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. Cantors Assembly . July 1987 . Tammuz 5747 . Vol. XVII . No. 1

JOURNAL OF SYNAGOGUE MUSIC

CONTENTS:

Women as Cantors

Woman as Messenger of the Congregation

Music For Jewish Liturgy:
Art For Whose Sake?

Nusach Hat'fillah: A Model Curriculum
for the Teaching of Cantorial Students

"The Hush of Midnight" An American
S'Lichot Service: An Analysis

Joseph Fisher: Master Printer and
Great Hazzan

"YomKippur, 1986"

"Pirkei Hazzanut" (1954-1 962)

Music Review:
A Song in Every Psalm
Mogen Ovos and V'shomru
Jewish Theatre Songs

Music Section:
Tov L'hodos

Cantorial Duet: Av Harachamim
A Gentle Musaf for Shabbat

Judith Hauptman 4

Blu Greenberg 9

Lippman Bo doff 17

Charles Davidson 25

Arnold Saltzman 29

Akiva Zimmerman 42

Steve Robles 46

Max Wohlberg 47

Lippman Bod off 52

Howard W. Tushman 55

Shorn Klaff 56

Arthur Berger 57

Brody/Salkov 68

Craig Morris 74

journal of synagogue music, Volume XVII,Number 1

July 1987/Tammuz 5747

editor: Abraham Lubin

MANAGING EDITOR: PinchasSpiro

editorial board : Lawrence Avery, Ben Belfer, Baruch Cohon, Stephen
Freedman, Sheldon Levin, Saul Meisels, Chaim Najman, Abraham Salkov,
Robert Solomon, David Tilman.

business manager : Robert Kieval

officers OF the cantors assembly: Saul Z Hammerman, President;
Solomon Mendelson, Vice President; Robert Kieval, Treasurer; Henry Rosen-
blum, Secretary; Samuel Rosenbaum, Executive Vice President.

journal of synagogue music: is a semi-onnualpublicatiotion The subscrip-
tion fee is $12.50 per year. All articles and communications concerning them
should be addressed to the Editor, Journal of Synagogue Music 5200 Hyde Park
Boulevard Chicago, Illinois 60615. Communications regarding subscriptions
should be addressed to Journal of Synagogue Music, Cantors Assembly, 150
Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10011.

DIRECTIONS TO CONTRIBUTORS:

1 . All manuscripts must be double-spaced on 8tt by II inch paper, with ample
margins on both sides.

2. Try to absorb the footnote material within the text as much as possible.

3. Musical examples, tables, etc., should be placed on separate sheets and
identified with captions.

4. Carefully check spelling punctuation, dates, page numbers, footnote numbers,
titles, quotations and musical notations before submitting article.

FROM THE EDITOR

The issue of women entering the cantorate has been widely debated in recent
months. Most of the voices heard, both pro and con, have been those of men. We
are, therefore, particularly eager to publish the reflections of two outstanding
spokeswomen on this important topic. Judith Hauptman is Associate Professor
of Talmud at the Jewish Theological Seminary of America and Blu Greenberg is
the author of On Women and Judaism A View from Tradition. (It is interesting to
note that when Blu Greenberg submitted her article she made the following
remark: "Though it has been a most difficult article for me to write, it is
somewhat of a relief to work through the ambivalences.") The arguments in
favor or against one or another kind of music, as suitable for the synagogue
service, have been articulated over the centuries. Lippman Bodoff s article Music
For Jewish Liturgy.- Art For Whose Sake?, is yet another thoughtful view on this
question. Charles Davidson, hazzan and composer is preparing a sorely needed
text for the study of Nusach. He shares his outline for such a publication. This is
followed by an analysis of one of his important creations The Hush of Midnight,
by Hazzan Arnold Saltzman. Akiva Zimmerman can always be counted upon
for unusual historical anecdotes. His piece on Joseph Fisher is one more such
example from his prolific pen. The poem by Steve Robles "Yom Kippur, 1986"
is one chorister's gift to his hazzan, Robert Zalkin.

As the Cantors Assembly celebrates its 40th year, Hazzan Max Wohlberg,
our beloved, esteemed and distinguished contributor to our publication since its
founding, celebrates his 80th birthday. We are proud to reprint several of his
popular, and still amazingly timely, "Pirkei Hazzanut" columns that appeared in
the early editions of The Cantors Voice

Our Music Review section contains a review by Lippman Bodoff, of Hazzan
Jacob Lefkowitz' s latest work A Song in Every Psalm as well as its premiere
performance by the composer's distinguished son, Hazzan David Lefkowitz.
Also included is a review by Hazzan Howard Tushman, of two early publications
of Hazzan Charles Bloch; and a review by Shorn Klaff of useful piano pieces for
the young beginner.

Examples of music by a veteran composer, a cantor composer and an
amateur composer are included in our Music Section. On the occasion of Arthur
Berger's 75th birthday "it is good to give thanks" with his Tov L 'hodos. Hazzan
Abraham Salkov, our distinguished colleague, provided us with a very useful
duet arrangement of Brody's classic Av Harachamim. Craig Morris, a child
psychiatrist and an amateur composer shares with us two pieces from his recent A
Gentle Musaf Service.

Abraham Lubin

WOMEN AS CANTORS

Judith HAUPTMAN

The recent decision by the chancellor of the Jewish Theological Seminary to
permit women to serve as cantors changes practices that have been in place for
about 2,000 years. To understand the halakhic underpinnings of this ruling, it is
necessary to examine the important features of Jewish prayer as it was conceived
in the time of the Talmud.

The history of the cantor or sheliach tzibbur is as old as the history of
statutory Jewish prayer. References to a prayer leader is found in Berakhot, the
first tractate of the Mishnah and the only one devoted exclusively to prayer. This
tractate focuses primarily on three topics: the recitation of Shema, of tefillah
(fixed prayer) and of occasional blessings. Reciting Shema, a collection of
Biblical verses that acknowledge God's kingship and define the terms of His
covenant, is biblically ordained. Fixed prayer and blessings, essentially a collec-
tion of praises, petitions, and acknowledgments, is rabbinically ordained, for the
only worship required by Torah is sacrifices.

In its discussion of prayer, Mishnah Berakhot first presents some general
rules, such as when to pray, what to pray, and how to pray, and goes on to discuss
particular practices. It says, for instance, that if the sheliach tzibbur errs in reciting
a blessing, it is a bad sign for the group that he represents and he must be replaced
by someone else (5:3,5). From these statements it is easy to infer that prayers were
often recited in a communal context, with one reciting the prayers for the others.
What these sources also seem to be saying is that how smoothly and correctly the
leader prays affects God's response to the community's prayer. For instance, the
sick are more likely to recover if the one who leads the prayer does so with total
concentration and ease of expression.

The rules of birkat hamazon (Grace after meals) convey another aspect of
group prayer. The third mishnah of Chapter 7 prescribes a simple call to grace if
only a few are joining in the prayer, a more elaborate phrase if a group of ten is to
recite these blessings together, and an even more elaborate phrase ifLOO, 1000, or
10,000 are present. The variant opening phrases suggest that the greater the
number of Jews joining together in prayer the greater is the glory of God.

A different reason for the communal structure of Jewish prayer is given at the

Judith Hauptman is Associate Professor of Talmud at The Jewish Theologi-
cal Seminary of America

end of Tosefta Rosh Hashanah (2: 18). R. Gamliel asserts that the prayer of the
sheliach tzibbur discharges the responsibilities of the entire group. The Sages
disagree, asserting that each individual must discharge his own responsibilities. If
so, R. Gamliel asks, why do we ask a sheliach tzibbur to pray before the ark?
They answer that he fulfills the responsibilities of those who do not know how to
pray. Carrying that logic further, R. Gamliel responds that if he discharges the
responsibilities of one group of worshippers — the ignorant, then at the same
time he discharges the responsibilities of all.

Other tractates of the mishnah give further evidence that prayer led by an
individual for a group was the norm. The blowing of the shofar, the reading of the
megillah, the reading of Hallel, and the reciting of special petitions on communal
fast days were all performed by an individual on behalf of a group. Rosh
Hashanah 4:7 indicates that there were two prayer leaders for a high holiday
service — the first led shaharit and the second, who led musaf called out
instructions to the shofar blower. Ta'anit 2:2, describing the recitation of added
paragraphs during a period of drought, specifies that the prayer leader ought to be
old and experienced, with grown children, "so that his heart be perfect in prayer."

Certain rituals could only be performed in a group setting. The fourth chapter
of Megillah describes the Torah reading, noting how many individuals are called
up to the Torah on various occasions. It then presents a list of activities which
require a quorum of ten men (4:3). Among these activities are: leading the
recitation of Shema, leading the group in prayer, reciting the priestly blessing,
reading Torah and haftarah, and reciting the wedding and funeral blessings.

In addition to advocating a communal structure for prayer, the mishnah
comments on the eligibility of various individuals to lead the group in prayer. A
child may not lead the Shema or the tefillah (fixed prayer of 18 blessings) or the
priestly blessing but may read from the Torah and translate; a person dressed
immodestly may lead the Shema (from his place, where he will not be seen) but
may not read from the Torah or lead the prayers or the priestly blessing (Megillah
4:6). These rules suggest that we must distinguish between leading prayers and
reading from the Torah — prayers must be led by someone obligated to pray and
hence not by a minor; reading from the Torah may be done even by those not
obligated to pray. However, whether leading prayers or reading from the Torah,
the leader or reader may not compromise the dignity of the congregation.

In conjunction with this set of rules, the gemara cites a tannaitic teaching
which says that a woman may be counted among the seven called upon to read
from the Torah (on Sabbaths) but the Sages ruled that a woman should not read

because of the dignity of the congregation (Megillah 23a). Since it is stated clearly
that women are eligible to read from the Torah, the "dignity of the congregation"
is not a religious argument but a social one. That is, a learned woman who reads
from the Torah shames the men of the congregation by implying that they are
unable to do so.

In a similar vein, Mishnah Succah 3:10 says that if Hallel is recited for a man
by a woman he must repeat after her whatever she says and he deserves to be
cursed. The reason he is required to repeat the verses is that one who is not
obligated to recite Hallel, e.g. a woman, may not discharge the responsibilities of
one who is (Mishnah Rosh Hashanah 3:8). But why does he deserve to be cursed
if she recites it and he repeats it? Possibly because he should have learned how to
recite it himself and did not do so. But the mishnah goes on to say that if an adult
male reads Hallel for him, he answers Halleluyah after each phrase and need not
repeat the words. In such a situation he is not cursed. This again suggests that the
reason for the curse is that someone who is assumed to be less capable than he,
e.g., a woman, has shamed him by showing herself to be more capable. Were that
not so, were he only deserving of a curse because he did not study and know
enough to recite Hallel for himself, then he would deserve to be cursed no matter
who recited it for him, even an adult male.

Another key reference to women and prayer is found in Mishuah Berakhot
3:3. Women are exempt from reciting Shema and from wearing tefillin but are
obligated to say the tefillah, hang the mezuzah, and recite birkhat hamazon Given
the rule that one who is not obligated to perform a particular act may not discharge
the responsibilities of others, but one who is obligated may do so for others, it
should follow that women may lead men in prayer and in birkhat hamazon. In
fact, the gemara asks whether women's obligation to saybirkhat hamazon is
biblical, thus allowing women to say birkhat hamazon for men, or whether it is
rabinic, thus placing women's obligation on a lower level than that of men and
denying women the option of reciting birkhat hamazon for men. In this context a
baraita (tannaitic teaching) is cited which states that a woman may recite birkhat
hamazon for her husband but cursed be the man whose wife recites grace for him.
In addition to indicating that women's obligation to recite birkhat hamazon is
Biblical because the rabbis allow a woman to recite grace for a man, the baraita is
also suggesting that a learned woman shames an unlearned man because women
are not expected to be intellectually capable and men are. However, since the
gemara later provides an alternate interpretation of the baraita, it leaves the
question of women reciting birkhat hamazon for men unanswered. As for women

leading a group in prayer, this is not even raised as a possibility.

This brief survey of sources dealing with prayer suggests that praying com-
munally, with one appointed to lead the group, benefits both God and man. It
benefits God because Jews who join together in prayer honor God, like servants
gathering to praise their king. The minimum required for communal prayer is ten,
because ten is the beginning of a crowd. Communal prayer also benefits man
because the larger the number of people that petition a king to grant their
requests, the harder it is for him to ignore them. Moreover, praying in a group
enables those who areunable to pray by themselves, who do not know the words
or who are not articulate, to fulfill their responsibilities in the best way possible.
That is, the appointed prayer leader may achieve better results than a single
individual could.

What does this analysis of the reasons for praying communally, with a sheliah
tzibbur leading the group, say about women acting as prayer leaders today?
Approaching this question from the broad perspective of the essence of Jewish
prayer, we easily note that the two major goals of praying communally are
achieved without any consideration of gender. If we pray in a group to enhance the
glory of God, then the larger the crowd the better, the presence of women
notwithstanding. And if we also pray in a group in order to exert greater influence
on God to grant our wishes, then we must choose as prayer leaders those
individuals who are most capable of praying effectively, regardless of gender.

Problems arise with appointing women as cantors when we examine this
issue in the context of the Talmud's reluctance to allow women to recite birkhat
hamazon and Hallel for men. Although these collections of blessings and Psalms
differ from daily prayer, the mishnah's and gemara's opposition to women
leading men in their recitation was apparently applied, in the sex-segregated
society of the Talmud, to women leading men in any prayer. The argument was
even made, in the post-Talmudic period, that women's obligations to pray are on
a lower level than those of men.

It is important to note that excluding women from a leadership role in prayer
seems to stem more from social realities than religious rationale. A survey of
Talmudic legislation affecting women reveals that they were generally subordi-
nate to men, e.g., in their inability to initiate or terminate marriage and their lack
of control over financial assets within marriage. In addition, women were not
educated as men were and did not play any role in the Academy. It follows that
women who were dominated by men socially, economically, and intellectually
could not be expected to join them in prayer on an even footing.

