Cantors Assembly Journal of Synagogue Music

Journal
of

Synagogue
Music

:

December 19 8 9 . Tevet 5750

• Vol

XIX . No. 2

From the Editor

Jack Chomsky 3

Articles:

Helvetia-lsrael-America:
Identity in Bloch's Life and Music

Alexander Knapp 5

Making Midrash Out of Music:
A Study of Katchko's Ki K'shimkha

Shoshana Gelfand 17

Gershon Ephros, 1890-1 978:

A Remembrance at His Centenary

Max Wohlberg 28

Yehudah Mandel:

Appointed on Recommendation

of the Rogochover Gaon

Akiva Zimmerman 34

Toward the 21st Century:
Creating the Future in Jewish Music

Michael Isaacson 37

Music Selection:

Ki K's himkha

Adolph Katchko 40

Hashkivenu

Jacob Koussevitsky-David Lefkowitz 42

Mikolot Mayim Rabim

Jacob Lefkowitz, an. J. Golden 44

JOURNAL OF SYNAGOGUE MUSIC, Volume XIX, Number 2
December 1989 I Tevet 5750

EDITOR: Jack Chomsky

MANAGING EDITOR: Samuel Rosenbaum

EDITORIAL BOARD: Ira Bigeleisen, Stephen Freedman, Edwin Gerber,
Paul Kowarsky, Robert Scherr, David Silverstein.

OFFICERS OF THE CANTORS ASSEMBLY: Robert Kieval, President;
Nathan Lam, Vice President; Stephen J. Stein, Treasurer; Abraham Lubin,
Secretary; Samuel Rosenbaum, Executive Vice-President.

JOURNAL OF SYNAGOGUE MUSIC is a semi-annual publication. The
subscriptionfee is $15. 00 per year. All subscription correspondence should be
addressed to Journal of Synagogue Music, Cantors Assembly, 150 Fifth
Avenue, New York, New York 10011.

Articles and Letters to the Editor should be addressed to Cantor Jack Chomsky,
Editor, Journal of Synagogue Music, 1354 East Broad Street, Columbus, Ohio
43205. Articles should be typewritten and double-spaced. Music and musical
examples should be photo-ready.

Copyright © 1989, Cantors Assembly

FROM THE EDITOR

This issue of the Journal of Synagogue Music should please all of our
readers. We have assembled a number of different articles on wide-
ranging subjects which provide some scholarship, some history, some
biographical data, and some music-something for everyone, we hope.

The lead article by Alexander Knapp provides great insight into the
writings (both personal and musical) of the composer Ernest Bloch.
Professor Knapp' s piece provides new understanding while stripping
away some old cliche-ridden ideas associated with Bloch' s work and
creativity.

Shoshana Gclfand's study of Katchko's Ki K'shimkha reminds us of
how important it is for hazzanim to think about every note and every
syllable which they sing. I'm not sure whether Katchko himself was aware
of all of the nuances which Ms. Gelfand finds in his composition. Indeed,
I believe that musical analysis usually turns up more detail in a
composition than the composer originally was aware of. Yet the validity
of her comments stands on its own, and suggests that, when we chant using
our hearts, souls, and minds, someone out there is listening.

In the category of personal histories, we are pleased to include Max
Wohlberg's sketch of the life of Gershon Ephros, whose centenary is
celebrated in 1990, as well as Akiva Zimmerman's anecdotal history of our
beloved Ychudah Mandel.

"Toward the 21 st Century" is Michael Isaacson's latest reminder to us
of the importance of commissioning new music with some helpful
suggestions on how to do it successfully.

The Music Section includes three works. First, we chose to print Ki
K'shimkha in its entirety since it is taken apart phrase by phrase elsewhere
in this issue. Though this is without adoubt already in the librariesof some
of our readers, it would seem unjust not to print the entire work after Ms.
Gelfand' s impressive examination of it. We also publish two pieces sent
to us by David Lefkowitz — an unaccompanied setting of Hashkivenu
which Lefkowitz based on a recitative by Jacob Koussevitsky, and an
accompanied arrangement of Mikolot Mayim Rabim.

We would happily present some excerpts of more contemporary new
works in the Music Section as well. Those of you who have written or
commissioned such works are welcome to send them to us for publication
or excerpting. In the case of commissions, please be sure to secure the
composer's permission before yousendus the material. It will save us time
and effort.

■Jack Chomsky

HELVETIA - ISRAEL - AMERICA:
IDENTITY IN BLOCH'S LIFE AND MUSIC

Alexander Kn.

/ am thrice homeless: as a Bohemian among A ustrians; as an A ustrian
among Germans; and as a )ew in the world at large. Everywhere, one
is an intruder; nowhere is one accepted.

■Gustav Mahlerl

How remarkably similar is the following statement:

Here, I am a "Swiss composer" ■ In Europe, I am an "'American
composer" ■ I have no home, no country.,.1 have no place anywhere.
I am not wanted anywhere It is a very sad situation.

These words come from a letter written by Ernest Bloch in 19282 in
San Francisco to his friend Alfred Pochon, the year after he had won
outright the Musical America prize, for his Epic Rhapsody America, from
a field of 92 competitors. Disappointment at the lack of personal
recognition and 'belonging' are leitmotifs (among many others) that recur
frequently throughout a lifetime of correspondence with his numerous
friends around the world. In order to understand something of his feelings
as an emigre composer - among the first of his generation to settle in the
U.S.A. ■ we must first investigate the ingredients that made up his sense of
idcn tity.

