sing-
ing with incredible breath control, and I felt there was nothing he
couldn't handle. When we came to the aria, without consulting
with him, I began conducting it in the slower tempo that I preferred.
We looked at each other, and I tried to convey to him that I knew
what I was doing. He sang the aria beautifully. The control was
flawless, and the legendary Peerce line was displayed in a manner

25

that I'm sure not many people felt a man of that age was capable
of. After he finished and we went back stage, he looked at me,
feigning anger, and said, "Damn it! You're like all the other con-
ductors; you have to have it your way!" Perhaps, but inwardly, I
knew, he was smiling — it was magnificent!

One can't speak of the last selection that Jan sang at the con-
cert without realizing that this was to be the last time that he would
be heard publicly. The last work on the program, Jan's final concert
evocation, was "Modim Anachnu Lath." After a singing career of
more than a half a century, a career that took him to the world's
great concert halls and opera houses where he was acknowledged as
one of the greatest artists of our time, his final statement was a
prayer of thanksgiving to God. The selection was commissioned as
an expression of gratitude for the Chorale's 10th anniversary; it
ended up to be much more significant.

Of course, one looks at the performance of this work with dif-
ferent eyes, knowing what has since transpired. But even at the
time of the performance, I felt this was more than just another
piece of music being performed, albeit a world premiere. Jan per-
formed this extremely difficult piece with a fervor and a passion
that was so representative of him as a person and an artist. After
singing a program that would have taxed just about anyone, not
to speak of someone his age, he sang with a clarity of tone and
expression that was truly remarkable. He ended the piece on a high
"A" that had everyone gasping. Jan didn't know that this was to be
his last performance, but he literally performed as if he knew it
were.

After a tumultuous ovation, Jan spoke to the audience. It is
perhaps these words that I will remember as making the concert
all the more special because it was as if he were saying goodbye
not only to this audience but to all his thousands of audiences. He
made a personal statement that I certainly will always treasure.
He said, "For me, this is a great night. I've had many thrilling
moments. I had fifteen wonderful years with Toscanini, twenty-eight
wonderful years at the Met, and I've sung all over the world with
practically every conductor, and sang every type of music, but I
must tell you that tonight is one of the most fulfilling nights I ever
had — and I had many." He also espoused a final message to the
audience, one that can almost be considered his public epitath:
"Music is something that can only bring happiness to all people, all
faiths, all religions, color or creed. Just make music — good music."

26

As an encore, J an sang what has become his theme song, "Blue-
bird of Happiness". It was this song, corny as it may be, that made
J an Peercea household name in the thirties, when he was a featured
performer at the Radio City Music Hall. It contains a simple philo-
sophical message that J an believed in, thus making it even more
meaningful whenever he sang it. It also shows that with an artist
of his calibre, even an insignificant "pop" song can come out sound-
ing like a great art song. J an Peerce's performing life ended with
the same song that launched it.

When one looks, in retrospect, at the final concert of J an Peerce,
many other factors come to mind. One recalls that it was in a shul
and not in a concert hall. He was singing Jewish music and not
the operatic and classical repertoire that made him famous through-
out the world. He was singing with a J ewish children's choir and
not a great symphony orchestra, and it was in Dayton, Ohio and
not in one of the great world capitols.

Four days after the concert, on Thursday, May 6, J an suffered
his first stroke. All through his recovery, he kept telling everyone
that he wanted to bring "those kids from Dayton" to sing with him
in Carnegie Hall. A concert was scheduled for January 16, 1983,
in Carnegie Hall at which time he was, indeed, planning to sing
again with the Chorale. However, it wasn't meant to be. In J anuary
1983, J an suffered a more debilitating stroke that would leave him
totally incapacitated for almost two years before his death.

This amazing person never gave up. I remember visiting him
after his first stroke, and although he was confined to a wheel chair,
he was still singing, and determined to perform again. This never
happened, and, thus, the performance of May 2, 1982, at Beth
Abraham Synagogue, Dayton, Ohio, with the Beth Abraham Youth
Chorale was J an Peerce's last concert. It is a concert never to be
forgotten.

Editors Note: A recording of this concert has been released by Tambur
Records of Tara Publications (29 Derby Ave., Cedarhurst. N.Y. 11516).

JAN PEERCE: A PERSONAL TRIBUTE

Moses J. Silverman

History has recorded deeds of many conquerors in the military,
in the sciences, and in the arts. Jan Peerce conquered the hearts
of his audiences in the many fields of music, in which he played
an incredibly significant role. In opera, on the concert stage, as
a singer of the songs of our people, the name of Jan Peerce will
always shine like a star. He was acclaimed not only as a great artist,
but, more importantly, he was acclaimed as a fine human being — a
dedicated and proud Jew.

He had millions of admirers all over the world who knew him
through radio, television, stage, motion pictures and recordings.
Thousands of music lovers always thronged to opera houses and to
concert halls to hear Jan Peerce. His every appearance was a hymn
to faith and joy, as in Beethoven's Ninth Symphony which Jan Peerce
had performed numerous times and, particularly, as the favorite
soloist of the great Toscanini.

However, there is something more, which endeared him to those
of us dedicated to our sacred calling. Jan Peerce, always unspoiled
by the adulation of the multitude, gave unstintingly of his precious
gift of song to the God of his fathers. He did not confine his prayers
to the holy days or to the festivals. Wherever he might have been,
in a synagogue in some large city, or in some small bet midrash,
wherever his busy schedule would find him, Jan Peerce wrapped in
the fringed tallit of our faith, and wearing the crown jewels, the
tefillin, could be found leading the congregation in worshsip. This
great operatic artist of our time was creating a special bridge con-
necting music and art with the synagogue, which added a new dimen-
sion tc Jewish music and life. His voice symbolized the chant which
is the soul of our people.

This was a man whose rare vocal endowments added rich musical
beauty to the world. In addition, his devotion to Judaism was a
source of pride and inspiration not only to hazzanim, but to all of
our people, everywhere.

Throughout his singing career of more than half a century, Jan
Peerce was described in many ways. He was called a "national
treasure" — he was called "a living legend" — he was called a
"consummate artist". There is no doubt in the mind of any person
that these accolades were true, but the words that best describe
him to me are "Jan Peerce — a great man, a great human being".

Moses J. Silverman is the distinguished hazzan of Anshe Emet Syna-
gogue in Chicago, a post he has held for over four decades. His long career
includes every aspect of Jewish music and parallels his close friendship for
Jan Peerce.

Jan's eternal devotion to God and his people recalls to mind
this excerpt from Psalm 13:

"As for me, in thy mercy do I trust; my heart shall
rejoice in thy salvation. I will sing unto the eternal,
because he hath dealt bountifully with me."

At my synagogue's celebration of my 40th anniversary, J an
Peerce came to pay me honor and to sing on what was an unfor-
gettable occasion. I spoke of him in this fashion. "What can I say
to my ideal tenor J an Peerce? In spite of geographical limits, I am
proud to say we have been intimate friends for a long, long time.
His magnificent voice, his artistry and his outstanding talent have
always been an inspiration to me. Everyone knows how much
pleasure he has brought to so many people all over the world. To
me, he is the number one tenor of this generation. His busy concert
and operatic schedule is perpetual. Only last night he sang in Tucson,
but this wonderful man came here tonight to celebrate with me in
the spirit of enduring friendship, which I pray will go on for many
years".

We loved him; we respected him. Jan Peerce, naim zemirot
yisrael, the sweet singer in Israel was and is, and will be an enduring
inspiration to us all.

Our sages tell us, that all the blessings that come to a man,
come to him because of his wife. Alice, was the love of J an's life,
the veritable rock on which he built his career, and in the finest sense
of the word, his eyzer k'negdo' — his ever constant helpmate.

At our last convention we honored J an Peerce on the occasion
of his 80th birthday by establishing the Jan Peerce Endowment
Fund. His wife, Alice accepted the plaque which reads "As
an expression of its admiration and affection for one of the greatest
operatic and concert singers of all time in recognition of the constancy
and elegance with which he has carried his J ewish heritage, and in
appreciation of a glittering musical career which has always been
marked by his loyalty and devotion to the music of the J ewish
people. May this fund serve as a continuing source of support to
those who labor in the field of J ewish music and an inspiration to
all who would follow in his footsteps". It was signed on May 22,
1984, lyar 21, 5744 by our President Hazzan Ivan Perl man and by
our Executive Vice President Hazzan Samuel Rosenbaum.

To J an Peerce we say now, 'You were a source of blessedness
and inspiration when you entered our lives and our world. Now that
you have gone from the world you go with blessings from our hearts
and our souls". Whenever your name will come upon our lips, we
will always add the words "zekher tzadik livrakha" "the memory
of this rightous man shall ever be a blessing unto us all".

THE CANTORATE FACES

THE CHALLENGE

OF OUR TIMES

A ONE DAY SEMINAR

Sponsored by

Cantors Assembly
American Conference of Cantors

Wednesday, December 26, 1984

Hebrew Union College Jewish Institute of Religion
One West Fourth Street, New York City

Morning Session: 10:30-1 2:30

Chairman: Cantor Richard Botton, President
American Conference of Cantors

10:30 Introduction of the Theme
Cantor Richard Botton

10:45 "The American Synagogue: A Typology"
Professor Abraham J. Karp,

Philip S. Bernstein Professor of Jewish Studies, University of Rochester

11:15 "The Variety of Cantorial Experience and Practice"
In the Conservative Synagogue:

Hazzan Morton Shames, Temple Beth El, Springfield, Mass.

11:45 In the Reform Synagogue:

Cantor Sarah Sager, Fairmont Temple, Cleveland, Ohio

12:15 Questions

Afternoon Session: 2:00-4:30

Chairman: Hazzan Ivan Perlman, President, Cantors Assembly

2:oo "Looking to the Future: The Way To Go?'
Hauan Samuel Rosenbaum

Executive Vice President, Cantors Assembly

2:30 Cantor Raymond Smolover

Executive Director, American Conference of Cantors

3:oo Questions and Discussion
4:30 Closing Remarks
Minha

INTRODUCTION

Friends, colleagues - allow me to be a shaliach who utters for each of us
a long overdue B 'ruchim Habaim to all of us - as we meet together in a historic
move toward greater friendship and cooperation between chazzanim from the Reform
and Conservative Movements. May the good feelings of today portend many other such
meetings. From this day on let it be known that chazzanim are indivisble in their
dedication to the enhancement of the worship experience. (Shehecheyanu chanted by
all).