Today, however, the situation of women is different. They are no longer
thought of as intellectually inferior and are given the same Jewish and secular
education as men, leading to the same professional options. Moreover, the
Conservative synagogue that seats women next to men is announcing thereby
that women and men have equal social standing. This radical rethinking of
women's place in recent years demands that we adjust the Talmudic rules
governing prayer which have built into them the social realities of the past.
Toward this end, Rabbi Joel Roth, chairman of the Committee on Law and
Standards, has already argued women can accept upon themselves the obligation
to pray regularly and thus equalize their prayer obligation with that of men. It
follows that they should be able to count in the minyan and to lead men and
women in prayer.

Thus, the issue of women cantors at its most basic level is one of changing past
practices that are based on social mores in order to allow current practices to
reflect the fact that we no longer view women as necessarily less capable than and
subordinate to men. Anyone who studies the development of Jewish prayer with
an open mind will recognize that women's exclusion from serving as prayer
leaders is mainly based on men's view of women in the ancient world and does
not stem from any religious or theological argument. In fact, allowing women to
serve as cantors will double the pool of available candidates and hopefully double
the number of synagogues able to appoint cantors. This change in practice, based
on valid methods of decision rendering, will result in more people observing
Jewish ritual, which is to the benefit of the Jewish community at large.

I do not want to belittle the profound effect such a change could have on
those who have been accustomed all their lives to view women as inappropriate
on the bimuh and before the ark. But if people can be helped to deal emotionally
with the possibility of changing what they have grown up with, knowing that
there is a legitimate basis on which to make this change, then it will be easier for
women cantors to find their place in the synagogue and contribute to the
beautification of the prayer service which is the cantor's mandate.

WOMAN AS MESSENGER OF THE CONGREGATION:
MUSINGS OF AN ORTHODOX JEWISH FEMINIST

Blu Greenberg

Although the title word "musings" would suggest that what follows below
are but one woman's thoughts on the matter, I nevertheless feel constrained to
offer a caveat: The views expressed here are not a representative position of the
community I call my own, nor even of women in the orthodox community who
consider themselves (as I do) and are considered by others as liberated and
feminist. Though I have not done an exhaustive survey, I have come to under-
stand that orthodox Jewish women, with but very few exceptions, do not feel a
sense of liturgical deprivation or disability, and virtually none are clamoring to
become cantors. Quite the contrary. In response to a query, the typical reaction of
the modern orthodox woman was one of recoil.

The issue is a difficult one, more complex in its halachic and psycho-social
ramifications than any of the other new roles heretofore closed — and strange —
to Jewish women for so many centuries.

1. To begin with, the halacha as it has been and is currently interpreted in
the orthodox community is unambiguous: Women are exempt from time-bound
positive commandments of which matters relating to public worship is but one.
This exception from performance renders the exempt person ineligible to dis-
charge the obligation of another person who is not exempt. There is no singular
Talmudic precedent or minority opinion upon which to peg a new interpretation,
as is the case of woman as witness. There has been no step by step historical
progression as in the case of women and learning or women and shofar. Nor do
we even have the luxury of pointing to the exceptional model; there is no
Beruriah of shlichei tzibbur! Moreover, the current mood in the community is not
to search for an opening wedge on the issue of women and tzibbur, as there is, say,
on the issue of agunot, (women anchored to absentee husbands).

2. Though women in the orthodox community have made many strides
towards equality in education, career, and family roles, their place in the
synagogue continues to be at the periphery. It is there that they — we — feel most
comfortable. Women feel self conscious, conspicuous, shy when it comes to
taking on public liturgical roles. One can observe this, for example, in the
hesitation women display when invited to carry a sefer Torah in a women's
hakafah on Simchat Torah, or in the fact that women's tef/Ja groups have

Blu Greenberg is the author of On Women and Judaism: A View from
Tradition.

garnered the interest of but a relatively small number of women. An action that
would or should be an experience of the sacred is often felt as an awkward gesture, or
it is perceived by others as an exaggerated feminist pronouncement, as indeed the five
rabbis from Yeshiva University regrettably saw fit to describe the phenomenon of
women's tefila.

3. In the orthodox community, where family size tends to be larger and
therefore more time consuming; where construction of a Jewish home and family are
defined as a sacred calling; where the large responsibility for kashrutmd taharat
hamishpacha are elements of woman's portable faith; where religious education of
the young heavily involves mothers; where the total experience of a Shabbat —
preparation and celebration — intensely binds one to community — there is little
motivation to look elsewhere for spiritual satisfaction and little desire to yoke up to
the enormous responsibility that a traditional regimen of tefila entails.

As one young woman succinctly summed up the matter, "I'm sure there is no
basis for it (women as part of the tzibbur and as shelichot tzibbut) but even if it were
O.K. (halachically) why on earth would I want it?! I don't want to feel strange in my
own shul . . . Besides, I've got enough going on in my life to keep me Jewish ... I'm
doing my share ..."

4. But beyond the orthodox community, in the broader society, there is a new
way of looking at women today: as part of her dignity and personhood a woman
should be able — and encouraged — to fill all roles that are not gender specific that
no role should be closed to her merely because of her sex. Translated, this means that
a woman who hears the religious calling could and should be able to carry the
congregation in prayer, could and should assume a leadership role in communal
liturgy as she has so assumed in the fields of education, business, politics or volunteer
organizations. More than that, one who desires to serve God and community should
be welcomed and not pushed away. What, after all, does it require to be a shaliach
tzibbur? Voice or gender is not the critical issue. Understanding, inspiration, piety and
kavanah are.

Given these factors — my communal context — it doesn't surprise me in the
least to find myself covered with ambivalence. On the other hand, a personal stance
of within-and-beyond community is nothing new to me. The ambivalences must be
coming from within, deeply internalized. Allow me then a moment to argue with
myself.

True, I say, thehalacha currently disallows women in role of Shaliach tzibbur,
but is that not mainly because women are not counted as part of the spiritual
congregation? If contemporary poskim have found ways to enlarge

women's responsiveness in Talmud Torah, could they not similarly increase
women's status to full and equal membership in the tzibbur? This, too, might be a
case of where there is arabbinic will, there is a halachic way.

But relative status in thetz/Mw has to do with degree of obligation— hiyyuv-
the lesser one falling upon women. The commanding voice, that is the crux of men's
tefila, mysterious and wonderful as it is. Though habit and rote may compete with
kavannah, nevertheless the very steadfastness of men's prayer is something quite
extraordinary. Its practitioners seek no dispensations; despite the unrelenting
demands on time and energy, they never miss a beat. When our son was recovering
from major surgery, we knew he had turned the comer when he asked for histefiffffl.
Strange as it may seem, we also knew that it was not his vulnerability but his
faithfulness to mitzvah that motivated him at that moment. Once you start to tinker
with the power of that commanding voice, as the liberal denominations have done,
you weaken its enormous power over you

But why should that voice not now be heard by women in its full, original,
forceful call to avodah? With better education of the original hiyyuv upon them for
daily prayer, with assumption of new obligation, and with heightened expectations
of community, women, too, could rise to the responsibility and grow to such
steadfastness. A new interpretation of the ancient obligation, beginning with the
classic words of poskim of every generation, 'Tn these times . . ." would render the
whole class of women as coequals in responsibility and rights of communal liturgy.
In this regard, perhaps one might even say it is that community that takes most
seriously the notion of hiyyuv — the orthodox — that has the most to gain with
thousands upon thousands of women taking up daily prayer with new seriousness.
All this tinkering does not diminishhalacha and its caretakers but rather proclaims
the viability of the tradition and its relatedness to the life of the community.

Yes, but if women have full equality in the synagogue, what will that do to the
mechitza, to separation of the sexes? Perhaps the rabbis of ancient times were
operating not out of notions of hierarchy but out of a more profound insight into
the need for demarcations of human sexuality. Perhaps, too, they understood the
need for gender bonding to build a community. Moreover, the male camaraderie
that exists in a house of worship is thegentlest and least macho of all other loci of
male bonding — the locker room, business club, tavern. Though it can be used to
argue that reverse point, it must be said that the recent addition to the morning
and evening minyanim of women reciting kaddish has not altered the tone and
speech of the previous all-male minyan, proof that men did not have to 'clean up
their act' as women entered, as they have had to do in other sectors of society.

Perhaps a house of worship, with its inherent restrains, is the very place for male
— as well as for female — gender bonding.

But where is it written that full and equal membership in liturgy and
community must necessarily obliterate the mechitzu and foreclose sex bonding?
It may take some logistical planning, but it is possible to have men and women
separated from each other, mechitzu running right through the shul up to and
including the bimah.

Besides, granted that male-female distinctiveness is at times a virtue and not
necessarily a symbol of sexism, the acts of prayer are too central to a Jew's life to
let them be curtailed at the altar of sexual distinctiveness. And even if prayer were
not the global Jewish response that it is, is not the problem of shaliach tzibbur one
of domino effect? You may not do this because you are not qualified to do that;
you cannot be a rav b'yisrael because you have not been given the benefit of
Talmud Tor ah for centuries; you cannot free yourself from the leverage/tyranny
your husband holds over you with a get because as he was the one to create the
marriage bond, so he must be the one to sever it; you cannot be part of the
quorum that convenes the Grace because you did not inherit the land nor did you
carry the sign of the covenent in your flesh. And of course, the subject of our
discussion — you can never be a messenger of the congregation because you are
not fully counted as a member of it, despite the fact that woman as shelichah
would not make one whit of difference in the content or structure of so highly
formalized prayer.

Ah, but what about kol isha, the prohibition that a man not hear a woman's
voice in song lest he be led astray? No! Kolisha must be placed on the other side
of the ledger, an argument in favor. The idea of muzzling a woman seems
downright immoral to a 20th century person. To sing is a human freedom. At
best, kol isha should be ruled as contextual. Just as ervah means uncovering that
which is normally covered and is relative to societal norms, so, too, the arousal
and erotic dimensions of kol isha should be examined in social context, certainly
it should not be applied to silencing the song and prayer of any of God's creatures.

Yet, why should any of these factors — logical consistency, domino effect,
contemporary cultural norms be applied as a yardstick to a supra-logical system?
We march to a different beat. At the very least, a community of ancient origins
ought to be allowed, in responding to a cultural revolution, to proceed at its own
pace, integrating that which does not affront its religious sensibilities and rejecting
that which does. Not every single area of conflict between women's equality and
Jewish tradition must be resolved at this given moment. Any tradition that must

instantly conform to cultural norms or meet immediate tests of logic and
relevance quickly loses the right to call itself tradition and along with it loses the
sense of anchors and roots. There is a delicate balance to be maintained between
holding firm and accommodating — and shelichat tzibbur might be too far afield.
This is a community that is struggling to respond to female equality and has taken
many small steps forward. Perhaps the small incremental approach is one that
not only serves a traditional faith community best, but also acts as a corrective for
excesses of a cultural revolution.

Still, why now and why not women as shelichot tzibbur? Why not examine
this particular issue from the inside out, from the perspective of Judaism meeting
its own best values? Surely, if we were to posit the primary criteria for reinterpret-
ing and expanding the halacha, it would be this: does it enhance one's commit-
ment to Yiddishk&t; does it enlarge the community of faithful? Surely, another
dedicated messenger of the congregation — and another and another — would lift
the whole people. We are not talking here about giving up Shabbat or kashrut

Yet why are the women themselves so resistant? Women who have
embraced rabbinic studies but draw the line at integrated minyan; women who
pray three times a day and feel accountable but wish not to be counted; women
who have redone their self images but do not see fit to complain when a particular
mechitza does not merely separate but demeans by placing them out of earshot or
visual contact with the kahal; women who construct and lead a women's tef/Ja
group yet would not consider doing so in a setting of male and female; women
who fear that new rights will mean new encumberance; women like me.

Is it all a matter of conditioning; or is it overload?After all, hiyyuv, obligation is
no small matter in the orthodox community. The rabbi cannot do it for you. Every
single individual who comes under the obligation must perform it. (But women have
never been shy of responsibility, and have always taken more upon themselves.)

Most curious of all, why dobaa/ot teshuva, many of whom come from secular
feminist backgrounds and are not unfamiliar with women assuming public roles,
revert to the privatism so characteristic of traditional women in liturgical setting?
Could it be that they return to the tradition not merely to fill the holes in their lives
but in search of that elusive sensation-awe? And anything that changes the past
they have newly embraced disrupts the potential flow of awe?

But wait. This loss of awe is temporary, a fleeting moment as Jews count
time. When the new experiences of women become old and familiar ways and
consciousness falls not on the ego but on community and Creator, the spaces for

awe will quickly be filled again and many new spaces created as well. Besides, we
have come to understand, living as we do in the eye of a revolution, that you can
be totally self conscious and totally uplifted at one and the same moment.
Exhilaration, spirituality and self- awareness do not fight each other. V'chol mi
shefoskin betzorchei tzibbur be'emunah Surely, the great privilege and
responsibility of being diShaiiach tz/bbur quickly overtakes a self conscious ego.

Finally, and most powerful of all, the models speak to us, women as cantors
in the liberal denominations, bddlot tefila in the orthodox women's prayer
groups. Just to be in their presence as they lead davening with fresh kawannah
(who would have imagined 20 years ago that phrase "lead the davening" to refer
to women), just to hear them daven aloud in sweet voice. . . even to read their
words in the Women Cantors National Newsletter is to be touched by their
spirituality, celebration and sense of purpose. Though "God wants the heart" is
never the whole issue for a halachic Jew, it must surely be factored in. One
cannot know divine computations; yet, listening, I cannot help but believe that
God loves as much the full bodied joyous tones of a soprano cantor as the fervent
hum and shuckle of an earlocked hassid, much as God once loved the prayer of a
weeping Rachel and a soundless Hannah.

And yet, though I as one individual might be moved by a Yigdal sung in high
notes, does that mean that anything goes; that just because someone has done it, it
becomes legitimate and normative; that all one needs is a powerful model to
change the mindset and open the way for a change in halacha?