His family, both on his mother's side and on his father's side, had for
six generations and more been established in a small part of Western
Europe bounded by North Switzerland, South- West Germany and Alsace.
Though lift had been difficult for them economically and socially, they
had been spared the excesses of persecution meted out to Jews elsewhere.

Bloch was born in 1880 and, from his earliest days, felt ambivalent
about his geographical and religious surroundings. On the one hand, he
loved the mountains near his native Geneva; he responded to the
unsophisticated wisdom of the local peasantry. But, on the other hand,

ALEXANDER KNAPP is a pianist, musicologist and ethomusicologist in
Cambridge, England.

anti-Semitism was an ever-present fact of life, and as a sensitive child he
was quick to pick this up. His father, Maurice, would intone Sabbath and
Festival services in the home, and the atmosphere and music made a deep
impression on the child. But although traditional in matters of observance,
Maurice did not disguise his agnosticism. This double standard, together
with distasteful memories of the behavior of congregants in the synagogue
and in the Jewish community at large, tarnished the boy's perception of
Judaism. Already the seeds of inner conflict and confusion were being
sown; and the only source of genuine security came from the simple
spirituality of his mother, Sophie.

Some of his early misfortunes in Europe were the direct result of anti-
Semitism. A case in point is the extraordinary episode during which the
French critic Robert Godet took Bloch into his confidence while, at the
same time, secretly translating Houston Stewart Chamberlain's
Foundations of the Nineteenth Century into French (the book was to form
the basis for "intellectual Nazism" a few years later).

Finances became so bad, opportunities so few, that working abroad
seemed the only option. Bloch's letters of 1915 and 1916 reveal the level
of his despair and desperation. When at last invited to be conductor for the
dancerMaudAllanandhercompanyonatouroftheU.S.A.in 1916,Bloch
accepted with alacrity, although the First World War was at its height. The
works he took with him , including the Jewish Cycle (comprising Three
Jewish Poems, Three Psalms, Israel Symphony, Schelomo, and most of his
First String Quartet), were an immediate success in New York and
elsewhere. He loved the excitement in the air, the characteristic openness
of the Americans he met, and the new financial security he was now
enjoying. On returning home the following year he had to decide whether
or not to emigrate. He and his wife, Marguerite, would be only too happy
to leave the wider family tensions and other unpleasantnesses of life in
Geneva. But they would also have to sell all their belongings; they would
have to leave the beautiful countryside; they would have to get used to
American cities, which evoked horror in Bloch.

The decision was made; and the family (Ernest, Marguerite, and their
three young children: Ivan, Suzanne and Lucienne) made their way to
what, at the time, must have seemed like the 'Promised Land' : an ethnic
'melting pot' where refugees from persecution anywhere in the world
could fmd sanctuary. It was now that Bloch could freely express his views
about musical inspiration in general, and his music in particular:

A man does not have to label a composition 'American' or "German'
or "Italian", but he has to be American, German, Italian, or even
Jewish, at the bottom of his heart if he expects to produce any real
music. I, for instance, am a Jew, and I aspire to write Jewish music,
not for the sake of self-advertisement but because I am sure that this
is the only way in which I can produce music of vitality and
significance...! believe that those pages of my own in which I am at my
best are those in which I am most unmistakably racial. But the racial
quality is not only in folk themes: it is in myself? . Racial feeling is
certainly a quality of all great music, which must be the essential
expression of the people as well as the individual. Does anyone think
he is only himself? Far from it: he is thousands of his ancestors. If he
writes as he feels...his expression will be basically that of his
forefathers.. If folk themes are to be used, this should only be the case
when they are as a mother tongue to the composer, and I do not see
how this can be the case in this country with the songs of Indians,
Negroes, etc., although I can believe that a day will come when these
melodies will have become a part of the music of the country.3

Bloch also said, in the same article, that Mahler (whom he otherwise
greatly admired) didn't 'link himself to the genius of his race;' and because
of this, the musical material of his symphonies, for all their spirituality, was
'too conventional, too certain to crumble with the passage of time.' These
words show a degree of somewhat over-confident outspokenness -
something rather new in Bloch' s mode of expression... The earlier part of
this quotation has been used by numerous commentators to 'prove' (as it
were) that Bloch is a 'Jewish Composer.' But only two years later, he wrote
as follows about his recently completed Viola Suite:

(It] does not belong to my so-called 'Jewish Works.' It is rather a
vision of the Far East that inspired me: Java, Sumatra, Borneo ■ these
wonderful countries I so often dreamed of, though I was never
fortunate enough to visit them in any other way than through my
imagination.'

Indeed, the last movement of this work sounds very 'far-eastern' in its
use of pentatonicism. The multi-ethnic stimuli that New York had to offer
could only give substance to fantasies inspired by the literature Bloch had
read in his youth - but what about the expression of his forefathers?. ..This
is only one of so many apparent contradictions in Bloch' s writings. And
it serves to remind us that he said different things at different times in his
: quite unpredictably. These discrepancies indicate a

complex and evolving personality; they cannot be ignored just to suit the
many andvarious wishful ideologiesofacademics andcritics in their quest
for consistent patterns of behavior.

Although Bloch became an American citizen in 1924, he found
himself increasingly alienated from some of the more materialistic
attitudes and values he encountered in the 1920's while Director of the
Cleveland Institute of Music and subsequently the San Francisco
Conservatoire. Trips to Europe during this period reinforced his longing
for the land of his birth; and in 1930 he left the U.S.A. for an eight-year
sojourn in France and Switzerland: 'I am exhausted from fifteen years in
America and I need first of all to recover my strength? The first three years
were devoted to the composition of A vodath Hakodesh, the 'Sacred
Service' that forms the very epicenter of his creative life in more ways than
one. But thereafter, he visited his adopted land, and in early 1939, when
American citizenship requirements and the grip of Nazism in Europe made
any further delay impossible, he resettled in the U.S.A., eventually
'plunging my roots in Oregon.6 However, Europe continued to attract him,
and he journeyed back and forth as long as his chronically indifferent
health allowed.