The character of the synagogue is changing - along with the quality and
dedication of its leadership. Therefore, today we gather to examine our role in
today's changing synagogue. There are disheartening problems.

We all know of the untrained soloists and song leaders who through congre-
gational ignorance, nonetheless acquire the title hazzan with dubious effect on
the t'filot of the congregation. Our role as the arbiter of liturgical musical
taste is challenged most often by rabbinic and lay Leaders with questionable or
nonexistent musical credentials, and often a total lack of understanding of the
prayer experience. Consequently, we are told that hand clapping, and singing of
the pupular so called "ruach" tunes are substitutes for kavanah and hittaavut.
These people are well meaning - but perhaps ill advised. Are they talking about
prayer? Or campf ire-friendship circles?

My dear friends, there is a Ladino proverb which states, "Consejo de tu
companero toma, y el de tu corason-non dexes." (Take counsel from your companions,
but be true to your own heart) . We have been trained to lead worship. We have been
trained in the music of the liturgy - and while we must listen to our rabbinic and
lay friends, and constantly improve our skills - we must be true to that which our
hearts, talents and skills direct us.

I am heartened by the fact that Solomon Sulzer had similar difficulties -
from which he arose victorious - to the glory of syngogue music and the ministries
of all of us.

I am also heartened by new developments in the cantor-ate which, I believe
will ultimately auger well for us. The applicants for both cantorial schools are

32

at a much higher musical level than ever before. The Hebrew Union College, whose
facilities we use today, has now changed its course of study to a Masters level.
The entrance of our women colleagues into our ranks is also, I believe, a most
positive and fortuitous development.

Yes, it will bring some pain - some inequities - even some initial panic
and insecurity within our ranks, but most assuredly, women are and increasingly
will be joinging as partners in accepting the challenges before us.

My grandmother used to tell me, "Poco hablar es salud para el puerpo"
(To talk little is good for the health of the body.) So I shall conclude by
paraphrasing Abraham Joshua Heschel, The mission of a cantor is to lead in
prayer. The hazzan does not stand before the ark as an artist in isolation, trying
to demonstrate skill or to display vocal feats. The cantor stands before the Ark
not as an individual - but with a congregation. The task is to represent, as well
as to inspire a community. Within the synagogue, music is not an end in itself,
but a means of religious experience. Its function is to help us to live through
a moment of confrontation with the presence of God; to expose ourselves to the
Divine in praise, in self scrutiny, and in hope.

Our meeting today serves as an inquiry as to how the hazzan can so function
: of today's synagogue.

"The Many Faces of the Synagogue .

Professor Abraham J. Karp
Philip S. Bernstein
Professor of Jewish Studies
University of Rochester

e are unable to print a transcript
of Professor Karp's address. He focused his talk on the
developing and changing nature of the American synagogue, from
earliest colonial times to the present, a viewpoint which is
summarized in the following short statement . )

Professor Ernst Simon, of the Hebrew University, Jerusalem,
has pointed to the fasic differences in the retention of Jewish
loyalties in the European and American Jewish communities.
Whereas in Europe, inertia assured Jewish identity, in America
inertia makes for assimilation. In America, a positive Jewish
identity requires an active effort of affiliation or association.
Viewed from the perspective of a community which desires its
survival, in America, each generation has to be rewon for
Judaism. A study of the American Jewish historic experience
discloses that the chosen instrument for the rewinning of the
generations has been the synagogue.

Historically, the synagogue has been the chosen instrument
of American Jewry for establishing and enhancing Jewish associa-
tion, for the transmission of Jewish knowledge, and for the
retention and fostering of Jewish loyalties. Because of this,
and to conform to American realities, it has been, and continues
to be, the central institution in American Jewish life. It has
also, as we shall see, displayed a remarkable ability to adopt
and adapt to contemporary needs and to respond to recurrent
challenges. Because of its ability to reformulate its function,
to reorganize its priorities and to re-orient its program of
activities, it has retained a remarkable vitality.

The old mandates remain; new challenges present themselves,
and the synagogue will need do today what it has done in the
past - to adopt and adapt . In order to do so in an effective
manner, it is well to turn to the historic experience of the

34

"The Variety of Cantorial Experience and Practice"
In the Conservative Synagogue
Hazzan Morton Shames
Temple Beth El, Springfield, Mass.

The conversation goes something like this, "Hello, Cantor
Shames, this is Cantor Moshe Cohen. I really feel as though i
have to speak with you. " "Yes . " "First, I would like to thank
you for all the trouble you went through on my behalf getting me
this job, and I don't really know quite how to say this, but I
am kind of unhappy here. " "What seems to be the problem?" "Well,
to put it simply, there just doesn't seem to be a future for a
cantor here. " "What do you mean, are you serious?" "Oh, sure,
they want me, but for all the wrong kind of reasons. They say
they need a cantor, but then the truth is they don't allow me to
function as one. " He then begins to pour out his pain, his
anxiety and frustrations. I have become a sympathetic listener
to his misery, and I try to offer as best I can a few possible
suggestions like: "Moshe, have you tried this? Moshe. have you
tried that? Chaim had the same problem, and he worked it out in
this way. " "Cantor Shames, I have really tried. " "Well, here
is something else I don't believe you have tried." I give him
another suggestion. "Well, maybe not. I'll certainly do my
best. And thanks again for giving me your time and listening to
me. Shalom. "

I hang up the telephone, but not before 2
that if things do not work out, 1 '11 do my utn
another position.

Each week, in my position as chairman of placement, 1 am
faced by dear colleagues and friends. Men for whom I have respect
and for whom 1 have the greatest regard. Their anxiety is my
anxiety. We are trying to be cantors and yet we are being forced
by our congregations to give up all that we were trained to do as
hazzanim. For the greatest part, our role as shaliah tzibur is
being reduced to that of song leader. There is throughout
American Jewish synagogue life, with few exceptions, an emptiness
in Jewish values, a scorn for authentic nusah a community
illiterate in Jewish study and on a larger scale, a great tension
between the professional staff and the congregation with regard
to the content of Jewish life and ritual .

35

Throughout history, the hazzan was the custodian of the most
spiritual book of the Jew: the siddur, the prayerbook. As a
shaliah tzibur, a name given to him even before that of hazzan,
he became the true emissary and the messenger of our people. Is
there a greater mitzva that we can perform? Therefore, the
hazzan' s role in the life of the Sew has been of ultimate importance.
During the Middle Ages, the names, harav and tzadik, were also
given to cantors. In fact, the titles, rabbi and cantor, became
interchangeable. Since all of these responsibilities were placed
upon the shoulders of the hazzan, the qualifications of great
scholarship, pleasant voice and deep piety were special and
exacting in combination.

In many ways, the well-trained hazzan of today recalls the
hazzan of the Middle Ages. The hazzan as an important member of
the community has returned to Jewish life. But are we allowing
our present-day cantor to act fully as that type of hazzan? I
think not . What is really true today, is that there is no corre-
lation between the skills of the thoroughly trained hazzan and
the expectations of his congregation. There is a conflict between
his professional qualities and the actual requirements of his
position. The great congregations of old produced great cantors.
That is the essential thing; that the great congregations demanded

The congregations of today are undemanding and do not require
the cantor to be great. What do I mean by this? By and large,
they do not ask that the cantor be skilled in nusah, they do not
want to hear the great music of the synagogue. In fact, they are
ignorant of its existence. What they are asking for we understand
to be mediocrity. Our congregations do not challenge the hazzan
on a level of which he can be proud. Rather, they ask that he
limit himself in the practice of his art. And so, as a result,
since the demand is for mediocrity, that is precisely what we
give them.

The cantor of today tends to assume much of the blame for
what is essentially the blame of the congregation. It is not
right for us to sit back and constantly re-examine our faults
without including the American Jewish community which we serve.
In fact, we, hazzanim, have done everything in our power to try

i a pure cantorate. A cantorate respectful of all Jewish
traditional practices fulfilling them with commitment and dignity.
We have established excellent schools of learning to train gifted
young people to enter the profession. We have established can-
torial organizations, not only to provide us with benefits and
security of all kinds, but above and beyond that we wish to pro-
vide for the American and world Jewish community competent
cantors. And, in addition, we in the Conservative Movement have
promoted and encouraged a host of composers and writers to create
new music and literature so that we, as Jews, might establish a
glorious tradition of hazzanut in the 20th century as those be-
fore us established in their time.

It is true that during the 50' s, 60 's and even into the 70 's
we had a golden age of hazzanut with congregations who were thirst-
ing for all that we gave them. Many of us may look back upon the
rock services and folk services as shtuss, as folly: and in a way,
they were that . We did, however, manage to survive and to retain
still the great classic literature which we all treasure and by
which we lived. It was our life-blood, and we preserved it.

Most of us here today experienced that golden age of hazzanut .
This was not the age of the few star hazzanim, such as Pinchik and
Rosenblatt, who were worshipped and idolized. Rather, we have
seen a community of 400 conservative cantors, each trying to serve
God and k'lal Yisrael.

But what are the current practices in synagogues. Are all
the horror stories about our calling true? Or are there indica-
tions that our profession will succeed despite the signs of
congregational apathy and the dilution of the literature.

Let me tell you that many of the stories you hear are real .
I hear about them each day of my life, and in the same breath I
wish to assure you that hazzanut and hazzanim will survive and
flourish. On Shabbat a few weeks ago, i walked out onto the
bima of my synagogue which has a magnificent sanctuary, built for
its membership of 950 families: I looked around at the 100 regular
standbys who make up this Friday evening congregation. This is
not uncommon throughout the united States today: only a few con-
gregations, perhaps in Canada and here and there in the united
States, who still share a link with the European tradition can
boast of a large attendance. Most congregations Suffer unless
a bar or bat mitzva or perhaps a special program is taking place.