And so the argument goes. . . Like most arguments, it does not resolve itself
with ease.
* * * * ************************

Why should the ruminations of any one individual have the least bearing on
the issue? Either it is halachically permissible or it is not. Perhaps the whole
argument is a waste of time. Surely, one viewing it outside the frame of halacha
would see it as tortuous.

But that, too, is not the whole picture. Contrary to widespread stereotype,
most orthodox Jews do have thoughts and feelings about halachic practices and
are not robot-like in their commitment to tradition. Collectively, these individu-
als make up a community, a complementary force in the unfolding of halacha
From revelation on, the communication was not uni-directional. The eternal
words of the Torah were addressed to a people living in a particular culture, one
that allowed concubinage, that bought and sold slaves. Throughout the ages,

rabbinic judgments were made with reference to individual and communal needs.
P'sak was often colored by matters such as financial hardship or the honor of the
community or the disability of a particular subgroup in society. These musings are
offered not as an exercise in personal ying yang but rather as a reflection of the
different pulls, present and potential, within the orthodox community.

Will female shlichot tzibbur become a feature of the orthodox community? In
the immediate future, it seems unlikely. The group most open to consideration of
these matters — the modem orthodox — finds its leadership increasingly looking
towards the fundamentalist pole for legitimation and there seems to be there
greater emphasis on separation of the sexes. The mechitzot are growing higher
rather than more integrative.

Yet who can tell. Fifteen years ago, I never believed that there would actually
be a kolld for women or a dozen institutions of higher learning for women from
which to choose. I never imagined that a 12 year old girl would stand in the shul's
social hall on a Shabbat afternoon before the mincha-maariv shaleshudos crowd
and deliver a dvar Torah on the occasion of becoming a bat-mitzvah. I never
dreamed that a sh&tel- covered woman would recite the kiddush and other
blessings at the simchat bat celebration of her newborn daughter. I never imagined
that an orthodox rabbi would invite a female friend of the bride whose wedding
he performed to read the ketubah aloud under the huppah. I never thought I
would hear the granddaughters of the deceased teach a perek mishnayot at the
Shiva maariv. Fifteen years ago, I would never have imagined that all of these
redefinitions of tzibbur would take effect so soon. And fifteen years ago, I never
dreamed that in fifteen years I would ultimately affirm the idea of women as
shlichot tzibbur in the orthodox community in its own time.

Meanwhile, I shall probably continue to argue with myself, feminist mind
doing battle with orthodox emotions. And I shall continue to shuttle back and
forth between my places, enjoying the comfort, familiarity and sense of tradition
on my side of the mechitza, enjoying the baalot tefila at the once a month
women's tefila; yet also finding my place in the experiences open to me as a
Jewish woman of the 1980's — revelling in the beautiful chazzanut of women at
a cantorial recital, at the ordination ceremony of a dear friend, at a reconstruc-
tionist havurah, or at the spontaneous conclusion of a Jewish women's discussion
forum. These are all experiences that I cherish.

And meanwhile, I shall continue to defend the right of my community, its
women and men, to maintain its halachic tradition of sexual separateness and to
proceed at a pace that allows its cohorts 'not to feel strange in their own shuls.'

One criterion for a sheliach tzibbur is acceptability to community. A chazzan
must represent the feelings of the kahal

Will it happen in my lifetime, an orthodox woman aschuzzanit in an orthodox
congregation? When I began this paper, I was not sure that I would conclude that
it would happen ever. As I wrote, the issues became clearer to me that it might well
happen in the future of orthodox Judaism. But after I had completed the writing,
an incident became known to me that has made me revise my estimate. It could
happen in this very generation. It has, though technically not so.

In June of 1987, a small group of orthodox Jews in their twenties and thirties,
a minyan of men, several of them ordained rabbis and rabbinic students of
Yeshiva University, and an equal number of women, many of whom were
studying or teaching at orthodox institutions, gathered together in Washington
Heights, New York, for a Kabbalat Shabbat service. The occasion had been
preceded by several discussion meetings in which they sought ways to integrate
women into the communal liturgy. They had rejected women's tefila as too
separatist; they had concluded that several of the egalitarian minyanim on the
upper West Side were not acceptable on the grounds that women were counted
in the minyan and that the mechitza was not sufficient. As they studied the issue
and the options, they decided that the Kabbalat Shabbat-Maariv service would
be the answer. Two of the women led i\\tdavening together so as to eliminate the
problem of kol isha They did so from their side of the mechitza. Afterwards, one
of the men took over for Maariv.

Once again, the definition of tzibbur begins to change. Perhaps I will not be as
long in arguing with myself as I think.

MUSIC FOR THE JEWISH LITURGY:
ART FOR WHOSE SAKE?

LlPPMAN BODOFF

The nature and role of Jewish music in the synagogue and the related issue of
the respective roles of cantor and congregation in chanting that music have not
been consistent or free from dispute. Our tradition does not shed light on the
extent to which the people assembled in the Temple joined the Levites in their
songs, and there is no indication of the extent to which the music sung in the
Temple was continually augmented by new compositions — and, if so, who
composed them. The long history of the diaspora provides a pattern of varied
practices on these matters, with little normative guidance frm the various Jewish
halakhic sources.

For example, the cantor, described as the shliah zibbbur (representative of the
congregation) should have a pleasant voice, among other attributes of age,
character, religious practices and marital status. He was admonished not to tax
the congregation in his singing or to prolong the service unreasonably (tirha
dzibburra). There was also the fourteenth century ruling of Rabbi Jacob Molln
(Maharil) that one must not change the customs of a synagogue in any matter,
even in regard to the introduction of melodies to which the people are not
accustomed. As a practical matter, this ruling left the cantor free to introduce new
music where there was no established custom and an openness to musical
innovation existed. The ruling was designed to protect the traditional structure of
synagogue music (nusakh), and it has succeeded.

One can easily agree to these parameters of the cantor's responsibility
without beginning to agree on other, fundamental issues of his role versus that of
the congregation in synagogue singing that are beginning to divide cantor and
rabbi, cantor and congregation.

Indeed, with the increase in women cantorial graduates and the longer term
growth trend in graduates from the major cantorial schools of all persuasions, we
can expect the debates to continue and the problem to widen. These are far less
acute in synagogues which do not depend on a regular professional cantor
(hazzan tmidi) to lead the services but, rather, utilize the volunteered services of
competent but non-professionally trained laity. However, the problem exists to some

Lippman Bodoff has served as cantor on the High Holy Days for over
25 years in congregations in the New York area. His article is reprinted
with permission from Judaism Vol 36 No. I (Winter 1987).

extent there, too, as will be evident from an analysis of its dimensions.

On the other hand, we have a cantorial tradition that goes back to the Middle
Ages. It flowered in Europe over the last two centuries, was transferred earlier in
this century to the United States, England and South Africa (there is little
professional cantoring yet in Israel) and, after about two decades of relative
decline, is enjoying a rejuvenation today. This is particularly true in Reform and
Conservative synagogues as they move to increased ritual observance. This
tradition embraced the idea that the cantor was expected to have a quality voice,
to be trained in musicianship, and to sing significant, often complex compositions
composed by him or by others, enriching the text by vocal embellishments and
word repetition, often augmented by a choir. The congregation served more as
audience than as an active participant. Exceptions were the older Southern and
Western congregations in Europe, whose responsive congregational singing
dated to medieval times and was a continuation of the Oriental, Italian and
Spanish-Portuguese service. { With the growth of the cantorial tradition, the
compositions for the liturgy became increasingly elaborate and, indeed, inde-
pendent works of art in their own right, often absorbing the modes of harmony,
structure and melody to be found in the surrounding secular culture.

The best of these compositions had many virtues. They were written to assure
proper pronunciation and phrasing of the Hebrew words and text, and to focus
on the meaning of the liturgy and its significance. Indeed, the distinctive musical
rendition of particular parts of the liturgy which vary by holiday and between
holidays and weekdays probably developed from cantorial innovations of special
expressiveness, beauty and power that gradually became accepted, between the
eighth and thirteenth centuries, as permanent elements of the service.* Cantorial
music moved and enlightened, engendering not just heightened awareness and
understanding, but the special mood — of joy and sorrow, triumph and despair,
inspiration and even catharsis — to match the occasion and the text. It provided a
channel whereby the worshipper felt connected ultimately, not just to the prayer
book and its liturgy, but to his fellow man, to the Divine and even to the Divinity,
and sensed the Almighty's majesty and power, His care and love of the Jewish
people and mankind.

At the worst, these compositions and cantorial renditions became the incar-
nation of art for art's sake. They were opportunities to show off compositional
flair and vocal dexterity, interposing complexity and diversion and, ultimately, a
barrier between worshipper and text. The result was congregational impatience
and boredom. Services either took too long, or required the perfunctory perfor-
mance of major parts to allow time for ambitious but uninteresting compositions.

The question that begged to be asked was: For whose sake is the music? The
Almighty's? The congregation's? The composer's? The cantor's?

It should be noted that the cantorial tradition did not take strong root in
Sephardi services. The classicism of Sephardi culture deemphasized the florid,
emotional aspects of hazzanut, and encouraged congregational chanting rather
than solo singing. Moreover, by discouraging the rocco-like piyyutim of Ashke-
nazi culture, Sephardim limited opportunities for the cantor to exhibit muscial
creativity. The result, Millgram points out, has been the relatively "monotonous
rendition" of the services which is not palatable to most Ashkenazi Jews. 3

There has also been a fairly distinct Hasidic style of individual congregant
prayer and expression which was originally loud, chaotic, and lusty. Today it is
more organized, focussed around the often beautiful, haunting and original
compositions of the rebbe or the sect's regular composers, such as those of the
Modzitz Hasidim. The classic Hasidic style was thus distinct both from the
relatively rapid, inartistic davening led by a ba'alt'filah (non-professional leader
of the service) characteristic of unaffluent Ashkenazi Jewry, and from the
cantorial tradition that could be found in the relatively larger, more affluent
congregations.

A counter-trend to the cantorial tradition developed in non-Hasidic congrega-
tions about fifty years ago. It sought to fill the vacuum between the short,
democratic but perfunctory service of the traditonal synagogue, in which the
services were often just an unavoidable break between the learning of Torah, and
the musically adventurous but elitist cantorial tradition. This countertrend, as
paradigmatically embodied in the Young Israel movement, was part of a much
broader attempt to make the synagogue a more democratic institution in Jewish
life. Its purpose was to attract the young, Americanized, second and third
generations to Judaism and away from assimilation, by giving everyone a greater
say in the synagogue in every way. This trend strove to eliminate favoring the
wealthy with synagogue honors, whether of ritual or leadership. It sought to
encourage sermons by members of the congregation as well as the rabbi, sermons
in English rather than Yiddish, shorter services, the leadership of the services by
all members of musical and language ability and — a crucial change from
tradition — congregational singing.

Congregational singing necessarily put a premium on easy to recognize,
relatively simple melodies that could be sung week in, week out. Indeed, their
familiarity was considered their strength. At its best, this approach involved the
congregation in a way that a professional cantor and choir never could. It

produced an interest in, and identification with, the liturgy. It gave youngsters,
who are notoriously impatient when inactive, a role in the services that provided
an outlet for their energy, and a vital reason to return every week to the synagogue.

At its worst, it resulted in its own musical dynamic that tended to split music
from liturgy. The goal was the pretty, singable tune, whether or not it fit the
meaning and significance of the text and the day in the Jewish calendar. Since
familiarity was crucial, music new to the congregation was feared and avoided.
Congregations were "led" in prayer by musical cues, calling forth mass, auto-
matic musical responses. Indeed, during the persecutions of Jews in Europe in the
fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, congregations succeeded in pressuring cantors
to sing popular tunes of the marketplace on Sabbaths and holidays, to help them
forget their dire condition during the rest of the week.4 As in later years, even until
now, this appears to be a case where the cantors and traditional modes of song are
not satisfying to the people. When this happens, change is inevitable.

It is ironic that current cantorial complaints against congregational singing
based on folk songs, love songs, and other secular sources echo complaints
against the excesses of cantors by rabbis and congregations centuries ago.5

The increasing separation of music and meaning was less of a problem at the
inception of this populist trend in synagogue music, when the laity was largely
unaware of the meaning of the Hebrew text, and synagogue democratization to
counter assimilation was paramount. More recently, the growing knowledge and
sophistication of the laity in music and liturgy has made the populist approach
increasingly obsolete. Again, the question inevitably to be asked is: For whose
sake are these melodies being sung? The cantor's? The congregation's? The
liturgy's? The Almighty's?

At present the cantorial tradition has increasingly been taken over by the
Conservative and Reform movements, where classically — given the societal
status of their congregants — the goal of democratization has had less of a
priority. The move to the populist tradition, and away from the cantorial, has
taken its firmest hold in Orthodox synagogues.

This divergence between the cantorial/Conservative and congregtional/
Orthodox approaches to synagogue music was paralleled by a similar divergence
in Europe in the nineteenth century. The wealthier, more upwardly mobile, and
more conservative Jewish bourgeoisie-entrepreneurs-intelligensia in Europe
emphasized order, reason, dignity, loyalty to the secular Government, and the
absorption of the best of the secular culture around them. The poorer working
classes and small shopkeepers emphasized (and needed) emotion, change,

excitement and spontaneity, mass participation, disrespect of secular and even
Jewish authorities (except for their own rebbe) and loyalty to Jewish tradition
and culture to the exclusion of the secular culture around them. Later in its
history, however, much of the Hasidic movement, for example, the Ger move-
ment, moved away from emphasis on unbridled joy in religious song to the
Mitnagdic conservatism and emphasis on ritualobservance and Torah study.
"Anything new is forbidden by the Torah," was a saying of the Hungarian rabbi,
Hatam Sofer, that was popular with the Ger Hasidim. Their attitude against
changes in dress and the reading of new, secular literature undoubtedly applied to
innovation in synagogue music as well.6

Emerging changes of a sociological nature are also having an impact on both
the cantorial and congregational traditions. There is a new emphasis on "learn-
ing" (Talmud study and commentaries thereon) and de-emphasis ofaesthetically
experienced communal prayer among the current Orthodox generation. The
result is a movement back to the centuries-old tradition of short, unmusical
services. The formula is more important than the feeling. Decorum is absent. The
hazzan is discouraged from word repetition even where it enhances the text, and
prayer is viewed as an unavoidable interlude between long stretches of "learn-
ing." This approach has been strengthened by synagogue music which is per-
ceived as irrelevant, boring or worse.