What is the significance of all this restlessness? I feel that there was
a constant struggle between the spiritual and emotional /psychological
dimensions of Bloch' s being.

The spirituality he absorbed from his mother was manifested in his
concepts of the university of life, of nature, of music. The works which
expressed this timeless quality were those which were written without
motive and can be found in every period of his life (for example, the
Pomes d'Automne, some of the ten piano pieces for children entitled
Enfuntines, or the slow movement of the Violin Concerto). Here we sense
the absence of conflict.

His delight that A vodath Hakodesh was being performed in churches
and cathedrals as well as synagogues and temples was a natural expression
of his deeply felt ecumenism. But the evangelical and almost messianic
zeal in his nature transformed the 'brotherhood of mankind' into an
emotional and sometimes confused expression of 'nationalism in music'
This is especially apparent in what he wrote about his three 'patriotic'
works: Helvetia ■ a Symphonic Fresco (composed on-and-off between
1900 and 1929), Israel Symphony (composed between 1912 and 1916),
and America ■ an Epic Rhapsody (composed between 1916 and 1926).

All three works are for large orchestra, and each has a choral or vocal
section just before itsconclusion that projects a distinct ethnic identity. Let
us consider, first of all, the anthem in his Symphonic Fresco Helvetia
(Ex. 1)7 about which he said:

When I am dead may be...children will sing the Swiss anthem.Jn
which I hear distinctly the multitude, combined with the orchestra,
symbolizing the union of man and his country, his Fatherland, in the
most profound and complete sense...the motif of the hymn
emerges...above all, like the nationalflag, symbol of Peace.'

This is based on an old folksong in the dialect of Geneva: Ce que le
no (The One who is Above'). The original score and numerous sketches
were donated by Bloch to the Biblioteque Nationale in Bcme, despite his
complaint that 'nobody cares about it in Switzerland. '9

Next, part of the vocal finale of Israel that clearly suggests some of the
traditional Lithuanian cantillation motifs for the Song of Songs (Ex.2).
Suzanne Bloch has written that

Bloch's original plan had been to add another movement to what had
already been writtenJn this last section he wanted to envision the
return of thejews to Israel and express rejoicing over the redemption
of the )ews...Giving up this hope he explained.- 'After the war was over
the real horrors and the moral degradation of the world were exposed
to humanity.' Bloch was so disillusioned that the second part...has
never been written.10

And finally, the anthem Bloch composed for his Epic Rhapsody
America (Ex.3), about which he spoke as follows:

/ had the idea of this symphony America before landing in August
1916. Europe was at war. I came to America; it was like another
planet. It took me ten years before I wrote this symphony. I had to
absorb A merica, and then the music came. I wanted then to use some
of those beautiful folksongs of America: Indian songs, Southern
songs, 'Old Folks at Home, 'Hail Columbia,' the songs of the War,
all those songs. I am not ashamed of them; they are as beautiful as
those of any country; and they moved me, and they still move me;
because they are the songs that, to my imagination, bring back the
pioneers and those who made this great country, those of the past. f
course to use all thosefolksongs, and give them unity, that it be not a

hotch-potch, there ought to be a central idea. Well, the central idea,
I thought at that time, to write a song: to unite all these ideas in one
melody. Well, fi n a I ly / luccei I ' wc k and <.

vVni ,ii i in i II ft l onl nd of nphom

The whole symphony is built upon litis hymn; and my idea was thai I he
audience, the America people, You, all of you, would sing this song.
Now you see, this symphony is your symphony. I hope I wrote a good
work, that you may come at the end and sing it, with US, with the
orchestra, with me; much more than music: a kind of giving of hearts
to our great country in faith, not only in what is now, but in what has
to come, and can come; an example to the whole of humanity, of no
discrimination, of unity of different peoples, different races, different
tongues, all that, all coming together."

It is evident that 'Helvetia' and 'America' required a style quite
different from that of 'Israel' or 'Schelomo.' In 'Helvetia' I have
deliberately chosen my means and have confined myself to the style
that matched the subject I was interpreting. A style clearly diatonic
and tonal, strong and traditional, a style which, after all, is not so easy
as many today believe....But those who have eyes and ears ■ and a
heart ■ will find me as well in this work, and in 'America', as in
'Schelomo' or my 'Quintet.' It is only that, in each of these works, I
have set free a different part of my personality perhaps appears less
'picturesque 1 or 'original' or, as they say, 'modern,' to those who
judge by the surface.12

But if the preceding instances have exhibited Bloch's perception of
different national traits, how easy is it to tell one work from another?
Taking from each work one sample of a meditative passage (Ex. 4a, b, c)
and one sample of a climactic passage (Ex. 5a, b, c), and without knowing
each composition thoroughly, can we immediately identify each extract as
typically American, Swiss, or Jewish?

Much has been made of the eclecticism of Bloch's music: the Swiss
characteristics, not only of Helvetia, but also of parts of the 'Concerto
Grosso for Strings and Piano' (both written in America), and much of his
chamber music; the American flavor, not only of America, but also of the
Violin Concerto (written in Europe), Poem's of the Sea, etc.; the Far-
Eastern traits in the Viola Suite, Evocations, and Four Episodes; the
Neoclassicism of the later String Quartets, Suite Modale, Suite

Symphonique, and the unaccompanied violin, viola and cello Suites; the
introduction of Gregorian Chant in Poeme Mystique; the partial use of
serialism in Sinfonia Breve and elsewhere; not to mention the Jewish
works - comprising about one quarter of his total creativity - exemplified
here by the Israel Symphony.