37

I thought back some 30 years when I first came to my conqrega-
Then our Friday night attendance was invariably around 400.
.s true that the late Friday night service was an American

nevertheless, there were people in shul . Today the
faltering Friday night service still persists in some congregations
although it is fast disappearing. Where it exists, one often finds
the gimmickery, which includes the guitars and the accordians.
Rabbis and cantors, in order to be part of amkha assume alternate
roles. They leave the pulpit: they do away with various portions
of the service in the siddur and replace it with whatever they
view as a "relevant" service meeting the "needs" of our time. On
Shabbat morning, the practices are often more drastic. The bar
or bat mitzva becomes the main event, and the service of which it
is a part, is designed for a congregation which would not other-
wise attend services. The service is abbreviated to the minimum
with little concern for what has been removed. Most often, there
is no repetition of the amidah either in shaharit or musaf. The
Torah service is shortened; a few hassidic niqunim are admitted
to let the worshipper know that he is in the synagogue; and a
quick exit follows after the benediction in order to head for the
party.

The hazzan finds himself frustrated and unfulfilled. To say
that all cantors in the movement are unhappy or are not being
fulfilled is also not true. There are many men within the pro-
fession who would never change their role as hazzan. In fact,
they enjoy a rich hazzanic career. Their congregations have
embraced them as they have embraced their congregations. They
are loved and respected and bring us all much joy.

In placement we find it difficult to provide all the needy
congregations with cantors. Yet, on the other side, there are
congregations where cantors feel if they were to leave, that their
post will not be refilled because of financial problems in the
congregations and untrained laymen would then assume the
responsibility .

My friends, throughout the cantorate there is a feeling of
uncertainty and malaise. Despite the wonderful situations there
may be, there is, nevertheless, a pervasive tendency among
congregations, to ask less of the cantor than he is trained to do.

What happened to the profession we studied for while we were
students at the Seminary? What of the exulted talk of creating
an American cantorate to replace our talented hazzanim who died
al kiddush hashem. Are we really shlihei tzibur ? Or are we
instead song leaders for a community operation mistakenly
identified as a religious service? Further, I must mention that
in large measure, the rabbi has not been supportive of our role.
We ask ourselves - is the hazzan a representative of klei kodesh.
or are we to be forever dependent as to our prominence in the
synagogue upon the disposition of the rabbi; who also today is
searching for a role.

The message I bring to you today has to do with what I
perceive to be the deepest problem in American synagogue life.
It has nothing really to do with the relation between the cantor
and the rabbi . It has everything to do with the relationship of
cantor and congregation. What has gone out of Jewish worship in
America is congregational participation. Even to have to state
it in those terms, to say congregational participation is to
betray the problem.

I do not mean congregational participation as the American
public understands it . In golden days of Judaism, there was no
question of participation of the congregation. The congregation
was the Jewish community. It didn't participate: it existed and
its being was the being of Judaism.

But in America, in Conservative synagogues, all our capabili-
ties are enlisted to attract the congregation and to entice it
back to participation. That seems wrong. Somehow, some way, we
have to make the Jew conscious of what Judaism and the synagogue
can do for his life. If he finds this inadequate, there is no
reasonable way to alter things to suit him; and at the same time,
to maintain Jewish ritual . The efforts of the hazzan today are
to attract a congregation. But, too often, this activity of
attracting has produced a grotesque caricature of Jewish ritual .
And we as cantors feel sick inside at having produced it . Most
importantly, such alteration rarely works.

At some point we must ask ourselves, who do we serve, Judaisi
or the congregation. Are we religious leaders or social leaders?
Clearly, we are religious leaders and our duties are to serve
religiously motivated people. I feel that such people are
increasingly rare in American Jewish life. Jews join congregatioi
for various reasons, to be traditional, to maintain a link with
the past, to declare solidarity with Israel, but less and less do

39

they join because of a religious need. This is something that
is simply not felt on the most part in Jewish life. The majority
of most congregations are totally unmoved by matters of faith,
or belief, or the need for religion. Make no mistake, a need
for Jewish community is deeply felt, but a need for Judaism is

We cantors seek to serve Judaism and its ritual celebrations,
but instead, and by default, we serve the community.

I am not developing a philosophical framework, but leading
yet to another issue of my topic: the variety of cantorial
experience and practice. The cantor and the rabbi in America
have changed from rabbi and shaliah tzibur to pastor. The
cantorate is dominated now by a pastoral quality, which it never
had before. I don't mean pastoral in the sense of ministering
to the congregation 's needs, but rather that of the shepherd and
his flock. We, today, the rabbi and the cantor go towards the
congregation and say, "Come to us, let us pray. " Whereas it used
to be in Jewish life that all of us together, the rabbi and the
cantor and the congregation, would all come and stand before God.
Today more often than not, our congregations are not even thinking
of God.

It seems to me that the real paradigm in Jewish life is as
follows. Over here we have the rabbi and the cantor: and over
here we have the congregation; and all are knowledgeable Jews,
devoting themselves to God so that when we all assemble to pray,
there is never a question of the cantor doing something which is
foreign and beyond the capacities of the congregation. On the
contrary, it remains for the cantor to prove that he is worthy of
the congregation. That he, the cantor, is a holy, knowledgeable
man because they the kehillah, the congregation is involved also
in something holy.

In America where there is a pastoral setting, the life blood
of prayer has disappeared because we are engaged in the ridiculous
task of trying to attract the congregation; and as we attempt to
make the service more and more attractive, the services become
less and less Jewish. We must never stop exploring and trying
to bring Jews closer to their God, but within a firmly anchored
Jewish setting.

Judaism in America has been diluted to something of a club
in which all of us are members. There are the federations, the
havurot, and the Camps Ramah. All of these clubs are designed
to make the uneducated Jew feel good about himself. For example,
in the federation, the secular Jew when asked about a weekend
retreat and what they did for services will answer with great pride
that they had the most wonderful havdalah imaginable . How ridicu-
lous that an entire Shabbat of prayer and study should be reduced
which occupies one page in our prayerbook and lasts

fast disappearing institution. I believe

that it is disappearing largely because it was built upon purely
emotional rather than on intellectual and religious considerations.
There was no religious framework except for good fellowship
amongst Jews. This is commendable, but it cannot sustain itself.
There are still a few congregations where two services exists and
take place simultaneously; a regular service and a havurah service.
I believe it has been wise for the Jclei kodesh and the leadership
of synagogues to allow these two services to continue because
experience has shown that sooner or later, the havurah service
disbands once again to join the rest of the congregation in prayer.

The Camps Ramah and the practices at Camp Ramah have proven
to be a detriment to what we might consider proper in a synagogue
setting. I do not want to detract from the wonderful young people
who go to these camps. These young Jews who come back with
enthusiasm and a certain amount of knowledge will, in fact, make
up the leadership of our congregations in years to come. But I do
cry out against the practices which they have brought into our
synagogues which our leadership, ignorant themselves of Jewish
practice, have allowed to become permanent .

Just a moment ago, I asked the question, who do we serve as
hazzanim? My answer is Judaism rather than the Jewish community.
And I know that this sounds scandalous, surely we serve Jewish
people, D °t a" institution. But the institution of Judaism is an
institution of people answering their religious needs in a certain
way. There are many different ways of doing things, but there is
only one genuine motivation for being Jewish: and that is a reli-
gious motivation. Behind all the myriad forms of Jewishness in
the world is the practice of Judaism in its traditional form with
observance of ritual . Yes, our religion has and will continually
evolve, but it will never be anything but a religion answering
religious needs. i am not a philosopher so I turn to one to

41

articulate what I mean by religious needs in the words of Lev
Shestav, who says, "Does one not discern the following: the fig
leaves under which Adam once hid his nakedness, when he suddenly
felt the horror of his fall and his perpetual anxiety is an
extinguishable thirst, and it is idol chatter to say, that men
have always been able to find on earth what they need. They
seek agonizingly, but do not find anything. "

We do not answer this need when we abandon Jewish practice
or dilute it to make it palatable. It will never be palatable
to certain people, but there has always been a sh ' eyrit hapleytah.

It is this sh' eyrit hapleytah whom we serve. We must adopt
an aggressively conservative approach as cantors and cease this
grotesque parody of Jewish life which seeks to attract and not
to serve Jews. we must serve the religious needs of our people
and stop attempting to serve their social needs. Not until they
become more intimately acquainted with the need of what Shestav
spoke will the majority of them need us for what we are.

Let us then serve those who will have us and need us as
Jewish leaders and hope and pray that our fellow Jews will under-

CANTOR SARAH SAGE

I would like to add my feelings to those already expressed that this is an excit-
ing and historic occasion, one that is full of possibilities for the future, and,
in which it is an honor to participate. Already I am astounded at how much we
share, and many of my assumptions, as you will see, have been profoundly shaken.

As I was collecting my thoughts for this presentation, it occurred to me that the
variety of cantorial experience and practice in the reform synagogue is in many
ways reflective of the history of the reform movement itself.

In contrast with our conservative colleagues, who have enjoyed an essentially un-
broken cantorial tradition which emerged and developed during the centuries after
the destruction of the temple, the reform cantorate, although it was retained in
liberal European synagogues, was basically rejected (with some few exceptions) by
the liberal movement in this country during the latter part of the nineteenth
century. Its emergence, then, today, as a growing and valued profession is a
most interesting and wonderful phenomenon.

At its inception, the reform movement sought to bring Jews and Judaism into the
modem world. As that world was dominated by Christians and their institutions,
the early reformers consciously modelled themselves after the Protestant Church
and its practices. They rejected, for example, the tallis ancVanauike in favor
of a musical ensemble composed of organist, music director, and four-part choir.
They even adopted Sunday morning services as the main service of the week to
accommodate those who had to work on Shabbat mornings. They even eliminated
Bar Mitazvah in favor of Confirmation two years after the thirteenth birthday.
"TTT^/atrriBd the term "temple" to describe their houses of worship, in rejection
of the point of view that the Jews were still waiting for the Temple in Jerusalem
to be restored. Cotomitant with the demise of the cantor was the abbreviation of
the liturgy, the abbreviation of the Torah service, and the ascendancy of the
rabbi's sermon as the main focus of the service.