The ritualistic attitude to prayer has some theological support in certain views of
the Tosafot, the Tur and the Shulhan Arukh, the nineteenth century code Hayyei
Adam, and the current philosophies of prayer of Rabbi Soloveitchik and the Israeli
philosopher, Yeshayahu Leibowitz. They seem to question whether man can still
personally pray with proper devotion, as he did in rabbinic times. Indeed, for
Soloveitchik, the highest if not the only legitimate formof prayer is based on man's
terror and unworthiness before God. Thus, the justification for prayer today is duty,
paralleling the binding of Isaac and the Temple sacrifices, leaving little room for
spontaneity, novelty, or self-expression in worship. A broader view of prayer, as
embracing the personal and creative expression before God of man's deepest
feelings, longings and needs, is held by the Talmud, by Maimonides, and, most
currently, by the Israeli philosopher DavidHartman.7 Interestingly, one is less likely
to find the anti-aesthetic attitude in Israel, perhaps because a more fully rounded
and less guilt-ridden Jewish life can flourish there, with less of the traditionalgflto
fear concerning the continuity of religious practices.

But it is not just the Orthodox who are changing. Among Conservative and,
increasingly, even Reform congregations, trends to greater observance and
ethnicity have caused a major increase in synagogue attendance and a heightened

desire to participate in song during the service. There is a new urge to identify
with their service, their liturgy, their people and — as it were — with their God.
Such desire for aesthetic, musical self-expression produces a new sense of
communion with their fellow congregants, the rabbi, the cantor and the choir,
too, who were previously viewed as remote symbols of a Judaism that was
respected but rarely fully practiced.

Thus, the Conservative (and Reform) congregations increasingly want more
singing, the very Orthodox want less, and both are unhappy with their past
musical traditions. In this period of transition, as the roles of the cantor and the
congregation evolve, a debate has begun between those who want the synagogue
service to be a forum for congregational singing, and those, led by professional
cantors, who view congregational singing as a threat not just to the cantorial
profession and the jobs that it provides, but to the beautiful musical tradition of
the liturgy.* In a word, as generations and their priorities change, the choice that
seems to arise is one between elitist artistry and populist philistinism. I say "seems
to emerge" because, as I will seek to argue, I think this choice is neither the only
one nor the most desirable one. 9

I suggest that before one can develop a concept of the proper role for cantor
and congregation, there is a need to recognize a variety of concepts that are not
mutually exclusive. There are solo and congregational singing, virtuoso and
lyrical singing, modern and traditional music, familiar and unfamiliar music,
great music and ordinary music, music that heightens the emotions and under-
lines the themes of the liturgy, and music that inspires the fellowship of a
congregation joined in song. There are prayers and places and occasions for each
of these in particular synagogues, at particular points in the liturgy, for the
particular tastes of the Jews who make up a particular zibbur.

The people of Israel in prayer deserve better than the false dichotomy of art
versus mass singing. A shaharit or musaf service on a Shabbat or YomTov, or a
High Holiday, must always seek to inspire, to guide, to teach, and to explain what
is going on in the liturgy, through music. This must be done without creating tirha
d'zbbura To achieve these objectives, there is a need for good nusah and good
music throughout, whether by cantor or congregation, that is right for the mood
and theme of the day. Think of the challenge in this regard of the Shabbat
between Yom Ha'Shoah and Independence Day and Yom Yerushalayim. There
is a need for new music that will become familiar, and for the careful introduction
of new modes and modern compositional ideas. There is even the need for
changes in nusah, where they do not depart significantly from the accepted
tonality and feeling of the basic nusah.

Finally, I suggest that it is time for a new, post-Holocaust approach to the
music of prayer, that stresses neither the virtuoso cries of the oppressed of our past
nor the trivial "pop-art" of fad tunes of our present, but, rather, a lyrical and
sophisticated rendering of the kaleidoscope of themes and emotions in our
liturgy. Such music, by modem composers like Ralph Schlossberg, Abraham
Kaplan and Shalom Kalib, together with many of the masterpieces of the past
and the best of music in the popular idiom, will bring a new interest and
excitement to our prayers and help us transcend a world that is, indeed, "too
much with us."

No hazzan is more important than his zibbur to whom he owes his ultimate
obligation, allegiance and authority. Zibbur and hazzan have gone through much
together in our history, beginning with the songs of the Levites and the classical
Sephardi collaboration of hazzan and the congregation, through the melodies of
Hasidic rabbis, the heartfelt renditions of hazzanim of our golden age, the
classical compositions for the synagogue liturgy of the last century, the biblically
oriented and national building music of the people of Israel, be it songs of love,
longing, triumph or despair, and the new, modem compositions of many talented
composers now writing synagogue music. The creative tension between cantor
and congregation must continue to combine the familiar with the new, to provide
a'avening experiences which are ever fresh and not routine, as in the rabbinic
injunction al t'hi t'filahtkha keva (do not let your prayers be routine). This can
only be accomplished, as in the case of learning, as we increase, together with our
teachers and our cantors, the variety and sophistication of the methods that we
use to render and explicate the text, whether of Torah or of liturgy.

The lesson for hazzan and zibbur alike surely is: by continued mutual
openness and receptivity one to the other, to continue to guide and inspire each
other and to thrive as a harmonious unity rather than as adversaries.

NOTES

1A.Z. Idelsohn, Jewish Music in its Historical Developement (Schocken Rooks, 1967) p. 281.

* Abraham Millgram, Jewish Worship (Jewish Publication Society, 1971) pp. 513-30.

3Millgram, p. 526.

41delsohn, p. 178.

sMillgram, p. 528.

LRaphael Mahler, Hasidism and the Jewish Enlightenment (Jewish Publication Society, 1985) pp. 55,64-7,
313-14.

'David Hartman, A Living Covenant (The Free Press, 1985) chapters 6 and 7. There also may be a
relationship between intensive Talmud study and asceticism and, ultimately, spiritual purification. This
phenomenon goes back at least to the 13th century in Provence, France, when cadres of students were selected
for seven years of intensive, isolated and ascetic Talmud study. See I. Twersky, Rabad ofPosquieres (Jewish

Publication Society, 1980), pp. 25-27.

8 The piyyutim, in particular with their rhythmic regularity, seem ideally suited for congregational singing and
are surely unsuitable for the virtuoso improvisations of hazzanut. This is not to deny the important role of the
cantor in finding, commissioning and selecting appropriate music for these sections of the liturgy.

9A recent article in Dennis Prager's newsletter, Ultimate Issues, highlights this dispute ("When Rabbis and
Cantors Become Doctors and Artists," Ultimate Issues [Spring 19851: 12). In it, the editor notes the complaint of
a cantor at the pervasive congregational rejection of great music for the synagogue as performed by professional
cantors (and choirs). He then develops his own credo that synagogues are for congregational singing of familiar
melodies, while the great music of which the cantor writes is for the concert hall.

NUSAH HAT'FILLAH: 5

A MODEL FOR THE ESTABLISHMENT OF A BASIC CURRICULUM
FOR THE TEACHING OF CANTORIAL STUDENTS

CHARLES DAVIDSON

"The extinction of the great European centers of Jewish learning has made
acute the danger of a disintegration of our musical heritage."'

Dr. Eric Werner 2 made this comment on the occasion of the reprinting of the
first volume in a republication series of long out-of-print works by European
composers. 3 This series has been a resource for practicing cantors and students. 4

Thirty-three years after the appearance of Dr. Werner's incisive statement, it
is my belief that the art of the Hazzpn continues to be in jeopardy. In my opinion,
it is time for the publication of a formal and comprehensive curriculum for the
teaching of nusah hat'fillah. 5 This curriculum would be based on the methods
and materials utilized by Dr. Max Wohlbcrg in his classes at the Cantors Institute
over the past thirty-five years. 6 These methods and materials have already been
expanded by addenda developed by this writer while serving as instructor in
Nusah at the Seminary's Cantors Institute.7

The curriculum would consist of two main components: (1) an examination
of the musical aspects of nusah hat'fillah in the Jewish tradition and (2) a
methodology for the teaching of the subject.

The construction of the proposed curriculum will encompass three basic
considerations, (a) an eclectic approach,8 (b) empirical selection9 and (c) modu-
lar teaching strategies. 10

This study would be limited to the construction of a materialization process 11
as an instructional system for the teaching of nusah hat'fillah based upon the
Jewish calendar years. 12 Its eclectic aspect would involve the use of two main
sources: (1) a compendium of European nushaot 13 and (2) an Americanized
version of the above, developed over the past half century. 14

Additional teaching materials would be drawn from two minor sources: (a) a
widely used anthology 15 and (b) a collection of tunes used by hazzanim function-
ing in Conservative congregations in the United States and Canada. 16

The curriculum would be designed to cover a three year, six semester course
of study.

Charles Davidson is the hazzan of Aa'ath Jeshurun in Elkins Park, Penn-
sylvania A former editor of the Journal of Synagogue Music, he is also well
known as a composer of Synagogue and general Jewish music.

Proposed Publication
TABLE OF CONTENTS

LIST OF APPENDICES:

A. Imunim B'Nusah Hat'Fillah: Workbook for the Prayer Modes. (48
PP.)

B. He-Arot Lim'Korot Nusah Hat'Fillah Lamathilim

1. Shabbat, Hallel, Y'mot Hahol, S'lihot (6 pp.)

2. Rosh Hashannah, Yom Kippur,N'eilah (12 pp.)

3.Pesah, Shavuot, Sukkot, Hoshannah Rabba, Sh'mini Atzeret,
Simhat Torah, Tisha B'ab, Yom Kippur Katan, Eirusin v'nisuin,
Uvayot(5 pp.)

C. Improvisational Outline for Shabbat. (49 pp.)

D. High Holyday Misinai Tunes. (20 pp.)

E. Pesah Seder Narratives. (14 pp.)

CHAPTER

I. RATIONALE AND PROCEDURES

II. THE ROLE OF NUSAH HAT'FILLAH IN THE JEWISH
TRADITION

Rationale of Comparisons

Chronology

Regionalization

III. DEFINITION OF TERMS

Nusah Hat'fillah
Mi-Sinai Melodies
Modes

IV. SOURCES FOR THE PRESENTATION

Baer
Wohlberg

V. TEACHING STRATEGIES

VI. RAMIFICATIONS AND IMPLICATIONS
BIBLIOGRAPHY

APPENDICES

NOTES

J In the preface to "Baal T'fillah oder der Practische Vorbeter", by Abraham Baer. Reissued by the Sacred
Music Press, New York, 1953.

*Eric Werner is the eminent Jewish musicologist and Professor Emeritus of Sacred music at HUC-JIR.

3 "Out of Print Classic Series", 25 vols., N.Y.: Sacred Music Press, 1953-55. This publication project differed
from previous undertakings in that (a) a large group of volumes by different synagogue composers were to be
published because they had become unattainable and (b) the project took as its aim the reintroduction of
traditional prayer motives to the American Cantorate.

4 At the time of this writing, three cantorial schools exist in the United States: The School of Sacred Music
(Hebrew Union College -Jewish Institute of Religion, founded 1947), The Cantors Institute — College of
Jewish Music (The Jewish Theological Seminary of America, founded 1951) and The Cantorial Training
Institute of the Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary (originally a Music Department of Yeshiva
University in New York, formed in 1946 and a Cantorial Workshop in 1951, the current Cantorial Training
Institute was founded in 1954). There also exist facilities for the teaching of Hazzanut at Jew's College in
London, England and at the Selah Seminary in Tel Aviv, Israel. "The Cantor, An Historic Perspective" , Leo
Landman, N.Y.: Yeshiva University, 1972.)

5 "Dr. Max Wohlberg, Seminary Professor of Nusah, is an outstanding hazzan, an acknowledged scholar,
both in our general tradition and in our chosen field; a composer who is uniquely attuned to the needs of his
colleagues and has concentrated his composing to satisfy those needs ... an entire American Jewish Community
has been enriched by the countless articles which he has written for this Journal and for other academic and
scholarly publications." The Journal of Synagogue Music, Vol. VII, No. 3, June, 1977. Introduction to article
by Samuel Rosenbaum.

6Dr. Wohlberg has been the only teacher of Nusah at the Cantors Institute, beginning one year before the
formal founding of the Cantors Institute. His courses have generally taken the form of demonstration and
imitation. Many of his courses have been recorded by his students. Much of that material is in the possession of
this writer. Additionally, Dr. Wohlberg has created many musical settings as illustrations, also available.

7 The writer studied nusah with Dr. Wohlberg in the Cantors Institute from 1952-55, and has been his
assistant in the Institute since 1976.

8 The curriculum will "eschew the parochialism associated with an older tradition of cantorial training. The
European Jewish boy who wished to become a cantor and to learn the art of hazzanut most frequently became a
meshorer, a choir-singer in the choir of a well known cantor who often arranged for lessons in hazzanut and
music as compensation. The result of this kind of apprentice arrangement was that the repertoire and style of the
student was almost always an imitation of the teacher or the teacher's master. This would limit the student to
one local or single stylistic approach. He would often prove 'unqualified when seeking employment in
communities geographically distant because of his unfamiliarity with local tunes, etc." (Emunat Abba, Joseph
Levine, N.Y.: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1981. Ph.D. Thesis, Vol. IV, pp. 23-26).