However, I feel that the effects of living in the pluralist society that
America was, and is, not only expanded B loch's horizons but also had the
effect of blending seemingly disparate elements in his musical personality
into a homogeneous idiom. Despite differences between early, middle and
late styles, and the use of diverse ethnic materials, most of Bloch's works
can be identified as having been composed by Bloch.

America's effect on Bloch's Jewish consciousness was quite different
from that of his early days in Europe. In the Old World, his music had, at
first, been influenced by his and by contemporary masters -

Debussy, Franck, Strauss, Wagner; and his Jewish Cycle was a gesture of
individuality and a reaction against his environment. There is,
incidentally, no truth in the suggestion that he had flirted with Christianity,
which he, in fact, regarded as a failure after 18 centuries of hypocrisy.13 It
is true, however, that he admired the teachings of Jesus, as distinct from
those of the church; he purchased a lifesize crucifix, which to him
represented a suffering Jew; and his commitment to his cultural heritage
seemed in no way diminished by his marriage to a woman of German
Protestant lineage (who, incidentally, contemplated conversion during
Bloch's first visit to U.S.A. in 1916, but who later abandoned her course
of instruction for personal reasons).

In the New World, his Jewishness was at the same time weakened and
strengthened. He wasdeeply touched by the generosity of those who, in the
early days, organized and participated in concerts devoted largely to his
Jewish works (e.g. the 'New York Society of the Friends of Music'). He
was also overwhelmed by a visit he made, for example, to the Lower East
Side of New York in 1918, where he came into contact with the hassidic
community.

Butthedoctrines and practicesof organized religion in any form could
not satisfy him: and he became disconcerted when he saw that Jews in
positions of influence did little or nothing to alleviate his sense of musical
'obliteration' (a word he used frequently). Two examples will suffice:
there were no performances of the Israel Symphony in the U.S.A. between
1917 and 1932; and much later, in the context of the Six-Day Ernest Bloch

Music Festival in Chicago in 1950, Bloch complained that 'Five Jewish
Conductors had refused to conduct my works...! before Kubelik accepted
- he's not Jewish.'H At the same time, despite his early manifestos on the
subject, he gradually came to resent being labeled and pigeon-holed a
'Jewish composer,' so it must have been particularly painful for himto read
these stabbing words of Daniel Gregory Mason:

Our whole contemporary aesthetic attitude toward instrumental
music, especially in New York, is dominated by Jewish tastes and
standards, with their oriental extravagance, their sensuous brilliance
and intellectual facility and superficiality, their general tendency to
exaggeration and disproportion. Bloch, long the chief minister of that
intoxication to ourpublic, has capped his dealings with us by the grim
jest of presenting to us a long, brilliant, megalomaniac, and
thoroughly 'Jewish' symphony ■ entitled 'America.'15

Unhappy in Switzerland, unhappy in the U.S.A., what were his
feelings about the Holy Land? Unlike his close friend and librettist
Edmond Fleg, Bloch had never proclaimed himself a Zionist. Whether or
not it would have been reasonable to expect Bloch to take the initiative in
opening negotiations with the newly formed State of Israel, to give his
services free, to donate his manuscripts to the National Library 'in
Jerusalem, is open to debate. The fact is he didn't, and he felt slighted at
not being brought over as a guest of the Israel Philharmonic. (It was not the
orchestra's policy to invite composers, and Bloch was not rated among the
world's greatest conductors). Perhaps he thought, however, that he was no
less worthy than Aaron Copland, who was invited by the Ministry of
Education and Culture to give a course for composers. 16

So Bloch remained domiciled in the U.S.A. where he died in 1959.
Altogether about half his working life had been spent there: the other half
in Europe. His situation can be summed up in the words he wrote to Alfred
Pochon from Agate Beach, Oregon on November28, 1941: T feel- and I
am aware of being ■ in exile, for 30 years in his vast country where, inspite
of everything, I feel a stranger - .' Physically and psychologically a
'Wandering Jew' all his life, he never found his 'promised land.'
Numerous prizes and awards were bestowed on him over the years; his
reputation as an outstanding pedagogue was second to none, and his
teaching attracted some of the most prominent young American
composers of the time (Roger Sessions, Bernard Rogers, Randall
Thompson, and many others): yet it somehow wasn't enough to make him
feel wanted. Though well able to show gratitude when appropriate, a

seemingly incxorablecycle of "cause and effect: misfortune and self-pity"
dogged him all his life.

But, to conclude on a lighter note, Bloch developed an engaging wit,
perhaps as an antidote to his melancholy and protection against the
inclement world he saw around him. He was heard to complain on one
occasion: 'I spend so much time on the lecture stage that I fear I shall have
to put on my business card: Ernest Bloch - Schmusik!17

FOOTNOTES

1 Quoted by Alma Mahler in Max Brod, Die Musik Israels, Sefer Press
Ltd., Tel Aviv, 195 1, pp. 35-6

I April 22, 1928

3 Quoted in Olin Downes, 'Ernest Bloch, the Swiss Composer, on the
Influence of Race in Composition', The Musical Observer, Vol. 15 no.3,
1917, p. 11

4 Quoted in sleeve notes, Orion ORS 6904, 1969

5 Letter to Alfred Pochon, Roveredo Capriasca, Ticino, Switzerland,
August 30, 1931

i Letter to Pochon, Agate Beach, Oregon, November 28, 1941

7 For full impact, the musical examples need to be heard rather than looked
at. However, to facilitate easy visual access to the extracts under
discussion, a complete list of relevant music-score references has been
provided after the main text.