As with most revolutionary movements, once the pendulum had swung very far in one
direction, it began to swing back a bit as compromises with tradition took place,
and the movement, having made its point, and having become comfortable with it-
self, became more flexible in allowing and accepting variations on its point of
view. The watershed for the reform movement can be marked as the post-World War II
era when large numbers of Eastern European Jews began to join reform synagogues.
Prior to this time, the reform movement in this country was dominated by German
J ews who fashioned and established what we now refer to as "Classical" Reform
Judaism. With the move to the suburbs in the post-war era, the children and grand-
children of Eastern European orthodox and conservative Jews began to create and/or
join reform synagogues. For obvious reasons, the reform synagogue - although it
suited their style of life, wasn't like the shul they remembered. And so they
began to lobby for change - often locking horns with the rabbi who was trained
and ordained by the Hebrew Union College - and frequently was a child of the
classical reform movement himself. Almost every reform congregation has it's
story of a major confrontation between the forces of the classical reform
tradition and the forces of encroaching "traditionalism". I served a
congregation where years after the fact, people still talked about the
yarmulke controversy as if it had happened yesterday. For a long time the wear-
ing of a yarmulke was forbidden in this congregation and, if my memory is correct.

43

this prohibition was even included in its constitution. The prohibition was
ultimately overturned, but not without a lot of pain and controversy. For many
of our congregations, the advent of the 'hew" prayerbook (it is now ten years
old!) was the issue that brought forth the inherent conflict between the
"classical" reformers and the "neo" or "pseudo" reformers.

At any rate, as we all now know, many of the trappings of traditionalism have
appeared in the reform movement - if not the philosophy and theology that were
formerly associated with them. There are very few reform congregations left in
this country where Bar and Bat Mitzvah ceremonies are not practiced. And more
often than not, I would guess, the young boys , at least, appear weekly in their
uniforms of taiJ.it" ana' yarrriul'K'e The majority of reform congregants still do
not regularlyv wean- the tallit and yarmuike, but the large majority of reform
rabbis and cantors do wear the tallit, and many wear the varmulke - not only
out of their own conviction, I believe, but because they have become symbols
for their congregations of the warmth and nostalgia of the synagogues of their
childhood - and also out of a sense that this is the way a rabbi or cantor
"should" look!

Sunday services have all but disappeared - and cantors, fully trained and invested
cantors are assuming "first-time" positions all over the country. Again, I think
my own experience is pmbably reflective of the experiences of many: in my student
pulpit, I was the first cantorial presence in a congregation that had been served
by a Methodist choir director and organist, and a quartet of one J ewish and three
non-J ewish singers! When I interviewed for my first full-time position, two out
of the three New York-area congregations for which I auditioned were themselves
looking for their first full-time, invested cantor. The congregation that I am
presently serving in Cleveland is almost one hundred and fifty years old and I am
the first person to hold the position of cantor there. The reform cantor, then,
even though he or she is a member of an ancient profession, is in many ways a new
entity, a trailblazer, a "first".

It is my impression that because of this, our reform congregations don't always
know what to do with us. They want cantors - for the warmth we bring to the ser-
vice, for the feelings of intimacy and identification they cannot find with the
goyishe choirs and organists, for our voices and the beautiful music we bring to
them. But whereas the chazzan is and always was central and essential to the
conservative service, because the reform service was without the cantor for most
of its history, our congregations cannot justify our existence on the basis of
our contribution to the service alone.

I recognize that that is probably no longer true of the conservative synagogues
either - but this is primarily for economic and not philosophical reasons. I
grew up in a large conservative synagogue where the chazzan was responsible for
the worship services and the life cycle events of the congregation. Andnoone
ever questioned whether his contribution to the congregation was sufficient to
justify his position. Such a question would never be asked in a conservative
synagogue. The chazzan may not always be a full-time position, but his basic
function and necessity as the shaliach tsibbur. of the congregation is taken for
granted.

44

I do not mean to imply that the reform cantorate is under siege. We are enjoying
a renaissance of purpose and function that is most heartening. But the nature of
our experiences, I do believe, is based on this basic dichotomy between the as-
sumptions of our two movements. In order to justify the hiring of a full-time
cantor in a reform congregation, he or she frequently becomes responsible for all
kinds of duties - many of which have no direct relationship to the cantorate. If
I may draw again from my own experience: in my former congregation, where I was
the first full-time cantor they had ever had, I was not only responsible for all
worship services, the High Holy Day choir, the volunteer choir, the childrens
choir, and the entire Bar and Bat Mitzvah program - which meant that I was solely
responsible for the training of over sixty children a year, I also taught a Sis-
terhood Hebrew class, I taught ninth grade pre-Confirmation, and I was a major
contributor to the adult education program. Many of our members are Junior Youth
Group or Senior Youth Group advisors or, are another creation of the reform move-
ment, Cantor-Educators. Again, I would emphasize that I am not judging these
categories, but rather, I am describing them in an effort to delineate the great
variety of experiences available to the reform cantor - coming out of the history
of the movement. In truth, many of our experiences have either evolved out of or
developed from a growing sense of our knowledge and expertise as clergy - and
this, I believe, is the most exciting aspect of the reform cantorate today.
Again, because many of our immediate predecessors were gentile musicians or
cantorial soloists - either Jewish or gentile, the reform cantorate has, in
many instances had to "re-invent the wheel" - in establishing our credibility
as Klay Kodesh . In contrast with the seminary of the reform movement, the Hebrew
Union College which was established in 1873, the School of Sacred Music was cre-
ated in 1948 and is only now in the process of seeking its first full-time fac-
ulty appointment. I think most of my colleagues in this room would agree that
the School of Sacred Music has in many ways been the "step-child" of the seminary.
I am not familiar enough with the Jewish Thelogical Seminary to know if our con-
servative colleagues share the same feelings, but it is my sense that there has
been a stronger un-official apprentice system at work in the conservative movement
that has not been dependent upon the school.

At any rate, despite our humble beginnings, I think we are gradually coming into
our own. In my own congregation, our senior rabbi just left on a six-month sab-
bitical. In re -distributing his responsibilities, I was given certain responsi-
bilities that were formerly covered by one of our remaining two rabbis. There is
another interesting phenomenon taking place in my congregation that is plainly
illustrative of the currents in our movement. This same senior rabbi is planning
to retire in a year and a half - at which time the congregation plans to reduce
its staff permanently to two rabbis and a cantor - indicating their acceptance of
the cantor and the cantor's ability to assume part of the rabbinic load.

To be fair, the proposed reduction of our staff is motivated primarily by economic
reasons and I will, in fact, be depriving an assistant rabbi of a job. This, un-
fortunately is where I think many of our reform colleagues are headed. As the
School of Sacred Music is continuously upgraded - it is now awarding a Master's
Degree instead of a Bachelor's Degree, there is a lot of discussion about a first
year in Israel program which I believe will become a reality in the not too dis-
tant future, and as cantorial students take more and more classes with rabbinical
students - why shouldn't more and more of our congregations choose to have a

45

clergyperson who adds a special cultural dimension instead of an assistant rabbi
who has no special musical expertise. It is an interesting question - and the
situation has the potential for tension and conflict. I pray that as the move-
ment is presently expanding there will be room for all of our well-trained,
talented, and able professionals. And that as our rabbis and cantors are trained
in such close proximity, the respect and interrelationships of the student years
will evolve into a mutuality of purpose and concern in the years of professional

Ultimately, the status of the cantor in any congregation is dependant upon what
happens on the pulpit. And here, once again, the choices available to the reform
cantor are reflective of the history of our movement. Just as the conservative
cantorate inherited a largely continuous tradition of nusach hat'filah , the re-
form cantorate was cut off from this rich musical source^ Although we are once
again claiming it as our own, the exact musical character of the reform cantorate
is somewhat confusing and unfocused.

We are all well versed in the secular accretions to Jewish music throughout the
centuries. The nusach lias never been immune to such influence, and even the be-
loved Ahavah Rabah mode is not authentically Jewish but was adopted by our people
from the Mongolian tribes that swept through Asia Minor during the tliirteenth
century. Such musical "borrowings" have occurred throughout our history on both
a conscious and unconscious level.

The apotheosis of this kind of secular influence was probly reached in the Union
Hymal of 1932. This volume contains such enduring examples of Protestant hymnal
style as "Father, See Thy Suppliant Children" and "All the World Shall Come to
See Thee", both of which are still alive and well in Cleveland and, I suspect,
m many other areas of the country as well, particularly since "All the World"
is included in the new High Holy Day Prayerbook, The Gates of Repentance. I
personally have developed a great fondness for "AlT - the Worla"", but with the
exception of our "classical reform" congregants and my senior rabbi, the majority
of my congregation finds it strange, uncomfortable, and even embarrassing. It is
a hymn that could never have found its way into the conservative synagogue, and
reminds us of a time in our reform history when we were trying very hard to emu-
late the goyyim . This particular style is quickly disappearing, but remnants of
it still remain in many congregations and our cantors are required to include
such hymns on certain occasions. I know of a congregation in this country where
a K'dusha sung in the German language is a sacrosanct part of the Yom Kippur
repertoire. These remnants are rich sources of history and association in the

_ _ i which they are used and indicate to us the vast musical possi-

bilities tlat are available to the reform cantor.

To begin with, the reform cantor has always had the use of musical instruments.
For most of us, that means the regular use of the organ - or piano, but there
are reform congregations in this country that are blessed with small musical
ensembles of any variety of instruments. Woodwind quintets, string quartets,
flute and harp, are just a few of the possibilities utilized by some congrega-
tions on a regular basis. For those of us who don't have such resources, most
of us do try to program at least one or two special music Sabbaths that include
tne use of special instruments. Many of our contemporary composers have created
pieces conceived with instrumental accompaniment but which nevertheless include
an qnional or^an part when such instrumentation is unavailable.

46

Many of our congregations have choirs - and this, I know, is a resource we share
with our conservative col leaves. For those congregations that do have a quartet
or octet or even larger combination of voices, the repertoire available is quite
extensive and exciting, bbst of the synagogue "giant;" of the twentieth century
composed with a four-part choir in mind. One has only to think of Ma<Helfman.
Isahore Freed, A. W. Binder, Herbert Frcrrm Lazer Weiner, Ben Steinberg, Charles
Davidson, max J anowski, Hugo Adler, Sam Adler, J oseph Achion, Paul Ben-Chaim, to
name a few of our major composers whose synagogue compositions were conceived
primarily for soloist - even cantor - and four part choir. Indeed, this was the
legacy bequethed to us by Sulzer, Lewandowski, and Naumberg in the nineteenth
century.