9 Tbe selection of suitable materials for use in the synagogue service is one of the great tasks of the Hazzan. He
should be guided by the following considerations: (I) Is the music in the proper mode? (2) Am I vocally able to
present it well? (3) What congregational or musical considerations are to be satisfied? One of the goals of this
cumcuium will be to provide the Hazzan with guidelines sufficient to satisfy the above conditions.

10 M<xlular teaching strategies will include memorization, inquiry teaching, improvisational exercises and
other creative aspects of the learning process.

'^Materialization process (is) the generation of instructional materials and experiences from an analysis of
particular bodies of knowledge. This process whereby educators translate the world of ideas into tangible
instructional materials and experiences is also known as instructional materials and instructional product
development." Media, Materials and Instruction in Jewish Religious Eduction, Steven Michael Brown, N.Y.:
Teachers College, Columbia University, 1975. (Ed. D. Thesis).

ll Piyyutim, not found in some current makzorim, will be included in the curriculum.

I3 'The greatest and most complete collection is that published in 1877 by Abraham Baer . in Gothenburg,
Sweden; it is called the Baal Tefillah Baer utilized the works of Sulzer, Weintraub, Naumbourg and
Lewandowski. He sought to prepare a guide for young hazzanitn; but he also provided the simple reader in small
congregations with every possible tune for all those texts of the prayer-book for the entire year, (he offered) a
great number of variations for every text. He also gave the Eastern European (called by him Polish) rite and the
German rite, as well as the Old Tradition and the New Style. ♦ From the practical point of view, his book filled

a great need_" Jewish Music in Its Historcial Development, A.Z. Idelsohn, N.Y.: Schocken Books, 1967. (p.
339-40)

"Materials developed by Dr. Max Wohlberg since 1923 with additions by this writer.

15 "Cantorial Anthology of Traditional and Modem Music: arranged for Cantor an dChoir with Organ
Accompaniment," Compiled and Edited by Gershon E phros, Bloch Publishing Co., New York, 1929-77. (Six
Volumes.)

l6 "ZammLo: Congregational Melodies for the Sabbath, Shalosh R'galim and the High Holidays," Compiled
and Edited by Mosbe Nathanson, N.Y.: Cantors Assembly of America, 1960-74. (Three Volumes).

THE HUSH OF MIDNIGHT 29

AN AMERICAN S'LICHOT SERVICE

Poetry by Ruth F. Brin

Music by Charles Davidson Arnold Saltzman

DILEMMA AND PARADIGM

A major dilemma for cantors throughout the generations has been the
question of tradition vs. change. Indeed, this is at the very core of Jewish study,
customs, legal matters, and the reinterpretation of Judaism as it comes to grips
with movement in space, motion in time, politics, and technology.

The tensions generated by this phenomenon are ever present among the
branches of Judaism, the grapling with women's rights, and the general satura-
tion of life with universal popular culture.

In this regard, music has always been an indicator and measure of artistic
prophecy. The idea that the artist, in this case musician, can generate the direction
of the future, through awareness of the prayers of the present, is endemic.

By now you must be wondering what this all has to do with "The Hush of
Midnight". The connection is one of philosophical framework and the establish-
ment of measures to determine what is acceptable or not acceptable. More
importantly, whether a work of music for the synagogue is Jewish, merely by the
fact that its composer is Jewish, or by the fact that certain characteristics of
Jewish music are ever present and to what degree they are present.

The confrontation with modernism is a constant which Conservative Juda-
ism seeks to address. Ismar Schorsch, the new chancellor of the Jewish Theologi-
cal Seminary of America, in an address to Washington, D.C.'s Jewish commun-
ity stated that "TheMishneh Torah addresses the need to control how Jews live,
the Moreh Nevuchim the need to guide how Jews think ... we (Conservative
Jews) appropriate all of Maimonides, both the halachic and philosophical-
intellectual traditions . . . The truth is, there's no way of dropping out of the
modem world."

That the confrontation with modernism is a constant can be seen by way of
illustration. Gregorian Chant, codified from 590 to 604 c.e., consist of the largest
and oldest collection of "song" that we know of set down in neumes and still in
use. How fortunate for us that this was done because many studies exist and await
to be done on the relationship and influence of Jewish Chant on early Christian

Arnold Saltzman is the hazzan of the Adas Israel Synagogue in Washington, D.C

Chant. Studies by A.Z. Idelsohn, Eric Werner, and Joseph Levine have harvested
well. My illustration has to be with the origin of Gregorian Chant. The Chant can
be traced to three sources:

1. Jewish Chant of the Temple Cult

2. Syrian and Byzantine Chant

3. Popular songs of Greece, Egypt, Syria and Rome.

When we realize that the sacred music of the Catholic Church, at its inception,
had a logical and conscious borrowing from the Jewish liturgical tradition both
musically and textually, as well as Syrian and Byzantine chant systems (similar to
our trope system), and most significantly for our purposes, popular songs and
creative contemporary treatments, then we can make some broad generalization
and hypothesis with regard to our own musical traditions.

Can we claim that our great songs in the torah are popular or once were? The
use of the word popular here denotes widely used and widely known, as opposed
to common or vulgar use.

Did the temple service rely on:

1. Mi-Sinai tunes

2. borrowed chant and folk tunes

3. and popular, vulgar and composed tunes

that somehow people enjoyed and brought to the sacred texts?

A repulsive idea? Perhaps for some, but also a valid paradigm for all times.

SOME CHARACTERISTICS OF ROCK MUSIC
AND A BRIEF SUMMARY OF ITS HISTORY AND INFLUENCE

Since The Hush of Midnight is a work which has been described as a
folk-rock service, some period background is essential in order to understand its
role, its evolution, and its continuing importance.

Some of the characteristics of rock, including electronic sound, including
electric guitar, amplified sound, rhythm and blues sequences, riffs, and repetitive
chord patterns.

The rock of the 60' s was louder and was more verbal. It was more trance
music than dance music. The 50' s rock-n-roll relied more heavily on the dance,
while the 60' s, beginning with the songs of social conscience, moved away from
the dance and danceability of rock.

The days of hard rock were waning at the end of the 60's; flower children,
love me, and simple happiness. The rock musical came into being with Hair,
Godspell and Superstar. Born-again Christianity was on the rise, so were cults,
drugs, and the generation gap. Woodstock expressed and summarized, in one
super-gesture the climax of the flower child generation, while portending the
beginning of its decline. The counter-culture was embraced by many of our best
and most gifted youngsters. Just look at the confirmation photos — most never
came back. An entire generation, post-holocaust generation, was lured into the
counter-culture which became the mainstream culture of American youth.

Part of this was the direct result of the culture of TV, rock, the news media
explosion, and the LP record as an art form, along with the assassinations of the
Kennedys, and Martin Luther King, Jr., and most of all the disenchantment with
the handling of the Vietnam War from credibility gap to body counts.

In the synagogue there were those who knew the pulse of the young and
recognized that they were increasingly becoming alienated from their children.
The synagogues of mainstream America rationalized that they had to adapt.
Music was the ultimate expression of this generation. On college campuses Bob
Dylan had been voted most popular poet, while professors scrambled to find his
records. Not the music of Haftorah chanting or the Hazzan, but the music of the
rock band, electronics, amplified, beyond loud, with texts which analyzed our
entire culture and mocked its hypocrisies

The lure of music and the adaptability of Judaism united in a desperate
attempt to make the synagogue a viable place of worship for an alienated
generation. In some cases it failed, in some there were tremendous successes. The
Hush of Midnight is one of the successes.

Rock experienced a shock and transformation, its epiphany, with the release
of the Beatles album in 1968. This was a mocking revelation that showed rock
has a history and development as an art form. Indeed the fact that it is an art was
most contrary to its counter-culture spirit. While many rejected and reacted to
the external demonstrations of the young pop culture, some of our leaders, rabbis
and cantors, and educators tried to grapple with the shock waves of the changing
times. Experiments in the musical settings of services were becoming more
frequent as well as programs to reach out to our young people. Rabbi Arnold
Wolf of Chicago brought in the Black Panthers, banned Bar Mitzvah for its
excesses, and studied Martin Buber with youth groups on retreat. Israel had
direction, America had lost its way, and was groping with inner conflict. The
Munich Olympics was the shock that every Jew felt around the world.

The counter-culture had no real answer for evil in the world, nor had it ever
heard of holocaust or anti-semitism.

A few brave souls decided to redirect the synagogue with new music
programs, caring and yet concerned lest an entire generation lose the way.

"THE HUSH OF MIDNIGHT" - ANALYSIS AND EVALUATION

III

The opening measures are marked "sharp and incisive" setting up the driving
rhythm that holds this work together.

English Poetry by Ruth F. Brin

J. = 58 c , .

* D min ~*" ar P and incisne. Crisp

Music by Charles Davidson

(Add Fender Bass G.)

The minor melody presents a theme, which is based on nusach. This theme
which we will call Theme A, is another unifying force which is found in several
sections of the work. The repetitive use of this theme is what makes this work so
accessible to congregants. Its limited melodic range of D up to C and back down
to C, for a total of an octave range makes Theme A easy to sing for most. Its
minor mode gives it a plaintive quality, as well as an authentic modal quality.

Theme A is found in the opening "piyyut" In Darkening Shade, as well as in
Ashre.

We find it later on in the great Kaddish in the response "Y'hei shmei rabah
m Varach ".

Strict tempo
Moderate

nnj JTl

>k i ^i?

§P^

hei sh'mei rabah m' - va
3*33

r j -±= ±

3 3

CANTOR:

rach

I'- a - lam

eKnaj

ul'-al-mei al-ma-yah. Yit - ba-rach t Yit - ba

A Bin

3 3 3 , —3 — ^3-

A portion of Theme A may be found at the end of the phrase and as a
concluding formula in "In the Fall . .."

-r

^F 7 ' t $ 1 S v

when the but-ter-flies are dust

ft mifi k m«i tf win [7a oj

We re - pent us of our sins.

rfrtn

we re - nent us of our *ln«t

. . . and the words we repent us of our sins in the "Shalosh Esrei Midot". Theme A
is used in its entirety only with the addition of the suggestion that it be conducted
in one.

J.= circa »o (in p1 Qoe">,

^ mbltb Ugpti

i Jti

Pipi

A -do - nai,

* B mm

A - do

Imaj

#^fc

Eil ra

(H. C.)

tnp molto legato

'J"n3 tr-fl

1 I I

J J J I J

chum

G maj

cha - nun,
A maj D maj

G maj7

pjpjp

|peo) C maj

T7T

■^TT

As this section proceeds it becomes increasingly waltz-like in feeling, which
adds immeasurably to its appeal as a melody.

The next use of this congregational melody is in Shomer Yisrael Here the
ostinato quality and repetitive pattern of the melody held in the vocal line is
developed through the jazz-like chords and dissonances of the accompaniment.

The original score gave no indication of these measures so that many of the
patterns of development in the harmony and rhythm were improvised by
instrumentalists, and accomplished jazz musicians, such as Bruce Steeg, Bob
Dodlin, and George Hummel.

These musicians always seem to have the knack for making music with the
most general guidelines. This helps us to appreciate those studio musicians who
frequently go unnoticed, and who are improvisatory geniuses in their own right.

The final section of Shomer Yisraeil leads into Avinu Malkenu with the
sudden transition to a parallel Ahavah Rabbah mode on "C", building to the
congregational melody of Avinu Malkenu.

This Is The Hall

The second section "This is the Hall, this the hush, this the hour" is based on
nusach and Mi-Sinai themes, indeed the theme is related to the choral section in
Bb found in the Ashre: Page 19, ex. lines 2,3,4 and Page 6 Top sop. part meas.
1-4.

I rise to praise the Lord .

b | j J j 4- jy j—i j ^^

of all the Hv-ing .

and the

z=m

lone

-ifioi to legato

Ah.

dead.

l J { i ,]^ = 4-H-j-y-4

7~T r r r r f r

(53

? ^'

Removal of this theme (Theme B) from its metered and rhythmic context
reveals an authentic "davenen" motif, whose character has been melodically
preserved while contrasted with the exciting rock accompaniment of model and
chromatic chords. The unrelenting rhythm is characteristic of rock as are the
riff-like patterns in the accompaniment. These patterns have their own beauty as
well, for they imitate the melodic line and provide background to the penitant
vocal line. Because the harmony makes frequent use of a minor 7th chord (b7) the
melodic urge to ascend to the b7is true but never goes beyond. Once it reaches the
b7 it wants to descend This physical power of the Dorian Mode (on G) gives an
unresolved emotional quality appropriate to the text and the Selichoh motif.

Dorianmode DEFGABCD

1 Vi 1(1) 1 Vi 1
Dorian onG G A B b C D E F A

The congregational response "Irise to praise" is first heard in the accompa-
niment: Page 19 meas. 4 & 5, Page 20 all.

4 4 4 ' e

I rise to praise the Lord

I rise to praise .

I raise my

TOOT

TrfrtrTr

fc j y * \ *

Suggestions of counterpoint and an improvisation on Gm7 goes on for fourteen
measures. This extended use of sustained harmony, rhythmic patterns, and
repetitive themes based on nuschaot lend themselves to meditative and prayerful
qualities. The words and music combine here for effective penitential prayer with
the noisy world and its hectic pace as background.

"I rise to praise. I raise my voice, I lift my head despite the sick, despite the

dead, despite the cries of pain I rise to praise my Lord."

The tension builds with the repetition of the opening statement contrasting
more frequent musical interjection:

Congregation: I rise to praise
Cantor: And bless His name

building to the sudden announcement by the Hazzan of a call to the Holydays;
The Great Kaddish. The rock accompaniment halts for a startling and inspired
moment. The rhythm returns with the congregational melody. The melody is
traditional, but the treatment is bold and innovative.

For those purists who wish to retain more of the old world feeling of the
Kaddish before musaph of Rosh Hashanoh and Yom Kippur, I highly recom-
mend M. Issacson's treatment which is not rock-oriented inits rhythmic or
harmonic choices, but is traditional in mood and melody while being conserva-
tively modem and thoroughly usable in its harmonic treatment.