8 Quoted in Mary Tibaldi-Chiesa, Ernest Bloch, G.B. Paravia Co., Turin,
1933, pp. 81-2

9 Letter to Pochon, Roveredo, August 25, 1931

10 Suzanne Bloch and Irene Heskes, Ernest Bloch: Creative Spirit, Jewish
Music Council, New York, 1976, p. 48

II Transcribed from the end of Side B of the Vanguard VSL 1 1020 (stereo)
recording of America by Leopold Stokowski, conducting the Symphony
of the Air and the American Concert Choir

12 Quoted in program notes to Boston Symphony Orchestra Fifty-Eighth
Season 1938-1939, Fifth Programme, (March 20-21: first performance of
Helvetia in Boston), pp. 30-3 1

13 Letter to Sophie Bloch, 1918 (further details not available at this time)

14 Letter to Pochon, Agate Beach, February 19, 1951

15 Daniel Gregory Mason, Tune in, America, Alfred A. Knopf, New York,
1931, pp. 161-2

16 Information by courtesy of Ze'ev Steinberg (a co-founder of the IPO),
via Salome Berger, letter to me from Jerusalem, February 18, 1983

17 Herbert A. Klein, 'Ernest Bloch: A Study in Personality', 'The American
Hebrew, February 17, 1928

Musical Examples

Ex. 1: Helvetia: one bar before fig. 63 (p. 81) ■ fig. 66 (p. 86)

Ex. 2: Israel: figs. 59-61 (pp. 83-86)

Ex. 3: America: four bars after fig. 102 (p. 175) ■ fig. 105 (p. 179)

Ex. 4a: America: beginning of slow movement (p. 72)

Ex. 4b: Israel: figs. 5-8 (pp. 4243)

Ex. 4c: Helvetiu: one bar before fig. 1 (p. 2) - fig. 2 (p. 4)

Ex. 5a: Israel: figs. 5-8 (pp. 21-23)

Ex. 5b: Helvetiu: one bar before fig. 40 (p. 53) ■ three bars before fig. 51

(p. 64)

Ex. 5c: America: two bars before fig. 27 (p.53) - fig. 29 (p. 58)

Figures, page and bar numbers, listed above, refer to the following
publications:

Helvetiu: The Lund of Mountains and its People: A Symphonic Fresco for
Orchestra [To All Lovers of Mountains and Freedom], C.C. Birchard and
Co., Boston, publ. 1931,88 pp.

Israel: Symphony for Orchestra and Five Solo Voices, G. Schirmer, New
York, publ. 1924, 96 pp.

America: An Epic Rhapsody in Three Parts for Orchestra [This Symphony
has been written in love for this country. In reverence to its Past ■ In faith
in its Future...] C.C. Birchard and Co., Boston, publ. 1928, 181 pp.

MAKING MIDRASH OUT OF MUSIC:

A STUDY OF KATCHKO'S Kl K'SHIMKHA

SHOSHANA Gelfand

Musicians have always known the intcrpretivepowcr of music. Opera
has long been a form of bringing secular texts to life; and musicologists
have made the study of opera into an art form in itself. Unfortunately, this
method of "midrash" had been largely ignored by Jewish musicians and
scholars of liturgy. Jewish music lacks a parallel to opera analysis. While
most cantors can perform the music, few are interested in interpreting or
analyzing it. This is surprising since interpretation of texts is such a large
part of Jewish tradition.

Because of the huge quantity of rabbinic midrashim which exist, one
can logically ask, "Why doesn't the same massive amount of commentary
exist for Jewish liturgy?" After all, these too are texts which are central to
Jewish life. Furthermore, it is just as important to render the words of the
liturgy meaningful since this is one's way of communicating with God.

The dearth of commentary on prayer is the impetus for the writing of
thispaper. Itscemsodd that thercareso few midrashim on the liturgy (with
the exception of the psalms). Although there arc several siddurim which
includeperushim, these seem very cerebral in nature, not at all fitting with
the experiential nature of prayer.

The genre of the cantorial recitative can be interpreted as a " midrash"
on the liturgy. Depending on the composer, the recitative will mirror and
comment upon the text to a greater or lesser degree. Whereas the rabbis
who wrote aggadah utilized certain standard hermeneutical tools, so too
do hazzanic composers have a clear methodology for expanding upon the
text. Their techniques include: making use of chord structure, intervals
between notes, phrasing, repeating motifs, and text painting (conjuring
pictures with the music).

Several examples of these midrashic techniques are demonstrated in

SHOSHANA GELFAND is a rabbinical student at the Jewish Theological
Seminary. This article v, as made possible in part through the support of the Wexner
Foundation.

the following recitative. The text is Ki K'shimkha by the composer Adolph
Katchko. It appears in the Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur liturgy as part
of the musaf service.

The text and translation are found below, reproduced from the
Rabbinical Assembly Mahzor, pp. 242-243.

psnn x 1 ? "3 .nix - ! 1 ? niii oyp 1 ? nyp T ^n^nri p ^ora "?

^-.-Dnrt inio nr "ryi .rrm isiio iaitfa nx ^ nan nioa

any inn n-jsi- sin nnx -s npx .ftapn to aitf; ax

.dt. T^n an -3

Dins ^vro .i^n 1 ? x-:r is??n ."isy 1 ? ^°^ " i ?V'5 ;| " 7i|D, a l x

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Your glory is Your nature: slow to anger, ready to forgive. You desire
not the sinner's death, but that he turn from his path and live. Until the day
of his death You wait for him. Whenever he returns, You welcome him at
once. Truly You are Creator, and know the weakness of Your creatures,
who are but flesh and blood.