The repertoire of composed pieces of this century and the last is not the only
source of music in today's reform synagogue, however. Many of us utilize our
Yiddish heritage or the' Sephardic melodies that are becoming more and more acces-
sible in large measure thanks to the work of Richard Neumann. The works of
Salomone Rossi of Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco, of Darius Milhaud, of Ernest Bloch,
are available for judicious use on special occasions and for special events.

Perhaps even more interesting is the return to tradition of the music in the
reform synagogue. I am not sure that entire sections of the service will ever
be chanted according to the nusach as is the practice in the conservative syna-
gogue . For one thing, as long as the chazarat hashatz does not exist for us,
we will never be able to do it! But many of us include the nusach wherever we
possibly can : for the Chatzi Kaddish , the Avot the K'dusha Tsur Yisrael

The nusach will never have the same power in the reform worship experience as
it dOGS in the conservative, but its presence is increasing, and, I believe,
is a potent source from which we all draw strength and inspiration.

I would guess that the majority of our congregations do not have both a cantor
and professional choir. Many of our reform colleagues work alone on the pulpit
or are assisted either weekly or monthly or on special occasions by a volunteer
choir. In most instances the volunteer choir is trained by the cantor and, in
my observation, is a source of great strength and popularity for the cantor.
Repertoire for the volunteer choir is as varied and diverse as our congregations
themselves.

There are two forces, however, that have greatly affected the music of the reform
movement in the past several years. One is the ubiquitous nature of Chassidic
Festival-type melodies, and the other is the popularity of camp tunes. We have,
thank Cod, finally emerged from the guitar-playing madness of the late 60's and
70's. This is not to say that there isn't a place for guitars and guitar music
in the synagogue. There is. I think, in fact, that that whole era taught us a
great deal about the needs of our congregants to feel a part of something that is
warm and inviting and accessable. It also reminded us of the need for congrega-
tional participation - a more difficult goal, it seems, in the reform movement
than in- the conservative - again, because of our more formal beginnings. There
is a time and a place for such melodies and whether we like it or not, they are
here to stay and we must deal with them as part of our total cantorial experience.

47

The other type of melody is harder to "pigeon-hole". Who would deny the use of
"Ckeh Shalom", "A I Shlosha D'varim", V'haeir Eineinu", and a host of other
melodies that have come out and continue to come out of Israel. They are not
derived from the nusach, they are not composed by our important J ewish composers,
and yet they speak to us and to our congregants, and no cantor in his or her
right mind would try to eliminate them from the worship service. Rather, along
with so many diverse elements, in a limited and, hopefully, tasteful way they
also have become part of the repertoire of the reform and the conservative
synagogue.

There is one other area of endeavor that is also making a "comeback" in reform
practice after its premature banishment, and that is the use of the trope or
cantillation. At Fairmount Temple, in Cleveland, all of our Bar and Bat Mitzvah
students now have the option to chant their Torah portion or their Haftarah
portion - or both - in a return to tradition that is really quite remarkable
for a congregation that probably would not have allowed any chanting at all ten
years ago. Again, the cantillation doesn't have the same compulsion as it does
in the conservative synagogue; in fact, the most insistant parents of my Par and
Bat Mitzvah students are those who either grew up in the conservative movement
or who have recently left it - and want their children to chant for purely emo-
tional reasons - or to please grandparents. But for them, the experience would
just not be complete without the child chanting the Torah or Haftarah portion.

In conclusion - and I would emphasize that this has been a subjective analysis
to which I will welcome your comments and response in a few moments - it seems
as if the reform cantorate is currently engaged in an intricate balancing act:
based on the history of our diverse congregations, trying to fulfill the tastes
of our congregants while at the same time educating, broadening and enlightening
them with the musical creations of our people from ancient times to our own day.
It is, at times, a confusing and frustrating task - the demands are so great and
the options so many; and yet at times we feel as if we stand on the threshold of
great achievement. After all, it is in our hands to guide and enrich and inspire
our people for the next generation.

Afternoon Session: 2 : 00-4 : 30

Chairman: Hazzan Ivan Perlman, President, Cantors Assembly
"LOOKING TO THE FUTURE: THE WAY TO GO?"

Hazzan Ivan Perlman

My dear colleagues,

For those of you who do not know who I am and cannot read my
name tag, I am Ivan Perlman. I have the privilege of being the
president of the Cantors Assembly. i want to tell you i share
with all of you the experience of being a part of history. It is
a wonderful, wonderful occasion and i predict it is only the
beginning of many such occasions as the years will go by.

About five years ago, at the University of Rhode Island, and
i am from Rhode Island, Rabbi Seymour Siegel, who was a member of
the faculty of the Jewish Theological Seminary, predicted (when
he was Scholar-in-Residence for Hillel at URI) that within the
next decade there would be no more cantors and that the rabbi
would be the token Jew in t

i recall that with a great deal of pain because the next day,
after having read it in the newspaper, I had to travel to Phila-
delphia, to address six congregations who were honoring their
cantors. i can recall being absolutely livid at the time.
However, in retrospect, Rabbi Siegel was not being facetious and
in some cases, unfortunately, he was prophetic. There are,
indeed, communities today where cantors have served that are no
longer serving and in some where they are now using "cantorial
soloists" . So, while he was being selective, I hope, in his
predictions, he was not being all-inclusive and I think that
this day is testimony to the fact that he was not entirely correct .

It is a wonderful thing to be standing here at the Hebrew
Union college, joined with colleagues of the Reform and Conserva-
tive movements. We listened, already, to two of our colleagues
articulate some of the problems in the cantorate. They. * can
assure you, come out of experience of depression and pessimism.
Most of you who know me know that I am the eternal optimist . Let
me point out to you, since we all declare that we are now part of
history, that this institution, this great Hebrew Union College-
Jewish Institute of Religion and the great Jewish Theological
Seminary were both founded to train rabbis for the American

49

community. It is through the intervention of these rabbis, for
their love of hazzanut and the preservation of Jewish music and
Jewish tradition that these institutions both now have schools
to train hazzanim. That tells me something. You know, I have
met with the President of the Rabbinical Assembly and with the
Chancellor of the Jewish Theological Seminary. These have been
marvelous meetings and I am more optimistic than ever, i
recognize that it is not always the rabbi that is our problem.
It is the ego and the autonomy that we share and these problems
are being overcome each and every day by each and everyone of
us who understands that we have a sacred role to fulfill in
Jewish life. We are fulfilling it with love and with affection_
I want you to know that within the breast of the rabbi beats a
Jewish heart. They are as much instilled with the love of
hazzanut as we are.

For the first time in the history of the Rabbinical Assembly,
we will have a Hazzan-in-Residence at the Rabbinical Assembly
convention. The President of the Cantors Assembly has been
invited to address the Rabbinical Assembly. Hazzanim of our
Assembly will give concerts at the Rabbinical Assembly convention.
By the same token they will send us a Rabbi-in-Residence . The
President of the Rabbinical Assembly will come to address us.
We are all, I think, on the road to maturity. I think it speaks
well for all of us.

presidents, myself included, come and go. There are two men
within our organizations that have remained for some years - ken
yirbu - may they remain for many more years to come. I will only
say that if the future of hazzanut in both of our movements is
alive and well, and the future of hazzanut is alive and well in
both of our movements, the instruments that have accompanied and
strengthened and harmonized the future for us, it is the instruments
of our executive vice presidents. Without any further introduction,
and so that we do have time later on for questions and answers, I
will call upon the Executive Vice Presidents of the Cantors Assembly
and the American Conference of Cantors, Samuel Rosenbaum and Ray
Smolover.

Hazzan Samuel Rosenbaum

Having watched the difficulties with this microphone, I am
led to agree with the late Stephen S. Wise, who, when he was
called upon to speak and found a microphone in front of him,
pushed it aside with a flourish, and said, "I will not entrust
this million dollar voice to a twenty-five dollar gadget . "
Neither will I.

I would like to add my voice to the good feeling expressed
about the importance and the meaning and the relevance of this
event today. Not because it has not been said beautifully over
and again, but because if I have learned anything, it is that
if you love someone or something, you should let it be known
day in and day out . Not because the loved one will forget but
because it builds the love all the more strongly. I am delighted
to be here. i am delighted that at last we are meeting face to
face in a public meeting with some of the best in the American
cantorate, with the men and women of the American Conference and
with my colleagues of the Cantors Assembly.

I find it more than a little difficult to know where to
begin. It is evident from the litany of problems we have heard
that there lies ahead of us a catalogue of challenges, which we
shall need to confront, not in some distant, unforeseeable
future, but tomorrow morning as we go back to our own communities.

It is obvious, too, that our problems are not discreetly
hazzanic, but are bound up with the state of American synagogue
life, which in turn is a function of the state of Jewish life in
America today, which is, in turn, inextricably a part of the
human condition in our age.

For the sake of reasonableness and to preserve our sanity,
let us for the moment agree that these are hardly times of
spiritual and moral uplift and that this deficiency is not a
matter of great urgency either to the general public nor to a
great portion of American Jewry.

That this condition cannot help but have a discouraging
effect on our attitude towards the religious life goes without

Having disposed of, for the moment, of the universal
spiritual malaise of our time, we can begin to focus on our own
more immediate concern: The state of synagogue life and how we
hazzanim should deal with it.

It is no secret that many of us feel threatened by develop-
ments, a good number of which are beyond our ability to control .
We are dismayed by the growing vulgarity of the way Jewish life
is celebrated, by the trivialization of the synagogue service,
by the inroads which demean Jewish worship reducing it in many
cases to pale imitations of campfire song sessions, by the
apparent determination of many in synagogue leadership to make
of the hazzan a technician, a mechanic who has little to say
about the way Jews pray, but has rather to fulfill a number of
unrelated but necessary functions on a high-tech style table of
organization.

As the traditional ground of the hazzan is cut away, as his
voice becomes increasingly muted, his function will surely become
more and more circumscribed and, before long, dispensable.