The Kaddish of The Hush of Midnight is high energy, for those with a
youthful outlook, while retaining the majestic sweep of its impressive themes.

Before the Wind

The use of Selichah motives continues throughout this next section. This ties
in with the creative poetry stating this is the time of the year for reflection,
memory, and gratitude to the Almighty.

The opening theme introduces the suggestions of Vidui motives of confes-
sional melodic themes: Page 30, L. 1-3.

Be-fore the wind shakes the bronze leaves from the

while the ma-ple is a-flame and the

pop-lar is still gold

we- give thanks to Thee.

This section is similar to the opening "In Darkening Shade" and "Ashre" in
that it uses a contrasting relief nigun, page 33, whose nusach and origin seem to be
rooted in the trope of Eichah (Book of Lamentations). Line 3, meas. 1 & 2

^'S.r—

a south-ern jour - ney.

£ ' UB^T J r~gD ' fli,'

a south-ern jour- ney _

This raises the question which should be examined elsewhere as to the influence
of the trope of Eichah on Selichah mode in general.

The regular use of the response "we give thanks to thee" constantly involves
the congregation: Ex. page 30, L. 3, meas. 3-4,

in such a way that anyone might learn the response. The Cantor, the Chorus, and
the congregation benefit greatly from this participatory approach.

L'Chu

For those of my colleagues who are wondering when they might have the
opportunity to show their vocal prowess, The Hush of Midnight offers ample
opportunities for cantorial inflection and articulation.

Set in the Ahavah Rabbah mode on E, UChu N'ran'nah offers an expressive
vehicle which fulfills our needs for Kavanah batefilak It also offers an instrumen-

talist a moment of improvisatory imitation and expression.

After this introduction, the Selichah theme returns with the urgency of a
clock in motion.

"I pray him bring me to repentance, but I bring myself to sorrow and to wish
for death."

The form is refrain or song form with the Hazzan chanting in Hebrew and in
Ahavah Rabbah while the refrain is in the minor mode.

Our next section as well, follows a similar format. The Mi-Sinai tune of Eil
Melech Yosheiv is similar to "this is the hall".

tn«- lech yo-sheiv al ki - set ra-cha- mlm, mit- na -helg ba-chB-jl- dut _

mo-chell * -

Brisk J = i7e

(4LeadG-, Fender fuss, Prrc.)

This is the hall, this the hush, this the

Adonai, Adonai

The use of % meter in the Shalosh Esre Midot as well as the return of the
opening theme is satisfying in its simplicity and rondo like in its ability to tie the
larger work together: Page 56 L. 1, 'Tn the fall" restates the transitional material.

J.= circa eo (m oge ,

^v motto legato

In the original score at this point, a responsive reading for rabbi and
congregation was inserted which was part of the work. The question arises here
as to some of the differences in the original manuscript and the newly published
printed edition by Ashbourne Music.

In the original score there were two added readings with improvised back-
ground mostly with rhythm instruments. The two poems are effective and
meaningful for the congregation, and Pm puzzled that they were omitted. They
offered some gentle relief to the constant musical drive and tension. Furthermore,
there are two sections, the Kaddish and Sh'ma Kolenu, which were in a key for
higher voices. I hope that the JNL of synagogue music or Charles Davidson will
make available both the poems and the alternate key transpositions.

When a work of music is thru-composed, the placement of readings is in
effect tampering with an artistic work. Not having information to the contrary,
the original booklet published by Adas Israel Congregation, Washington, D.C.,
which commissioned the work along with St. Paul Minnesota, contains these
poems which to me do not seem to be interruptions. Some of our colleagues think
that music has to be constant for a service, but we know "silence" is part of music
as well. A little rest in the music could be effective and helpful.

Readings, meditations, silences, are a part of the music and some balance needs
to be achieved. The poetic readings by Ruth Brin are an important part of the
effectiveness and beauty of The Hush of Midnight, and they should remain intact.

The booklet which accompanies the score is for congregational participation.
It contains some helpful instruction in ritual, such as when to respond and when
to repeat a phrase.

One addition to the booklet and score is the piyyut, Bemotzaey M enuchah. In
the booklet, it is not clear if the English given is by Ruth Brin or a translation.
Although this is not a serious problem, no instruction is given as to whether this is
read in English as well.

CONCLUSION
IV

At its inception Rabbi Stanley Rabinowitz, Cantor Raphael Edgar, Charles
Davidson, and Ruth Brin wanted to create a service which would appeal to
Americans of a new generation, Americans whose frame of reference was both
Jewish and American, musically and culturally. There is no question that The
Hush of Midnight has achieved something wonderful and meaningful. It has
created a firm tradition of Selichot of reverance in prayer and setting the
appropriate mood for the holy days. It has created a tradition in place where only
50 people attended Selichot, close to 1000 now attend. I believe this was
accomplished by basing this on both the traditional nusach while reflecting the
valid influence of contemporary American and 20th century music.

This is a wonderful service. I recommend it without hesitation, not to replace
the traditional service, but to create a service and a tradition in communities
where none exist.

JOSEPH FISHER:

MASTER PRINTER AND GREAT HAZZAN

AKIVA Zimmerman

1885 saw the founding in Cracow, Poland, of a printing house which was to
gain fame through its publication of the works of H.N. Bialik, as well as other
distinguished poets and authors. It was unique, too, in being the only Hebrew
publishing house to print works in Arabic. Its owner, moreover, was none other
than the noted hazzan, Joseph Fisher, who served the "Enlightened" synagogue in
that city. (Cracow, as is known, was traditionally a center of Haskalah activity.)

Fisher was born in Vilna in 1840. His parents sent him to the Mir Yeshiva,
where he excelled in his Torah studies. Blessed with both a handsome appearance
and beautiful voice, he was sometimes sent to lead synagogue services for the
people of the city. Simultaneously with his Yeshiva studies, though, he would
read furtively the works of the greatest Haskalah writers. These secret studies
soon inspired in him a passion for the new Hebrew literature which was being
created in Eastern Europe and Russia.

Fisher decided not to limit himself to rabbinic studies, but to become
proficient in some sort of creative work also. Despite his impressively developing
voice, he was aware that the cantor's lot was generally an impecunious one. He
accordingly determined to learn printing and typesetting skills, albeit without the
knowledge of his Yeshiva friends.

One of Mir's notaries soon became Fisher's father-in-law, and the latter
encouraged him to seek a permanent position as hazzan. Before he could agree to
do so, Fisher retorted, it was appropriate that he obtain a musical education. True
to his word, Fisher proceeded to enroll himself in the Breslau Conservatory in
neighboring Germany. He at the same time attended the Rabbinical School in
that city, and, typically, excelled in his studies. When the position of Chief Cantor
of the Breslau synagogue was offered him, Fisher was encouraged to respectfully
decline by his father-in-law, who understandably did not wish his daughter to live
in Germany.

When the "Enlightened" synagogue in Cracow advertised a vacancy for
position of Chief Cantor, it was 24 year-old Joseph Fisher who was the ulti-

Akiva Zimmerman is an expert on Hazzanim and HazzanuL A frequent
contributor in the Israel press on Hebrew and Yiddish culture: music y art,
literature, poetry, theatre and recordings.

mately successful candidate. (Incidentally, this was only the third synagogue of its
type in Galicia — two such congregations had heretofore existed, in Tamopol
and Lvov, respectively).

As a modem intellectual, Fisher found ample scope in Cracow to develop both as
a hazzan and as a booklover. Faithful to his earlier decision to engage in creative
labor of some kind, he examined the prospects of opening his own printing
business, but was disqualified as a Russian from doing so. Instead, he went into
partnership with Baruch Weindling. Their press soon issued various journals,
among which was the weekly Hator, edited by Avraham Gintzler.

In 1881 Fisher established a new printing business, this time jointly with one
S.H. Deutscher. The latter had access to the courts of the Zadikim, and it was due
to this auspicious connection that the partners were able to publish the works of
various Hassidic rabbis, including the famed Rebbe of Gur. The business lasted
for five years, and boasted as well among its publications the ultra-orthodox
weekly, Machzikei Hadas. In 1885 Fisher managed to obtain an independent
license to operate a printing business, and parted company with Deutscher. The
latter' s press, in turn, continued to function under the management of his son,
Moshe, until it was overtaken by the Holocaust.

A new world opened to Joseph Fisher when he became an independent
printer, and he enjoyed it to the full. It was rumored in Cracow that he was wont
to invest his entire cantorial salary in his business, while all profits made as a
printer were used to better finance his choir. The officers of his synagogue, it
should be noted, were quick to take unfair advantage of Fisher's well-meaning
weakness, by now and then firing a chorister or two in the certain knowledge that
the hazzan would replace the singers at his own expense!

Fisher's printing establishment soon came to be recognized as one of the
finest in the country. He expanded his operation, and even formed a department
specializing in the publication of Arabic literature — one of the very few extant in
Poland at the time. Fisher's erudite assistant was Judah Korngold, who himself
was aided by his son, Saul. Among those whose books Fisher printed were S.H.
Luzatto, and Martin Buber's grandfather, Solomon Buber. There appeared, too,
the anthologies Ha-Eshkol, Beit Ha-Otzar, and Mimizrach Umima'arav, inter
alia. In 198 1 Fisher helped the writer, R.A. Broides, publish his weekly Hazman,
and printed two of the latter' s books, Shtei K'tzavot and Shirim Atikim

When S.J. Puches, editor in Berlin of Hamagid, suffered a certain setback,
Fisher invited him to come to Cracow, where he helped him issue the journal.
The weekly, Hamitqah, edited by S.M. Lazar, and featuring some of S.Y.

Agnon's early writings, was similarly printed by Fisher. As were Avraham
Reizin's newspaper, Dos Yiddishe Vort; the earliest writings of Prof. Klausner;
and the journal Ha-Shiluach, edited by Ahad Ha' am.

One of Fisher's most magnificent books is a 1908 volume of poetry by Bialik,
illuminated by A. Yan. (This was the first ever Hebrew book of poetry to be thus
illustrated.) When Bialik began his Moriah enterprise, he let Fisher print much of
his material. The poet would come to Cracow, or, alternately, Fisher would visit
Odessa, and business would be conducted. Where his own volumes were
involved, Bialik was known to pay assiduous attention to the quality of book
production, yet would consistently employ no printer other than Fisher. The first
edition of Sipurei Ha-Mikra, edited by Bialik, Ravnitzky and S. Ben-Zion, was
issued by Fisher's press. (Bialik was later to establish his own printing concern,
though, and the professional ties with Fisher came to an inevitable end.)

An interesting episode in Fisher's career as a printer may be gleaned from
several issues of the weekly, Hapoel Ha-Tzair, normally published in Jaffa A
number of these issues were, in fact, printed by Fisher. The peculiar circumstances
which brought this about are traceable to the Eleventh Zionist Congress in Vienna.
The editor of the Hapoel Ha-tzir, J. Aharonovitz, traveled to the Austrian capital
to cover the story for his journal, and was assisted there by the writer Meir Henish.
The latter relates in his memoirs that another Hapoel Ha-Tzair editor, J. Shprin-
zak, thought it important that readers of the journal be apprised of the proceedings
in Vienna as quickly as possible. Since Aharonovitz had no way of getting the
news directly to his office in Jaffa, Shprinzak arranged for Fisher to print the
dispatches in Cracow, and from there send the pages on to Palestine.

Some of the best known "maskilim" at one time or another worked in Fisher's
printing house. One of these, Moshe Lefkovitz, went on to found his own business.
Another, the journalist Jonah Karpel, a native of the Galician town of Drokovitz,
married Fisher's daughter. Karpel edited the German-language weekly Judische
Volkstimme, which was printed in Hebrew letters. He was editor, as well, of a
Hebrew monthly bibliographic journal, Yerushalayim, and of other newspapers
and sundry publications. He later set up his own printing establishment. Fisher's
son-in-law was ultimately employed by the Austrian Foreign Service, though he
did not achieve his goal to become Austrian Consul in Palestine.

Despite his printer's obligations, Fisher never neglected his other life as a
hazzan, and was a perennial favorite of the Cracow community. Such was his
popularity, that hassidim would sometimes steal surreptitiously into the "Tem-
ple" as the excommunicated synagogue was called by certain groups), to listen to

Fisher's mellifluous chanting of the Services. During his last two decades at the
synagogue, Fisher became an intimate friend of its rabbi, the noted Zionist leader,
Dr. Osias (Yehoshua) Thon. The two would occupy their seats, side by side, on
the synagogue's honored eastern wall.

Well-known musicians served as Fisher's choir directors, including Israel
Feivishes, who set Y. Lamdan's "Masada". Fisher's house was a natural meeting
place for hazzanim and singers alike, and the gathering at one time included the
young Y. Rosenblatt. On one occasion, when Fisher asked Rosenblatt to perform
one of his hazzanic improvisations, the result was "Omar Rabbi Elazar, Omar
Rabbi Haninah", which Yossele later immortally recorded. Not unexpectedly,
Fisher thought very highly of the young hazzan, and his generous commenda-
tions did much to launch Rosenblatt's early career.

Joseph Fisher served his synagogue with distinction for a remarkable 50
years, before his death in 1914. The printing house which he had founded at 62
Grodzka Street in Cracow passed to his son, Maurice, but was, like much else in
the city, destroyed during the Holocaust.

The "Enlightened" synagogue still stands today, and is frequented by the sad
Jewish remnants of a more glorious communal past. It is a living monument,
nevertheless, to the indomitable spirit of Cracow's greatest hazzan — and master
printer — Joseph Fisher.

Translated by Aryeh Finklestein

YOM KIPPUR, 1988

Steve robles

Sitting, enveloped by

Inner Silence, a jaded,

Cynical silence, the

Music in my heart growing

Fainter, always fainter,

Until the sterile prayer continues

On my lips, but ceases within,

I hear the Chazzan's Song,
Its Pain, its strength,
The Heart

In all its persistent Mortality

And Affirmation;

I experience a renewal,
And the

Song inside me

Continues,

A little bit louder.