Man's origin is dust and his end is dust. He spends his life earning
bread. He is like a clay vessel, easily broken, like withering grass, a fading
flower, a passing shadow, a fugitive cloud, a fleeting breeze, scattering
dust, a vanishing dream.

We first note that the music for this piece is written initially in the key
of E and later in the key of A in the hazzanic mode of ahavah rabbuh. Large
portions of Jewish liturgy are sung in the uhuvuh rubbuh mode. For
example, much of the Amidah on Shabbat mornings, El Malei Ruhumim
at funerals, or even the popular Hava Nagila performed at weddings and
other festive occasions.

So, too, is the music for Ki K'shimkhu written in this ahavah rubbuh
mode. It is strange, that the key of the piece appears to be E until almost
halfway through, when it unexpectedly changes to A. This confusion of
keys cannot be a mistake. The music intentionally starts in an ambiguous

key. Thequestion is, why? What does this indicate about the nature of this
prayer?

It may be a comment on the prayer's position in the mahzor. Ki
K'shimkha comes directly following B'Rosh Hashanah in the high holiday
liturgy. The latter prayer indicates that we, as human beings, do not know
who will live in the coming year and who will die. We have little control
over which way God will decide our fate. All we can do is repent for our
sins and pray for forgiveness. No wonder we find it appropriate to recite
Ki K'shimkha at this point in the service since this prayer praises God's
attributesandcompares them to ours, And no wonder wedo not know what
key we are in; that is as unsure as our fate at this point.

So it is possible to interpret the starting key of this prayer by its place
in the liturgy, The words of the text indicate where the music should go

next.

Ki K'shimkha kcin t'liilatcklia kuslicli likhos v'noah lirtzot.

The first phrase is a preliminary clause for what is to follow. The
second phase is actually the independent clause. We discover, it is
"because glory is His nature" that "He is slow to anger and ready to
forgive." Several points can be made about this second clause:

On the word kusheh, difficult," there is a tri-tone an interval of three
whole steps. It just so happens that this is the most difficult interval to hear
or sing. For this reason, it is entirely appropriate for it to appear in
conjunction with the word kasheh.

In contrast, a light trill and easy scale downward appears for the word
v'noah. This musical juxtaposition truly describes the relationship
between the two halves of the phrase, "slow to anger" and "ready to
forgive."

The last notes of the phrase are identical to the opening notes of the

piece (i.e. the -tzot of lirtzot is sung the same as the -kha of Ki K'shimkha).
This suggests that this whole beginning part is indeed a unified sentence
and not two separate phrases. The two parts of this one larger phrase are
related in a circular way, beginning and ending with the same musical
motif.

There now follow two more phrases built on the conjunction Ki: Ki im
b'shuvo midarko v'hayah and Ki lo tahpotz b'mot hamet.

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The music builds from one phrase to the next, but the idea is similar,
so let us examine the second more complicated one. The text has been
altered here to repeat the last word of this clause v' hay ah. This repetition
could be interpreted as an empassioned plea to do t'shuvah and choose life
on this Rosh Hashanah day. Alternatively, it could be interpreted in a
questioning fashion wondering if indeed we will live throughout the year.

The ambiguity is further enhanced by the music which appears here.
The fiist time v'hayah appears it ends on the note E.

which is the key we are in at this point. When the same word is repeated
however, the music rests on the G#.

The G# appeared in the first case, yet the music passed right through
it, choosing instead to stop on the root note of the key (E). Why does the
music for the repetition of the exact same word end on a different note?
Music theory suggests that the the G# is not likely to be the final note of

the piece (whereas the E could have been). The G# leaves the listener
hanging, unsure what will happen next. Because of this feeling of hanging,
we sense that the question of life or death is still undecided for the
following year - there is more to come and more for us to say. Furthermore,
the G# is the most ambiguous note in the entire E chord, for it can change
the entire nature of the chord from major to minor were it to slip down just
one half step. The major sound thus represents potential life while the
minor sound (down one half step) represents potential death.

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V'adyom moto t'hakeh lo:

"And until the day he (man) dies He will wait for him." These words
are stretched out over many notes, both on a scale up and another back
down. On the way up, each note of the scale is repeated, further
lengthening the amount of time it takes to reach the top note. This top note
is preceeded by yet another note, a grace note, which lasts but a split
second. All of these notes take time to sing and represent the amount of
time that God will wait for us to repent; in Hisinfinite patience. He will
wait until the very last second of the day of our death.

Im yashuv miyad t'kablo:

God, however, does not want us to wait that long; for one never knows
when death will come. For this reason miyad is repeated twice so that the
musical phrasing parses the sentence into two separate but complementary
statements. First there is im yashuvmiyad. Here three notes repeat over and
over giving a circular "returning" feeling to the words. This repetition
makes sense as a model for man'srepentence.

After this however, we get miyad t'kabfo. This time miyad refers to

God's action as opposed to man's. The entire phrase becomes an if/then
statement suggesting that God's speed in receiving us will parallel our
eagerness to repent: "If he will repent immediately," then "immediately
He will receive him."

There is another interesting aspect to this phrase. Withlm yashuv
miyad there is a circular motion to the notes (suggesting a return); whereas
with miyad t'kablo it is a linear line, a scale straight down to the E which
has been our root (foundation) note throughout the first section of the
piece. The linear line here indicates direction and purpose in God's plan.
He knows where our "returning" will lead- straight back to the foundation
of life, our source, Him.