I use the word traditional and I do not want that to be mis-
read. Tradition must not be confused with intransigence or with
inflexibility. On the contrary, that word needs a broader
interpretation. It means here that the central function of the
hazzan, is that of sheliah tzibbur , a leader in prayer, no matter
how much that function may need to be altered to meet the needs
of our congregations at this point in our history. Jewish prayer,
traditional Jewish prayer, has always been the time-sanctified
interplay between sheliah tzibbur and daveners- The Jew prays
because Jewish prayer can give him access to an otherwise
indefinable dimension of human values which might be lost in a
world of only those things which can be measured, defined and
cataloqued.

It is the task of the shelialr tzibbur to touch the innermost
core of those who pray with him, to open their hearts to God's
fatherhood and humankind's brotherhood; to lift those who pray
out of the realm of the thinkable and to bring them closer - even
if only for an instant - to the unthinkable and to encourage
them to meditate upon it .

I am concerned when a hazzan is not given an opportunity to
carry out this task. Not because my ego is bruised, but because
if the hazzan becomes only a token leader of the service,
intentionally or not, the ancient and treasured special kind of

52

Jewish prayer may die. Since time immemorial Jews have prayed
most sincerely and thoughtfully in the mesmerizing age-old sprich-
stimme chant, attuned by nusah. to the calendar, expanded or
contracted, simplified or elaborated upon by reason of the
condition of the davener ' s spirit . To daven is to set in motion
an entire syndrome of chanting, singing, swaying; a mystical cast-
ing off of the here and now and an uplifting mysterious union
with the past . For me, remembering and reunion with the past are
an important part of why I pray and these are strongest when I
daven_ And as I grow older that pull of the past to be remembered

When a Jew is led in prayer by a skilled sheliah tzibbur,
those evocations come to him more easily, more beautifully, more
spontaneously. That is what I consider the hazzan's task to be.
If I am not permitted to perform my task, how will my congregants

In the past they might have learned from
father, a neighbor, a pious melamed Today there
Fathers, and even grandfathers, stumble

brakhot at children' s and grandchildren's
the young generation learn if not from us?

In the entire spectrum of Jewish agencies and institutions
today only the synagogue is firmly anchored in the sacred Jewish
past . Only the synagogue serves as the spiritual home of the
Jew. Only the synagogue service provides him with the regular
and regularized opportunity to express his yearning for something
or some One outside of himself. The others are concerned with
current needs: social, educational, recreational, medical and
financial. All important and worthwhile.

But the element that identifies the special and unique group
on behalf of which these other institutions labor so devotedly
and expertly, the element that identifies us as a Jewish community,
can best be nurtured, taught and experienced in the synagogue.
It is the one all-embracing institution which validates the
existence of all the others.

That is because the synagogue was created by the Jewish
people. In each generation Jews have modified it, changed it to
serve their own purpose and convenience. So will it be with us.

53

Some time ago, well within the memory of many of us, here
in the rarified and heady atmosphere of freedom, many Jews turned
their backs on the synagogue as a viable and regular part of
their lives. It is our obligation to help them to turn back to
the synagogue .

Today, as we watch, the Jewish people seems to be debating
whether they need for us to be the skilled synagogue specialists
as in the past, or living, out-reaching, interacting role-models
who can lead them to a return to Torah and mitzvot and to a more
fulfilling sense of their Jewishness.

A generation ago many Jews turned away from observances and
searched elsewhere for salvation. Today there are signs of a
possibility that Jews may once again turn to observing the
commandments because only through them can they define themselves
as authentic Jews.

The synagogue, itself, will need to prove once again that it
can be the authentic and relevant instrument of Jewish expression
and not merely a facility in which Jews play at the excessive,
expensive and generally meaningless rituals celebrating milestone

To the hazzan in an authentic synagogue, a synagogue of

and purpose, of wholehearted Jewish intensity, can be
the joy we all imagined it would be when we first decided to become
hazzanim. Only such a synagogue will survive, flourish and grow.

For the purposes of this discussion and only in the briefest
capsule form I want to suggest how such a synagogue might come to
be. But there is one sine qua non: that there must be - as part
of any action plan - a reconsideration and, if needed, a
reorganization of roles and responsibilities.

The task of restructuring the synagogue is the common respon-
sibility of synagogue professionals and concerned lay people. All
of us will need to be equal partners in this enterprise, with this
or that professional or layman taking the lead when matters of his
or her particular expertise are being considered.

We, together with our colleagues the rabbis, the two arms of
the synagogue's spiritual staff, must more than ever before bend
every effort to establish a continuing dialogue which will permit
us to put both professions to work solving the common problems we
face. Such a dialogue can build mutual respect and mutual
commitment for the ultimate benefit of klal yisrael .

I am pleased that in the last months such a dialogue between
the Rabbinical Assembly and the Cantors Assembly has been revived.
I know it is our intention to pursue it vigorously. We cannot
permit pride or personality or old prejudices on either side to
stand in the way.

The Conservative and Reform movements have much in which they
can take justifiable pride. In the period between the end of World
War II and the beginning of the early 1970 's these movements,
through the devotion and talent of a number of its rabbis, hazzanim,
educators, lay leaders, its seminaries and its professional
organizations, shaped not only the American synagogue into its
unique format, but the way we worship, the way we socialize as Jews,
the way we teach our children to be Jews.

The hazzanim of both our organizations , more than anyone else,
are responsible for the remarkable burst of creativity in Jewish
music which took place in those years; years in which new music,
traditional music, folk, synagogue and art music flourished in
publication and performance.

Music in Jewish life is not an adornment but rather part of
the warp and woof of its fabric. It is a part of being a Jew.
It is for this reason especially that the drive for musical
expression must not be allowed to remain dormant . We should have
learned from history that every generation needs to recreate for
itself, in its own image, the values of the previous generation
or take the risk of losing them forever.

The work that lies ahead is already cut out for us. We have
sensed foretastes of this in the convention programs of our
organizations of the last several years, through the music we hear
and perform, in the topics we discuss.

If we are to judge by these, there is already in progress a
broadened conceptualization of the renewed perception of our role
in synagogue life.

55

What we must bring about is an appreciation and support for
what is happening on the part of the worshipper. This awakening
appreciation must go beyond the love for an individual hazzan into
an appreciation of the cantorate in general for the ideals and
goals toward which we strive.

Part of the job is an educational one for us. "Look at us",
we must say to the American synagogue community, "we have something
to offer. We are descendants of a calling that goes back in one
form or another, for at least two millenia. It is in your interest
that you open yourselves up to the image of today's and tomorrow's
hazzan and embrace him or her as a meaningful and important
contributor to Jewish survival in America. "

For our part, we, as organizations and as individuals, must
commit ourselves to a creative revitalization of Jewish worship,
a renewal of interest and a raising of standards for Jewish music,
Jewish knowledge and Jewish culture and to an overriding concern
for anything that works toward Jewish survival in the synagogue,
in the community - and most important, in the home.

As you know, the Cantors Assembly, thanks to a major grant
from the National Endowment for the Humanities, is engaged in a
three year project to write a history of the cantor in America.
We are almost a year into the job and as a result of a number of
surveys, questionnaires, interviews and careful research we have
already gathered a large number of revealing statistics and facts
on the cantor, his history, his function, his education, etc.

This is not the time to discuss those findings, but the
answer to one question in a recent survey has particular relevance

Our investigator, Prof. Mark Slobin, ethnomusicologist at
Weslyan University and the author of a number of impressive books
dealing with diverse aspects of Jewish music, sought to discover
how hazzanim feel about their profession. The question to which
I refer asked the respondent to indicate what disturbs him most
about being a hazzan today; what would he change if he could.

Almost universally the answers came back that the factor that
is most frustrating to them as hazzanim is the liturgical illiteracy
they find among their congregants, and their lack of discrimination
in what constitutes prayer.

56

This is not surprising. All of us know how helpless we feel
in chanting the liturgy before a congregation of worshippers who
may know how to read the words, but who have no idea what the words
actually mean and who may even be turned off by the literal trans-
lations on the facing pages of the siddur, completely unaware of
the heavy overlay of midrashic, rabbinic commentary and historical
events which helped shape the true meaning of our liturgy.

Small wonder that conqreqants grasp at tunes, jingles, hasidic
melodies and the like. These are immediately accessible, demand
little thought and probably produce a temporary sense of satisfactioi
at being able to participate.

I, like most of my colleagues, have consistently fought this
trend, deplored it and searched for ways to eradicate it . From
where we stood it was superficial and of little lasting value: the
kind of pap we feed little children. In the process, we charged,
Judaism is reduced to the level of a TV commercial .

This is a day devoted to self analysis and we must be truthful
to ourselves if we are to learn anything.

No, ! still believe what I have been saying, but where many
of us fall short in dealing with this phenomenon is that we spend
all our energies bemoaning it and little thought or energy in under-
standing it and in learning how to utilize it for higher purposes.

We had better come to grips with the broader implications of
this rush to what we consider to be inappropriate options for
•Jewish prayer. Are not our conqreqants telling us, showing us
that they have a need for making a connection with their Jewishness?
Is it not up to us to grasp the hand they are extending to us and
to guide them to a more authentic experience?

The hasidim teach that when you want to pull someone out of
the mire, you must get down in the mire yourself in order to be able
to pull him out . We must begin with our congreqants where we find
them to be - and gradually convince them to come up to where we
believe they should be:

life not always had its full share of il

Do we really believe that the shtetl was filled with pioi

men and women? Were all our grandfathers really rabbis a
to think they were?

Then why are we surprised at what we find?

One thing, however, distinguished the shtetl am ha-aretz from
his modern counterpart : the ambiance of faith and the respect for
learning which set the shtetl apart from all other ethnic

That ambiance is missing from our lives. To recreate that
ambiance is the responsibility of all who are truly concerned for
Jewish survival .

Such an honest passion for quality in Jewish life can bind
the rabbi and hazzan and lay leader more closely together than any
code, contract or armistice imposed by synagogue balebatim .