Steve Robles is a member of the Beth-El Zedeck Congregation in Indianapo-
lis, Indiana He is a Jew by choice and wrote this poem as a gift to his hazzan,
Robert Zalkin, on the occasion of his 25th anniversary with his congregation

PIRKEI HAZZANUT (1954-1962)

Max Wohlberg

FROM THE EDITOR

The Journal of Synagogue Music is proud to reprint a sample of the popular
"Pirkei Hazzanut" columns by Hazzan Dr. Max Wohlberg on the occasion of his
80th birthday. Wohlberg, hazzan, teacher and composer, is one of the world's
leading scholars in the area of Hazzanut He is Professor of Nusach at the
Cantors Institute of the Jewish Theological Seminary of America since its
founding, in 1952. A former president of the Cantors Assembly, his regular
column "Pirkei Hazzanut" appeared in "The Cantors Voice, "the forerunner of
this publication, since 1948.

DECEMBER 1954

As these lines are being written, in the season when even the fish in the sea
tremble, when heshbon hanefesh and introspection are the order of the day, it is
well that we do a bit of professional stocktaking and collective confessing of sins.
As sins of omission are more often overlooked than those of commission, we shall
limit our A I llatoim to things we neglected to do.

Al Het — For centuries we failed to record the Synagogue tunes of which
we were the custodians, so that today many are forever lost to us.

Al Het — We ceased to be concerned with the text of the liturgy of which
we were co-fashioners and thus, in this day of change and reform we have been
relegated to a state of voteless executors.

Al Het — For permitting artistry to gain ascendency over the sacred in our
profession.

Al Het — For suffering without protest the invasion of our ranks by men
without learning and without devotion.

Al Het — For not having established, a century ago, a school for Hazzanim.

Al Het — For not having acquired all the skills and all the knowledge
needed to make us authoritative Hazzanim.

Al Het — For not preserving for posterity the creations of many of our old

masters.

Al Het — For failing to demand the prestige due our calling.

Al Het — For not contributing our just share to the cultural and musical
development of our people.

Al Het — For countenancing the emergence of degrading customs relative
to our functions.

Al Het — For not informing our people of our trials, efforts and achieve
ments.

And as we resolve to rectify our mistakes, may we be forgiven, pardoned and
absolved.

NOVEMBER 1957

One of my childhood heroes was a distinguished, immaculately attired,
dignified business man. He was short, had a miniature goatee, wore black or dark
gray suits and a derby. He was not numbered among the greater scholars of our
Transylvanian city but, I believe, he always held some office in our Kehillah and
was treated with great deference.

However, my admiration of him was based on considerations of a more
compelling nature! It was his privilege to intone the Birkhot haShahar and the
P'sukei deZ//nrah on the High Holidays. He led us in the nusah-wise, intricate
Hoshanah Kabbah service and he was chosen to examine in nusah the Russian
Cantor who aspired to fill the vacancy in our beautiful Synagogue.

He, therefore, personified in my mind the attitude of esteem in which nusach
was held in the recent past. It was considered a precious element of our heritage
and its custody was the responsibility of every Jew. Rebuke and censure was the
lot of him who, while leading a service, failed to sing the traditional tune of the
particular season or festival. A newly engaged Cantor was customarily granted a
few months during which time he had to master all locally current tunes.

Obviously, such an attitude of respect for a musical tradition cannot prevail
where Synagogue attendance is only an occasional act, where proper nushaot are
not scrupulously adhered to, and where, due to exigencies of time, large portions
of the liturgy, with their special tunes, are indiscriminately eliminated. This is
particularly painful when the eliminated tunes are not applied to another text.
Then we are, in fact, depleting our musical heritage.

The time may not be distant when a Jewish musicologist will be engaged in

unearthing the melodies discarded from our Synagogue services during the past
hundred years. Is there someone interested in organizing a new Jewish society:
"Shomrei Nushaot"?

FEBRUARY 1958

The first Hassidim we are told in the Mishnah (Berukot V, 1), spent an hour
before prayer in order to achieve a mood of devotion. Properly, they looked on
prayer as a great spiritual adventure, requiring adequate preparation and concen-
tration. They realized that it is almost impossible to transport oneself from a
commonplace and mundane atmosphere into one of holy awe without a period
of transition. They also sensed that one ought to shake off the dust of the road
before approaching the throne of the Almighty.

The need for attunement with the spirit of the Synagogue liturgy before
praying, is a need seldom realized in our own day. Because of this we, all too
often, fail to achieve the full measure of emotional satisfaction from our prayers.

Considerations of time, having acquired a quality of such urgency, it is
difficult to assume attitudes of contemplation, meditation, introspection and
devotion. Hurriedly we rush into our prayers, and breathlessly we gallop through
them, always keeping an eye on the relentlessly moving hands of the clock. Is it
any wonder that we miss the warmth and the fervor that accompanied the
prayers of old? How much inspiration can be derived by a worshipper who darts
into the Synagogue in the middle of the service, worried by parking problems and
remains in the rear of the Sanctuary, so that he can rush out at a predetermined
time, irrespective of the point in the service7

To be among the first ten to arrive for prayers and among the last ten to leave,
was a distinction highly valued in days gone by. Would it not serve as a fine
example for our Congregations if the first to arrive for services would find the
Rabbi and Cantor at their places, reciting mezza voce the Birkhat Hashahar?

Some of the beautiful prayers that fell victim to recent editorial deletion could
be reintroduced here and chanted at leisure. If, as it seems, we cannot delay
ending the service beyond a given time, perhaps we can advance its beginning
and so afford those who wish a more perfect communion with their Maker an
opportunity to enter into it gradually and more fully.

SEPTEMBER 1962

The question whether the needs of the day produce the required leader, or the

gifted leader molds his generation, has been thoroughly debated by historians and
biographers.

Surely it is frustrating and painful for a potential leader to appear on the scene
in "advance" of his generation; it is, however, far more tragic for a generation in
need to be deprived of leadership.

Fortunately, it is with sufficient frequency that the aptly gifted person appears
at the appropriate time to fulfill the necessary task. The history of mankind, as well
as the history of our people, offers ample evidence in support of these statements.

To cite but a few examples: R. Yohanan Ben Zakkai and R. Gamliel literally
saved Jewry at a most crucial period in our history. Thanks to R. Yehuda Hanasi,
Rab, Samuel and R. Ashi, we have that vast literature which proved to be the
foundation of Judaism for more than a millenium — the Talmud. As the Gaon
Amram preserved our liturgy, and as Saadiah pioneered in Jewish religious
philosophy, so the giant Maimonides codified Jewish law in the monumental
Mishna Torah. Each of these men appeared to fulfill a vital mission at a time in
desperate need of their services. The Commentators, particularly the great Rashi,
rose to clarify the obscure and puzzling passages of Bible and Talmud.

Jacob B. Asher and Josef Karo introduced their codes to meet the needs of a
new generation, and a literature called Responsa was born to accommodate the
pressing problems of a changing world. The Ari and the Baal Shem were as
timely and inevitable as were Pinsker and Herzl, Bialik and Mendele. R. Jacob
Molin succeeded in delineating the Ashkenazic Nusach at a decisive period,
when the cleavage between Ashkenazic and Sephardic Jews became more
pronounced, and Solomon Sulzer, in witnessing the effects of post-Napoleonic
emancipation, received the impetus to give a new form to the ancient art of
Synagogue music.

Having just returned from a visit to Israel, it seems to me that in regard to the
music of our liturgy, ours is a crucial age calling for assiduous and meticulous
labors. I view the enormous tasks awaiting urgent attention in three different
stages and on three distinct levels.

1) To collect and to record the music of all formerly far-flung, now defunct,
Jewish communities. This can still be done while some of the She'eritHapleitah
is with us.

2) To cleanse and to purify the collected material. This difficult task of study,
analysis, research and comparison requires knowledgable and trained musi-
cologists.

3) Gifted composers who, having absorbed the results of the preceding efforts,

would endeavor to write aNusach for Klal Yisrod, combining the prominent
features of the three main branches of Judaism: the Ashkenazim, the European
Sephardim, and the Oriental Sephardim.

There is now discernible throughout the Jewish World a conscious approach
between the divergent factions of Jewry. I can think of no more effective method
to strengthen the approach and to cement the ultimate fusion than through a
common mode of worship.

The need is present. Will the men equipped for this task respond?

A SONG IN EVERY PSALM

BY JACOB LEFKOWITZ: A REVIEW

LIPPMAN Bodoff

On Sunday, February 1, 1987, at the 92nd Street YMHA, my wife and I were
privileged to hear the world premiere of a wonderful new musical work, "A Song
in Every Psalm", composed by Cantor Jacob Lefkowitz of Congregation Etz
Chaim of Jacksonville, Florida. The work consists of short musical settings for the
Psalms, and excerpts were stirringly sung in song cycle form by the composer's
son, Cantor David Lefkowitz of The Park Avenue Synagogue in New York — the
flagship synagogue of the Conservative Movement in this country.

I did not expect anything like what I heard. Those of us who attend
synagogue services on a fairly regular basis, or who are somewhat familiar with
Jewish music as it appears in synagogues, on records, in concert halls (where it
rarely appears), and as it is taught to Jewish boys and girls in Hebrew schools, are
by now familiar with the fact that Jewish music today generally falls into a set
number of stereotypes. There is "Klezmer" and chasidic music, Israeli dance,
love, and pioneer music, the old weeping style cantorial music, heavy, formal
and overblown compositions, and works in modem idioms. Except where the
music and its performance are of special artistry, it rarely moves us and rarely
instructs us. It is too often either boring or cold, with a lack of the warmth and
interest that are necessary to join music and people together the way Jews and
Jewish music have been fused as one virtually throughout our history.

This modern alienation of our people from part of its Jewish soul — which
Jewish music has always represented — is partly the fault of the fast moving,
fragmented, and overly stimulated era in which we live, and, to a large degree, of
the music itself and the way it is performed. What used to be meaningful has
become trite and sentimental, or irrelevant to the sophisticated, eclectic tastes of
modem Jews.

There are, however, composers like Shlomo Carlbach, Ralph Schlossberg,
Abraham Kaplan, Shalom Kalib, Jerome Kopmar, and a few others, who have
created new music we can treasure, because it is linked in its warmth with our
past but speaks in a lean, modern way, and with a technique of composition that
addresses the mind as it inspires the heart.

In this select company one must include Cantor Jacob Lefkowitz. His music
eschews heaviness and effects for their own sake. It is steeped in tradition, but
completely subservient to the text, which it serves with a lyricism that communi-
cates with direct, pulsating impact the meaning of the text and its emotional force.

I believe that his new musical setting of the Psalms, even on the basis of the few
times I have heard it, may already deservedly be considered a classic of new Jewish
music. The poetry of the Psalms has fittingly been ascribed to King David, because
it is the poetry of kings. It embraces, as David did in his life, the full spectrum of
experience, emotion, and thought, from defeat to triumph, from despair and
petition to praise and joy. And the Psalms are never without dignity, never without
strength, never without the joy and confidence that King David feels of his life and
its worth, and the power and compassion of his Father and King.

Jacob Leikowitz's music is worthy in every respect of King David's Psalms.
He has captured their soaring optimism of faith and joy in his wondrous new
work. Playing my tape again recently I was startled not only at how fresh each
short piece sounded on rehearing and how singable eachpiece is, but how difficult
it was to single out any one for special praise because each is so distinctive.
Among my favorites are the lively march for Psalm 3 with its pressing, bursting
"kuma, kuma, kuma "(rise up, rise up, rise up); the wonderfully frenzied music in
Psalm 10 (Arise, Lord! God!); the moving Psalm 15 ("Lord, who may abide
in Your sanctuary") with its traditional but lean cantorial style — lyrical, with
deft modem touches — and so true to the text (as each piece is), as the music gives
each of the attributges of the righteous man its own distinctive musical phrase; the
brilliant, exciting and tuneful "patter" style song for Psalm 28 ("Deliver Your
people"), punctuated with declamations and syncopations that propel and
underscore the text with such deft mnsicality; the unspeakably beautiful and
tender rendering of the famous Psalm 34, "Who is the man who is eager for life . . .
guard your tongue from evil"; the heartbreaking music for Psalm 78 ("But He,
being merciful") that brings us back, with a few deft strokes, to the highest level of
cantorial singing as rendered by Yossele Rosenblatt at his compositional best; the
almost swaggering and so aptly confident Psalm 79, where David cries out "Help
us, God ... for the sake of the glory of Your name" — that is, for Your sake! —
with that special joy of chasidic music at its best that reflects a Jew's joy as he
stands before God in prayer; the gentle, wondrous quality of gratitude of Psalm
85 ("Faithfulness and truth have embraced"), with its idyllic American flavor,
describing God's bounty to man; the classical marching mode used to describe
the elemental forces of nature in Psalm 93 ("The Lord is King, He is robed in
grandeur"); the tuneful, lively, syncopated Psalm 133("Hinay ma tov u'ma
na'im") and its contrasting middle section that transports us instantly to an
evening campfire in Israel under a peaceful sky; and the lively march of Psalm
150 with its urgent, pressing "Hallilu" ("give praise") in a syncopated, accented,
form that culminates in a short triumphant code.

Merely to traverse the scope of this music is to suggest in the barest and most
inadequate way the treat that awaits all those who will be privileged to listen to
this music. And here I want to make two final points.

First, as Cantor Macy Nullman has written in his important new work,
"Concepts of Jewish Music and Prayer" (Hallmark Press 1985) the composition
of new Jewish music for the synagogue, if it is to be meaningful and attractive to
modem listeners, requires "experience in hearing and performing authentic
synagogue song, technical training, historical knowledge, a sense of style, and
(the right) blend of all these elements" (at p. 77). In a recent article in Judaism: A
Quarterly Journal of Jewish Life and Thought (Winter Issue 1987), I wrote that
"it is time for a new, post-Holocaust approach to the music of prayer, that stresses
neither the virtuoso cries of the oppressed of our past nor the trivial 'pop-art' of
fad tunes of our present, but, rather, a lyrical and sophisticated rendering of the
kaleidoscope of themes and emotions in our liturgy" (at p. 103). The modem Jew
at worship not only needs, but longs for the moral dimension of art, and the
artistic dimension of worship. He craves music anchored in the past in its passion
and its compassion, but looking forward with optimism and a sense of dignity. I
believe Cantor Jacob Lefkowitz has written a major work that fulfills all these
hopes and aspirations for new Jewish music.