The above d'rush may not have been the intention of the composer
himself. However, it is important for individuals to develop their own
explanations and ideas about the words and music of prayer. These ideas
may contradict each other as are many ways to interpret a poetic
composition. This is not only okay but desirable. Just as the rabbis would
create many midrushim on a single verse of the Bible, so should we express
our ideas and feelings by creating many interpretations of a single prayer.

This ends the first half of the piece. Now we switch clearly to the key
of A. Indeed the first word of the second sectionemet, is appropriately
centered on the three notes of the A minor chord. No other notes are
present- just pure A minor, like pure truth.

Ki atah hu yotzrum, v'utuh yodeiu yitzrum:

The next two lines are in slihu mode, usually reserved for penitential
prayers (like Avinu Malkenu found earlier in the service). Here this
petitionary mode indeed fits the words since it puts us in the reverential
mindset of standing before God who knows everything about us; v 'utuh
yodeiu yi tzrum. "For You are our Creator and You know that we have
sinned. Therefore, v/euseslihuh mode here to suggest the fact that we must
ask forgiveness (even though the text does not say so explicitly).

Ki liciin basar vudum:

In the last part of this sentence, we encounter the first G of the piece.
This regular G (as opposed to the G#) followed by a B b lend an unexpected
dark quality to the phrase:

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This is a typical Eastern European way of ending a musical phrase.
One rarely finds it in Western music: rather it is a very Jewish way to
resolve a chord. Because of the aforementioned dark quality, we realize
just how fragile we (made of flesh and blood) are compared to our Creator.
He is our Creator (with a G#); we are the creatures of flesh and blood (the
regular G located a half step lower than the G#).

Adam y'sodo meyafar;

"Man's foundation is from dust" begins with the exact same motif as
Emet. One could see this as a kind of "musical gezerah shavah." The same
motif appears in two places; therefore, we can apply what we know about
one phrase to the other. Thus, while we know from the first phrase that it
is emet that God created us, we can imply from the repetition of the same
motif on the word adam that it is also true (emet) that man's foundation is
from the dust.

The same motif repeats yet again for the next line v'sofo leafar "and
his end is to the dust." The emet motif links this phrase with the one before
it. In fact, this motif at the beginning of both lines, combined with the
identical word at the end of both lines, causes the listener to assume that
there will be a simple repetition, i.e. the music from will be exactly the
same for v'sofo leafar as adam y'sodo me/afar. It does start out that way,
but then v'sofo leafar continues on in its own direction. We can compare
the two phrases to see the difference.

It is almost as if man does not mind admitting that he comes from the

dust; but the idea that he will have to return there is too terrifying to speak
about. The hazzan therefore puts off saying the word "dust" until he or she
is almost out of breath. Only at this final moment when no breath is left in
the body can one truly know that we do indeed return to the dust. And we
are forced to contemplate this end most forcefully during the High
Holidays.

B'nafsho yavi lakhmo:

"By his breath (or soul) he brings his bread." On the first word of this
phrase, we find the A minor chord in its root position. This is the same
chord (i.e. the same notes as with the wordsemet, adam, and v'sofo, but

here for the first time it appears with the A on the bottom.

h-ntf-sk.

The A-C-E example shows the basic position of a chord, the way in
which it is built. The chord remains an A minor no matter which order the
notes are in, but written the first way (with its fundamental note, the A, on
the bottom), it mirrors the way a man is built (with his fundamental root,
his soul, as his essence).

From these words we learn that it is through his soul that man earns
his bread, his sustenance in life. Then comes the word mashul, "a parable
or example," telling us that some sort of comparison is to follow. Three
similes do indeed follow in a descending musical pattern, indicating that
each one expresses more weakness than the previous one. Man's struggle
for life is compared to 1) a pot breaking k'heres hanishbar, 2) grass
withering, k' hatzir yaveish, and 3) a flower wilting, uch' tzitz nov&f. The
last two notes of the word noveif actually do "wilt" in a musical sense. The
second-to-last note has an unexpected flat written on it, lowering the tone
so that it sounds "droopy."

Two comparisons follow in a section which sounds more like an aria
than the rest of the piece. The aria section has a song-like quality to it with
definite rhythmic markings. Whereas in all the other sections of the piece,
the hazzan is free to interpret the rhythm in a free manner, the next four
words are marked in an explicit rhythm with directions to sing it sweetly

(dolce). It is almost farcical to "sweetly" compare man's earning of his
bread to a shadow (i.e. darkness) passing by him k'tzeil over.

Because of the section's rhythmic accuracy, however., the music
keeps moving so that the shadow merely passes by, touching man but not
harming him. The notes on the word ov&r look like this:

The curve connecting the second and third notes tells the musician to
extend the former just a hair longer than it should be held. The shadow
(perhaps representing darkness or death) is playing an unpredictable game
of hide and seek. By staying on one note longer than expected (especially
in this very rhythmic section of the piece), we realize how arbitrary and
deceitful this shadow can be. This feeling is further enhanced by the fact
that the first time the B is sung it is a B natural (a regular B), but the second
time there is a flat written next to it. Thus, we feel like it has barely brushed
by us. For the moment we are safe, but can soon return again, sneaking up
from behind and withering us with that same B flat that withered the flower
only seconds earlier (see above).