The perception of our role as hazzanim must be big enough to
include aspects of the ancient hazzan of Talmudic and medieval
times, the special honey and vinegar of East European hazzones,
the staid and stately Oberkantoren style of Vienna and Berlin of
the 19th Century, and the new free, boisterous harmonies and
rhythms of our own time, blending together to produce a thoroughly
contemporary rendering of the hazzan of the 21st Century. Above
all, the hazzan must remain a man of the people, an integral and
integrated part of the Jewish community, his influence touching
educational, social and religious aspects of community life.

We will need to enlarge our arsenal of talents and skills if
we are to accomplish this. In addition to vocal and instrumental
music we must learn to use dance, poetry, literature, liturgy and
related art forms in order to create new spiritual experiences
for our congregations thus providing a tangible role-model of
Jewish commitment and Jewish knowledge.

I am more than a little pleased that for many hazzanim, par-
ticularly the younger ones, although not limited to them, this is
not a new concept, but one which they have been pursuing with more
than a little diligence and with much success. Some are finding
professional fulfillment in working with young people, expanding
their experiences with Jewish music. Others, in seeking out that
special one-to-one relationship which grows between bar mitzvah
student and hazzan: a relationship which often continues through
the lifetime of both. Still others, participate in the education
of the congregation's adults, in teaching Jewish music and liturgy,
in developing amateur baaley tefillah and baaley k ' riah. Still
others have developed the special skill and tact to do pastoral
work with great effectiveness. And some are specializing in
serving as community resource persons and in teaching specialized
areas of Jewish music.

58

A number of our members find great satisfaction in working
with the elderly, the sick and the learning disabled. As our
population continues to age, and people live longer, the older
men and women of our communities require our serious attention
and concern. They will certainly need to fill their increased
leisure time with constructive activity. We should be providing
at least some of these.

As people grow older they instinctively turn to religion for
support . With music as the key, a knowledgeable hazzan can guide
such people to a richer, fuller understanding of their Jewish
heritage_

There is also little doubt that before the century is out
the work-week may well be shortened to four or even three days.
Such a process is already under way in many industries. How will
men and women in the prime of their working years deal with their
new-found leisure time? The concern of the synagogue should be
directed now to formulate productive educational, recreational,
cultural and religious activities; not only to fill empty hours, but
to help keep them active and to fend off what could well be catas-
trophic emotional and psychological crises in their lives.

Such a hazzan can serve to bridge the gap between the little
that one learns in religious school as a child, what is experienced
in youth groups and summer camps as a teenager and what should be
experienced at home and abroad as an adult .

In this way the hazzan can help shape the celebration of
Sabbaths and the festivals, directly teaching in workshops and
adult classes and leading families beyond old haphazard patterns
of behavior, turning memories and random nostalgia into positive
intimate living experiences of Judaism through ritual, prayer,
music, dance.

Obviously what is emerging is a new enlarged role for the
hazzan. And this must come to pass not tomorrow but starting this
very day.

We must not be afraid of change. It is the one unchanging
fact of life. Just as the hazzan of the 20 's and 30 's was dif-
ferent than the hazzan of the immigrant generation, and the hazzan
of the 60 's and 70 's was different than his predecessor, so must
the hazzan of today's generation be prepared to march to the sound
of a different drummer.

Yes, Judaism demands that we hold fast to tradition, to faith,
to the word. These are as valid today as they were at Sinai. It
is only the vestments in which these truths function that may wear
out and may need to be changed, and we should not be afraid of
reasoned, orderly change.

Such an enlarged and enlightened role may well serve as an
incentive to young persons, searching for a meaningful and useful
career, to turn to the cantorate. Both our organizations must
become more zealous and determined in recruiting candidates for
our cantorial schools. It will also require a rethinking of the
curriculum and the priorities of the cantorial schools. Courses
in education, psychology, art, dance, musical instruments (beyond
the required piano) , drama, poetry, as well as in Yiddish and in
accelerated courses in Hebrew, to say nothing of computer skills
and social work.

These are only some roshei prakim, some capsule chapter head-
ings, but they can serve, if no other purpose, to set us thinking,
and talking together.

>o matter how heroic, will be meaningless if
they are not implemented and augmented by corresponding and related
action by our mother institutions and by our colleagues, the rabbis,
and by the organizations of the congregations we hope to continue

And that is the purpose of this entire exercise: to begin to
counsel together. The problems, the dilemmas, the frustrations

which most certainly lie ahead are common ones. We all had a share
in creating them, we all most certainly will have a share in the

pain we will know should we fail .

Finally, if we are truly concerned with providing such

congregations, there are some things we must

Achieve a commitment by the seminaries, the cantorial
and rabbinic bodies and by the appropriate synagogue
lay bodies to this hazzan role model .

Careful screening of applicants to the cantorial
school with respect to their motivation. You will
tell me that we cannot afford to be too strict with

our candidates; we have only a small number of
applicants .

Well, I am convinced that the new image, and
stricter standards will attract not less, but
more applications once word gets out of what we
are about .

3. More stringent undergraduate requirements in areas
of music, education, Judaica, and Yiddishkeit .

The last two are not the same. Similar inservice
education should be required of hazzanim already
in the field.

4. In addition to the aforementioned subjects, the
reorganized schools must include instruction in
community involvement and program implementation,
sensitivity training for working with families
and groups, adult education techniques.

5. Joint classes must become the norm - wherever pos-
sible - for rabbinical and cantorial students, in
as many subjects as possible. Except for advanced
Talmud and courses in the Codes for rabbinical
students, and technical music and nusah courses
for the cantorial students, all students should
study together.

6. Agreement on the part of the lay organizations to
demand of their constituent congregations that

they abide by legally adopted standards for relation-
ships and practice. Such an acceptance of discipline
on the part of constituent congregations is now at a
very low ebb. The pain, and the frustration and
cynicism this attitude engenders is not only destruc-
tive for the hazzan or rabbi, but for the congregation,
the movement and for Jewish life itself.

It would seem that I am asking that we change the world after
Perhaps we will not go all the way, but it is incumbent on
o begin with ourselves.

61

nd if you have any doubt that Jewish song has the power to
ige reality let me share with you a story in point . I am

my colleague
om one who was part of the story.

Some time in the early 60' s, during one of the short thaws in
our relationship with the Soviet Union, the president of the ZOA
took a task force to Russia in order to make contact with Soviet
Jewry. Obviously they could make no public appeal for Jews to
come to them so they made it a practice to carry a Yiddish news-
paper under their arms wherever they went as a silent signal . They
noticed now and then that some men and women turned and looked at
them, hesitated, but generally walked away as though they had
thought better of it .

During their stay in Moscow they learned that Jan Peerce was
to give a recital at the Bolshoi . It occurred to them that this
might be the place to make contact with Jews. They went and sat
through an elegant concert of operatic arias, art songs, etc. As
was always the case, Jan was superb and received an enthusiastic
reception, which continued long enough so that he came out to sing

udience settled down in their seats and listened intently

center stage to announce his selections. He looked
it at the audience and spoke up loudly and clearly: For
he said, I will sing "A Din Toyre Mit Got". And it was
as though a bomb had exploded. Jews by the hundreds came out of
the shadows, stood up, applauding, screaming, stamping their feet .
It was immediately obvious who was a Jew. There was no doubt.

the world, but

LOOKING TO THE FUTURE:

My new 1985 calendar contains the following quotation, "Today is the first
day of the rest of your life:" As I read the quotation, I asked myself, "So what
happened to all of my yesterdays?" Our times tend to the quick-fix approach in
solving serious problems (similar to those weekend emotional marathons which are
supposed to change your entire life in 48 hours) . Perhaps the future does not begin
at all, but simply evolves out of the present as the present becomes the future of

In considering the challenge facing the cantorate, although we need not return
to Sinai, we seem to require a grounding in the past. For some of us, however, the
past is suspect. Can we really rely upon the past to provide direction for the future?
According to Will and Ariel Durant, in summing up their ten volume "Story of Civili-
zation" and I quote, "Our knowledge of any past event is always incomplete, probably
inaccurate, beclouded by ambivalent evidence and biased historians, and perhaps dis-
torted by our own patriotic or religious partisanship . . . Besides, most history is
guessing and the rest is prejudice. "

A more traditional approach to the past was my mother's reply to my father
(alev hashalom) when after having davened in the orthodox shul for the first fifteen
years of my life, and then in the conservative synagogue for the next fifteen, I
accepted a position as cantor in a reform temple: my father exclaimed, "Vos volt
dain zeide gezogt?" (What would your grandfather have said?) To which my mother re-
sponded, "Di zelbe vos Avraham avinu's zeide hot gezogt, un vos Moishe rabeinu's
zeide hot gezogt, un vos der Sal Shem Tov's zeide hot gezogt, un vos dain zeide
hot g/ezogt. "Azoi geit di velt!" (The same as Abraham's gradfather said, and Moses'
grandfather said, and the Bal Shem Tov's grandfather said, and your own grandfather
said, "Such is the way of the world. " History smiles at all attempts to force its
flow into theoretical patterns or logical grooves; it reeks havoc with our generali-
zations, breaks all our rules, but perhaps within even these limits, we can learn
enough to hear the present patiently, and to respect one another's illusions ahout
the future.

let me, therefore, begin with the present, with the current status of the
cantorate in Reform Judaism. On October 19th of 1983, the officers of the ACC were
invited to meet with the Executive Board of the Central Conference of American Rahhis.
It was the first such meeting. The purpose was to provide an exchange between the
rabbinic and cantorial leadership to acquaint each other with the priorities of our
mutual concerns. Our president, Richard Botton. suggested that our concern with,
"who's in charge" be replaced by "what we are charged with as clergy role models."
I provided statistics, an orientation about the ACC and its relationship with its
own members and concluded with an evaluation of the future of the <
Reform Judaism.

I noted, however, that only six of the thirty-five congregatic
by the Executive Board of the CCAR were being serve
that this might explain a number of our differences

63

guests who were asked to close their eyes as they entered a garden on an estate
containing a large elephant and to describe their experience: The first, whose arms
encircled the leg of the elephant described the trunk of a stately tree whose roots
sustained the ecology of the garden. The second, whose hands held the flapping ear
of the elephant, described a beautiful bird who filled the garden with song. The
third, whose hands pressed against the side of the elephant, described an obstacle
blocking his way; and the fourth, holding the swaying trunk of the elephant, des-
cribed a threatening cobra about to strike.