My second point is of a more pressing nature, but one which must be made if
wonderful music like Jacob Lefkowitz' s Psalms is to have a "kiyum': a life and a
future among our people — and, indeed, because of its universal artistic nature,
hopefully among an even wider sphere of listeners. I refer to the necessity that
artists perform this work, and that we— the collective Jewish people from
whose life and history it has been taken and which it so eloquently represents in
its many hues and shapes — that we bring this music into our lives, our homes,
our synagogues, and schools, in records, tapes, and live performances, in what-
ever reproduction forms we favor. Only in this way will all of us be able to
experience the music as my wife and I did that winter day not long ago, and make
it a permanent part of our culture, as it deserves to be.

MOGEN OVOS AND V'SHOMRU
BY CHARLES B. BLOCK: A REVIEW

Howard N. tushman

Thirty-one years have passed since Hazzan Charles Bloch first published his
solo versions of Mogen Ovos and V shomru. Three years later these pieces were
published in the S.A.T.B. versions. Both editions of each piece were arranged by
Vladimir Heifetz. The solo and choral versions follow one another very closely.

Mogen Ovos and V shomru clearly fall into the category of "Synagogue
Anthem", that genre which to me lies somewhere between simple accompanied
chazzanut and more elaborate concert works. Seen in this context both work
effectively, though I tend to favor theV shomru. The form of the V shomru is
closer to Art Song than the Mogen Ovos, and as such takes greater melodic and
harmonic liberties. There are sequences, descending chromatic passages, and
echo figures in the accompaniment. Though not overly done, to the modem
listener some of these devices seem to work better than others. The ending is
particularly rich and beautiful.

The melody of Mogen Ovos draws upon nusach with added elements of
haftarah trope. It is somewhat metrical, relying on the tripletdotted quarter
rhythm. The accompaniment is straightforward and does a good job of keeping
out of the way of the melody line. The piece is overall quiet in mood with the
exception of the ending, a stirring agitato like climax.

One of the more interesting aspects of these pieces is how well each lends itself
to choral rendition. They are both of moderate difficulty and suitable for a very
good volunteer choir or professional ensemble. Though the choral versions were
published three years later, one could not say for sure whether the original concept
in each case was that of a solo or choral work. It would be interesting to know.

Taken together, V shomru and Mogen Ovos form a nice couplet, compliment-
ing each other in style and mood. They are a tribute to a composer whose sense of
balance lends grace to two worthy settings.

Howard N. Tushman is hazzan at Emanuel Congregation in Chicago, Illinois.

JEWISH THEATRE SONGS for the Beginning Beginner
Piano Solos & Duets Book II
Compiled & Arranged by Ruth Norman
Century Music Publishing Co., Inc. shom klaff

This charming compilation of Yidish theatre songs for very beginning piano
students fills a long-standing musical void by bringing together Jewish musical
identify and secular musical skills. The songs are clearly presented and printed.
They are easy to follow, carefully arranged and kept simple without a loss of
musical interest. Musical notations such as key signature change, accents and
emphasis on melodic line are well-noted and easy for any beginning student to
comprehend. The transliteration of the Yiddish verse is extremely well-done so
that even those students totally unfamiliar with Yiddish inflection can confidently
do well on pronunciation. If there is any thing the book lacks, and it may not have
as its intention addressing itself to it, is progressive musical skill level advancement
to challenge the beginning student's increasing skill level progression.

This book should be a welcome addition to any music teacher's selection for
beginning students. Parents and grandparents with memories of Yiddish theatre
will probably thrill to the nostalgia evoked by the playing of these delightful songs.

Shorn Klaff is a Jewish music teacher and pianist.

MUSIC SECTION

Tov L'hodos

(The 5??d Psalm)
For Four-Part Chorus of Mixed Voices

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Soprano

Alto

Tenor

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(Only for

rehearaaJjJ

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tov 1' - ho-, do?,

do - noy ,

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la - do - nov,_ tov

, Prtuc the. Lord., X>

roco piu mosso » = n«

V - ho -dos
smg And ^r*/je

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t* v V - ho - do? la
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do - noy,
lord

la - r.->v

pr&is? - . *.orQ

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ma marv.

la - do - noy,

raise the Lord

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sing And bruise-

la - do - noy la - do -

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a , pt-Aise

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serfta voce,
ma marc.

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la - do -noy,
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la - do- noy,
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la - do- noy

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bnuse.

la - do - noy,

smg And f^TdJse.

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va - a - lay

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a - lay hi - ^o - yon b' - chi -

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yon b* - chi - nor;

itenks And our love

a - lay hi - gn - vfn b - chi -

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yon h' - chi - nor,

iifrftAJKs *>* our /ai>e

y^On b" - chi - nnr ;

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j_ j i n J ^

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nor, _

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|i" - c)n - n. >r. Ki j-i - marh - ta - ni.
*W our iovt for ifce i,on^ <h*d-

ki ^i-mach- ta - ni A do - nov. A

For th± Lord God *7*fc m< rt. ~ yo/cc

ki si-math-ta- ni A - dn - n<iy, ki si-marh-ta- ni.

For #* Urd God wad* we re -jotce, nude, me n-jmic*

jo/cc--

Iti >i- niarh - ta -tii,

J-ra r^rr

W41Z

ki si - mach - ta
We. we re- joict-

ki m - mach - ta - ni A - do
m4de wje re-jo/ee */i Jfa .

ki si - mach - ta - ni

ki si-marh - ta - m A - do
wad'e »?« ne -jotce. in His

noy, |i a fo - o - ]e - cho.

b l - fn - o - If - cho.

sing we. Hit fcrauj-es

noy, ^u,_ii fo - o - ]r - cho,

4^- p

h' - fo - o - le - cho.
Sing we Hit frets - es

noy, b r - fo o - le - cho.

7MJ77C to+h So* fe*tiottt> vore V&Ujz_JJ±__

h" - fo o - le - cho.

Sing *<. His firqjs - es

42272

»j- ilia - a - oa.j j" - ut - Lin;, ^_^_

For •&* Lord God m«dc ttfe rt-/o*ce -

X prsfTit re

B- ma- a - sav yo - de - cho,
For frt« J*r4 6*4 Wem«vw-

f pesahfe

B' - ma - a - >ay

TfttWe.

itf —

i i

■WfJi

— — ' ■ — ■ — ■

YY — j —

* f T f '

r ■ - f

r f F

yo - de - chu t b 1 - ma - a - say yo

de - cho a - ra -

In Thy $*d

de - cho a - ra

yo - de - cno. t> - ma- a - say yo ne - cno a - ra -

v r J r — i - p p r m r i 1 i rr

yo - de - cho, b' - ma - a - say yo

Thou,. Lor i n ^)«n»-jo/ct_

de - cho a - ra

In Thy f*<*L

Chn

r»* re-j*/c«u-

h' - ma - a - say yo

made we nt-jo/c*. —

de - cho a - ra

In 7?>y qotd

42i!7i!

$nd 7>»y 7>anre Sing

sm - math •

we. *n<i

nf;n l

k i *i - ma^h - ta - ni

4V fl.

work

*'"tf *^* *"^ br&itc Hirri

|^— | | J_

^" O^ , » ■ ^~a

i-4

<^-J

* A ? kJ 1- J —

~** — H

[ «*_

for +h& £ord Goc/ »ade >*. rc-jo/ce-

ki si-mach - ta - ni,

Sing we. andpmuHtm

ki si-mach -ta~ ni A - do -
for 4ht Lo**d Ged 77f#k ?»e re-

ta - ni, ki m - mach - la - ni A

f raise. Him $M$ w*. and brtistftfrn Pr^se, 1

ki si- mach - ta - ni.

S*r>$ We and pr*j& Him

f i r lli_j

4227Z

ki si - roach -
wiA^e me- re -

g$£

noy, ki si-mach-ta- ni,\
Him > Sing' we and fmue Htm

*P P *

ki si - mach- ta - ni

5/ng we *nd j>ran& Uim

* | | | j g j i

'P P P

ki si-mach- ta - ni,\

Sing' we and fr&s^iitr?}

ki si-mach - ta - ni,\

■Qf I 'r j >■■ j i >r r i J I

t Je/ ^~

A - do noy, b' - fo - o - le - cho, b' -

J P O ii i i I «r a i ij J * j i

— j*

> - do
ffftfflfe re

noy. A - do - now b' - fo - o - le - cho, b*

jo/ce > re-- -j o«g, % lH So/f?7oif mn '***-***- *«>g

A o r — > j v "> y soffo voce ~~ — -j^i

9 ' » p p p p~f g P T7> j j i *r r i »r

ki n-mach-ta- ni A - do - noy, b* - fo - o - le - cho

For ±fre Lord&xiTwkm re -jmci^ W#h so- t$q$ fffi r0 W^±

ki si-mach-ta- ni A - dn - noy,

Fortt#W<W»»<**r« re-jo/ce.

b' -

fo - o - le - cho

4 * e ^'* ^»*-c*

fn - o - le - cho

fo - o - le - eh" - :

n 1h - tho

Moderato largamente * = ns

b' - ma - a

b* - ma - a - say

b* - ma - a
y ^r Thy qotxi worK —

Moderate Targamente # t »«

yo -

tve_

**-

de - cho a - ra - nen.

de - cho a - ra - nen,

frratst Thee <W dt- - C/*/-e

a - ra nen

7Ky j**^ 77*i»c

,,, ^y fo^ 7iawe.

a - ra nen.

de - cho

a -

nen.

C/*re

a -

7fcy

ra - nen.

-t*s-|-

m rJ

-**

— &

* (s

rt f*

_|l —

p=d

_ 1

■

■ . _ . .

New York
March 24, 1846

Qntro.

cAndantz

AV HARACHAM IM (cantorialduet)

MUSIC: Brody/arr, A. Salfeov

my a-temfe ©

< Wd r

AV HA- RA

HA- RA-CHA-MIM

AV HA- RA-OiA- MIM

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ha- ra-cha-mia- Av ha- ra-cha- mia

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HU Y»-RA- CHEM HU Y«-RA- CHEM

AM A- MX)- SIM

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htf y'-ra- chem

hu y*- ra-chem

a- moo- sin

SJQ

V»- YIZ- KOR B«- REET E- TA- - NBEM , V«

p > p n n

v 1 - yiz- kor b»- reet sa^ *a- - n^em, v

*=f

ij i j>

r e tr

if A- TSEEL, V'-YA

rr^ fr

YA- TSEEL, V'-YA-TSEEL NAF- SHO- TE- NU

pi 1)1 iW'iV* l ^t/Hl^ p

ya- tseel, v'-ya- tseel naf^sho- te- nu Bin ha-sha-ot ha-ra ot

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Con noto

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yjG-AJ? B'-YE-TSER HA-J?A MIN HAN-SU- EEM, V'-YIG- AR B 1 - YE-TSER HA-RA

mtni}!&mbt)M)§

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yig-ar b'-ye-tser ha-ra min han-su- eea, v'-yig- ar b 1 - ye-tser ha-ra

Pun m hk

min han-su- eea, v'-yxg- ar b'- ye-xser na-ra

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4 A.

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lIf-lB- tat o-la- meem lif-le- tat o- LA- ME1

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LIF-LE- TAT O- LA- MEEM

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ft ftfvl- \iMJ)Mh J r M

VEE -MA-LB

MISH-A-LO-TE-NU B<~MEE- DAH TO- VAH B*

mish-a-lo-te- nu

b»-mee- dah to- vah b f

^fQjJf J'J'fifr jj i j I* N

MEE- DAH TO- VAH Y»- SHU-AH V«-RA-CHA- MEEM

B'-MEE- DAH TO- VAH, B'-

mee- dah to- vah y*- shu-ah v'-ra-cha- meem

' pm

B'-oee- dah to- vah, b'-

v >n> i»¥

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MEE- DAH TO- VAH, Y»- SHU- AH V« - RA- CHA- MEEM,

$** Oti t JM ^ ^

dah to- vah, y 1 - shu- ah v 1 - ra- cha-

ti/n j

P
x

J*to L ' MAAN ACHAI V RAY-AY

AdAlio can mato tVauien*

a e2_ ^*&»a fiw '

L'aa- an a- chal

1 -=c*y

noh, a- dab- ro

, aho- loa, aho- loa, aho- ion boch, 1*-

■a- an bait A-<io-nay E- la-

■a- an bait A-do-nay E- lo- hay-. 'V nu ^. == - a-

vak sho, a- vak — ataota tov loch -=^^

-'tftu loch - --.. — . tov- tov. tov —

A - do- ^

y»- vo-raich et a- ao» a-mo va- aho^

CHOWS;

ADON OLAM

Music:

Cral^ Morris
«7

^f^i-J^nlir) Jii'flAflfti

A- DON O- LOH A- SHER MO- LACH

te&&&m-nm

B»- TS-RBM KDL Y'-TSIR KIV-

ttO L'-AIT NA- SO

CHEF-TZO KOL A- ZAI MB- LECH

MO NIK- RO

V»- a- cha- ray kich- lot ha- kol 1'- va-

V«- hu e- chod v f - ayn ahay- nea 1»- haa-ahll

a _- V<- hu e- chod v 1 - ayn ahay- nea 1\- 1

*> do yi»- loch ho- ro^*— ' v*- hu ho- yoh ^'v*- hu ho-

vah v'-hu yi- yah
lit, v»-lo ho- ox

b'- tif- o- ro
v'- ha- Mia- ro

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