I suggested that we cantors and rabbis may likewise be responding to what would
seem to be an experience we rshare i common: the synagogue, its worship services,
the rabbi and the cantor. However, whereas one cantor may be responding to the ex-
perience of a rabbi who is spiritually and musically sensitive; who appreciates the
functioiof music in prayer as being the attempt to elevate and t transcent the
verbal, and where one rabb may be responding to the experience of an invested cantor,
a fine musician with a well trained voice, both devoting their professional lives to
the service of God, our religion, our people and our cultural heritage:

There is another cantor who is responding to the experience of a rabbi for whom
music is the necessary pause between responsive reading, who considers "good synagogue
music" sing-a-long-music of whatever quality, for whom music is primarily a possible
pancea for congregational participation; one who considers musical liturgy unbearably
long if it lasts four minutes but who will speak for forty. As there is another rabbi
who is responding to a singer, without formal cantorial training, who cannot distin-
guish between a sacred melody and a trivial popular tune; one who is more interested

of the congregants : for whom the synagogue Is not a way of life, but a source of ad-
ditional income. I pointed out that statistics which I was about to present should
emphasize how important it is for us to be continually aware that our experiences in
the synagogue may not be what we have in common, but that for the sake of our common
purpose, wa must transcend our individual experiences.

Our statistics indicate that there are some 780 congregations in the Vnion of
American Hebrew Congregations. Approximately 200 have cantors who are members of the
American Conference of Cantors. Some 38 congregations are served by Student Cantors
of the HUC-School of Sacred Music. Our Executive Board consists of 26 members 7 of
whom are female cantors and one is an officer. Tweny-one of the 38 students at the
HUC-SSM are females. There are, therefore, over 500 congregations who do not have
cantors. Of these, approximately 160 are served by soloists. A projection based on
student enrollment and cantors who have retired or passed on. indicates that it will
take between 25 and 50 years to provide these congregations with qualified cantors.

With regard to our members, I noted that members of the ACC are obliged to
uphold the highest ethical and moral standards of our calling and to adhere to be-
havior appropriate to members of the clergy. The ACC supports and upholds the free-
dom of each of its members to serve his or her congregation in accordance with the
terms and conditions set forth in the contractual agreement between the cantor and
the congregation . The ACC further supports the concept of the "freedom of the pulpit "
for the cantor as well as for the rabbi and lay leaders. Members of the ACC adhere
to the placement policy as contained in the Joint Cantorial Placement Commission
"Green Book" and follow the guidelines for contractual agreement contained in the
ACC "White Book. "

A little over a year has passed since that historic first meeting and we now
meet for another historic first. In considering the challenge of our times we must
recognize the uniqueness of our times with regard to the synagogue, since there is
'ess there is a future for the synagogue The nature

with our people, our biblical past, as well as the center of our Jewish culture
where the American Jewish Committee, the American Jewish Congress, the B'na Br
and other such secular organizations stand guard over our secular rights as Jew

and the Goodman Hebrew Arts School prepare and present music and cultural progr
of Jewish content . ..what is the non-duplicable role of the synagogue? Two gener
tions ago most of these activities fell within the province of the synagogue. lil

Abraham Heschel

■s, "Insecurity of

Free

dom" there

■ is a chaptereon

th "Vo-

ing the

mtor and the syn

agogue,

;s a person <

entering a house

of praye

pursuit of lean

ling one goe;

ry; for aesthetic enrichmei

it one g<

art museums; for

>rt hall.

simple. To pray! Today, h

either not rel

consic

tered

of suffici

ent priority.

i t has happened

to prayer?

In the .

first

place, we

no longer pray,

we atter.

e pulpit, I oft*

a page

sburgh.

pick up reques

Id slip into

I recall wo

ndering

I would e

as I 1

■sponsive reading

and the

scripture an

d to the ser

rica politics. . .

ience prayer?"

Askenas ad Jick on "Coping with Cheng - The Reform Synagogue and Trends in Wor-
ship. " We learn from the report that congregations are trying to cope with the
challenge of changes in worship. The study indicates the following: (1) Most congre
gations report some sort of shift towards greater pluralism and greater participa-
tion in worship styles, mode and content; (2) Services are changing as lay leader-
ship roles are enlarged, as women participate more, as fixed pulpits are replaced

has been slowly changing as well. As part of the move to make services warmer and
increase participation, the role of the cantor has been enlarged. Liturgical music
has been supplemented, and in a few cases y^argel surplanted by folk songd an con-
temproary Israeli music. Congregational singing is encouraged The organ is placed

symbols have emerged with the use of the kippa and tallit; (7) T'ne boundaries be-
tween reform and conservative modes of worship are disappearing.

I noted that the words, "God" and "Prayer" do not appear in the report why
not? Perhaps because we are afraid to ask for fear- of the answer "Who can pray
after Aushwitz and "what" was God duringeth Holocause?" And yet, synagogues stana

65

The "coping with change report " reminds me of a time when we experimented w
changing the shape of the theatre stage and the seats in the concert hall. We ch
programs from Bach to PDQ and provided hours of music appreciation with Lenny Be

for formal concerts) has as little effect upon thee music as does th kippa or the
tallit (though also appropriate) on the effectiveness of prayer. Arranging the

with worship.

If the God of our fathers cannot stand up to the Holocaust, it may be that
our fathers experienced God in the context of their times, not ours. For me, at
least, prayer to God, the Source and Process of Creation has meaning. But to pray
is to wrestle as Jacob did. It is to strive to bring the fragments of my being int

and thus become part of that Process best described by Marti Buber as the sacred
dialogue. But this requires enormous effort, not committee meetings or even staff
meetings . It is akin to the endless hours of rehearsals to keep a symphony from

sonata. Poems are not written by committees ands symphonie -with few excepision
are not composed by conductors any more than plays are written by stage managers.

religiousness is a talent, and we are not equally
: or religiousness . Moses may indeed be to religion

1 extraordinary genius, one of a kind, in each respec-
fuse the teachers or the practitioners of religion or

Maslow described as having reached the "peak exper-

2 must not confuse those who attend the synagogue
hildren who attend the colleges an

pask week in a sing-in of Handel '
"Messiah" or "Judas Maccabeus" are not our congregants. Our congregants are their
parents, ther grandpartents or their own children. And instead of Judas Maccabeus
we invite mhe tO participate in congregational singing of neo-chassidic "pablum"

need of marrhag counsellors and psychiatrists and they know where to go to obtain
treatment. And if the synagogue cannot offer a meaningful praying community, there

as a profession: (1) The freedom of the mind and spirit provided by our theology
and way of life; (2) A possible relationship between cantor, rabbi, members of the
professional staff and congregants which can serve as a meaningful way of life; (3)
Financial income in keeping with that of the academic establishment; (4) The oppor-

now than ever before for our talented Jewish youth; (2) Former artistic and vocal
challenges continue to dwindle in the synagogue as the use of sing-a-long tunes

lowest taste in the rabbiniate and on the board of trustees; (4) Professional
insecurity increases as cantoral posiitions depend more and more upon the goodwill
of an incumbent administration and senior rabbi, than upon the years and the quality
of service rendered by the cantor. In addition, rabbis attain the age of prime
security (between 40 and 60) as cantors become more vulnerable to the vocal wear

tin -must surely become a spiritual oasis One must recognize upon entering the
synagogue, that it is not tfle loca "Y" with wonderful social, educational and
recreational activities. The sounds may not be as glorious as those heard at the
Metropolitan Opera. The organization may be less efficient than at IBM and the
deficit slightly lower than the national budget. Upon entering the synagogue one
must recognize that this is where the spirit prevails; where the values of the
market place are left in the parking lots; where relationships of those who compri

community.

conditions that will attract our best minds and most talented young people into
the leadership roles of the laypeople, the rabbinate as well as the cantorate.
We must provide them with security, dignity, and the challenge to grow so as to
be able to helprthei congregants grv in the love of each other, of our heritage

RECORD REVIEW

"FROM STRENGTH TO STRENGTH" - Hazzan Morton Kula
and the Adath Jeshurun Choir (Minneapolis, Minn.), Marly s
Moscoe Fitterman, Director. Adath Jeshurun Records; $9.00

With the choir in the American synagogue in a serious state
of decline it is nice to see that in at least one synagogue the choral
program is thriving. This seems to be the case in Adath J eshurun
Synagogue in Minneapolis.

As part of their 100th anniversary Adath J eshurun Synagogue
has produced a recording featuring their hazzan, Morton Kula, and
choir. The result is a wonderful treat for those that appreciate
good synagogue choral singing. Throughout the recording, this group
of 16 singers of "professional caliber" perform with a wonderful
degree of balance, good tonal quality, and with pitch that is always
accurate and secure, and diction that is clear. Perhaps most note-
worthy is that one senses a wonderful degree of enthusiasm that
permeates everything they sing. This in itself makes the recording
a delight. Credit for this must go to the choir's director of 20 years
Marlys Moscoe Fitter-man.

The repertoire is basically classical with even the "contempo-
rary" selections being more classical than modern. This listener
was especially pleased with Leo Low's Magen Avot, the plaintively
sublime Kaddish of Max Hellfman and the delicately expressive
Veshamru of Mark Silver. Psalm 100 by Ario Hyams, composed
in honor of the centennial celebration, is a spirited piece that cap-
tures the text well. One would have liked a little more development,
but the work serves its purpose well. In the solo sections Hazzan
Kula sings with artistic expression and musical sensitivity throughout.

A wonderful inclusion in this recording is a "V'chulam M'kablim"
composed and sung beautifully by Hazzan Morris Amsel who was
the hazzan of Adath J eshurun for 30 years prior to his retirement.
It is a wonderful piece of traditional "hazzanuth" performed by a
master "baal nusach." The inclusion of this selection is a testa-
ment to the love and devoted esteem Hazzan Amsel has from his
congregation.

For those that have been questioning whether there is a future
for the choir in the American synagogue, I'm sure they will be
uplifted by this recording. The future of choral singing in our
synagogues will be assured only with more groups like the Adath
J eshurun choir. If only there were more like them.

Jerome B. Kopmar