The second of the two similes in the aria section v'kheanan kalah also
uses music to paint a picture of what the words mean. For example, the
music line goes up higher just as a cloud floats up high in the sky. Then,
however, the music flutters very fast in a descending pattern, suggesting
that the cloud had somehow vanished away:

Three more similes end the piece:

Ukh'ruah noshavet:

"And like the wind blowing" - The marking here is agitato and it
sounds like the wind blowing for it is sung quickly and enunciated well.
Certain consonants (the h, sh, and t of ruah noshavet) emphasize the sound
of rushing wind.

Ukh'avak poreiach:

"And like the dust that floats" ■ ukh'avak uses the very same notes as
ukh'ruah. One suspects that the musical phrase for ukh'ruah may be

repeated on ukh'avak, yet there is a surprise in store. The music switches
into Ukranian-Dorian mode, a very "Jewish-sounding" mode which
possesses a somewhat eerie scale. As the notes (i.e. dust) "float" down this
scale - F#, E b , D, C, B, A, one would expect the phrase to end here, resting
on A (since we are in the key of A). Yet after a few seconds on the note A,
the scale continues to drop one more note to G where it flutters once back
to A and then finally rests for good on the G. Just as all specks of dust would
not float or settle together in unison, so too the music keeps floating up and
down the scale.

V khahalom yauf:

"And like a dream, flies away" - For the first word of this last phrase,
the music switches from the Ukranian-Dorian of the previous section to an
A major sound. It climbs up the C major scale in a precise strong manner
with no sense of any impending doom. Yet the last word of the piece yauf
reverses this confident attitude and reduced it to one of fear and
uncertainty.

The major key is maintained until the word yauf. Then it jumps from
a G to a C#, the same tri-tone interval that appeared at the very beginning
of the prayer with the word kasheh. This jump to the C# throws the mode
out of A major and into A ahavah rabbah, again similar to the beginning
of piece which was written in ahavah rabbah mode (although in the key
of E). Thus, we return to the classic Jewish nusah by the end of the piece.
The C# goes to Bb which finally goes to A, the name of the key we are in
and the ending note of the piece; but before the piece actually ends, those
notes C# Bb A are repeated again as the 'dream flies away."

The juxtaposition of the major "dream" and the ahavah rabbah

"flying away" shows the dialectic of the high holiday prayers. On the one
hand, we stand before God in fear and awe, admitting publicly that we have

sinned and asking for His mercy and forgiveness, on the other hand, we
have the audacity to believe that we will actually be forgiven, that God will
have mercy on these little lumps of clay which He has created. This
paradox seems bizarre, yet it is our Jewish condition. We are like the pot
that breaks, and the grass that withers; yet because of His name, Ki
K'shimkha, we may do t'shuvah and be forgiven.

The complete setting of Ki K'shimkha will be found in the Music Section
of this edition of the Journal. The excerpts and setting areprinted with the
kind permission of Cantor Theodore Katchko and Sacred Music Press.

GERSHON EPHROS, 18904978 :

A REMEMBRANCE AT HIS CENTENARY.

Max WOHLBERG

For a full appreciation of the accomplishments of Gershon Ephros, we
must have a clear view of the times and milieu in which he functioned. As
they were to Jewish demography, the years 1880-1920 were of great
consequence to the history of synagogue music and the evolution of the
cantorate in the United States.

Following the substantial influx of German Jews between 1840 and
1880, the subsequent immigration of Jews from Eastern Europe and the
Balkans, commencing in 1880, was in unprecedented numbers.

At an almost frenzied pace, landsmannshaften were organized,
societies were established synagogues were built, and cantors were
imported_ A number of well-known congregations, served by such
prominent cantors as Alois Kaiser in Baltimore, Edward Stark in San
Francisco, Max Graumann and Solomon Baum in New York, thrived.
Some East European cantors such as Leib Shlossberg and Israel Fine, for
example, had to officiate on the High Holidays (1906) in concert halls, the
former in Beethoven Hall, and the latter in People's Theater.

Recalling the synagogues built in the era, it is both amusing and
revealing to note the attempt to retain the ties to the old country and the
shtetl whence came its organizers. We thus had synagogues named:
Rumanien, Warsaw, Slonim, Bialystok, Suwalk, Dukler, Anshei Ungaren,
etc. This custom of utilizing geographic names was frequently indulged by
cantors of old. Wellknown were: the Vilner Balebeisel, Zalel Odesser,Nisi
Belzer, Chayim Lomzher, Velvel Shestapol, Yankel Soroker, Zeidl
Rovner, Yoshe Slonimer, Solomon Sulzer, etc.

Among the cantors who visited and concertized here in the early part
of the 20th century were such men of prominence as Minkowsky, B. Shorr
and Sirota. Permanent residents included Cooper, Meisels, Greenspan,
Kamiol, Rutman. These were shortly followed by Rosenblatt, Kwartin,
Roitman, Steinberg, Shlisky, Hershman and later by Vigoda, Pinchik,

MAX WOHLBERG is Nathan Cummings Professor of Liturgy and Hazzanut at
the Jewish Theological Seminary.

Glantz, Kapov-Kagan and the Kusevitzkys.

This is the period when Gershon Ephros arrived here. Even a
materially condensed biography, such as this article, should state the
following: Gershon was born on Jan. 15, 1890 in Serotzk, a suburb of
Warsaw. His mother, a much favored seamstress, had a number of
assistants who, working into the late hours, accompanied their work
singing popular folksongs. Thus, young Gershon absorbed the folksongs
or our people.

Although his father, a competent Hebrew teacher and excellent baal
koreh passed away when Gershon was only 10 years old, he obviously
managed to transmit to his precious son a love of Hebrew and familiarity
with the oldest element of our music: cantillation.

As their home faced a huge marketplace, little Gershon could not
escape the attrac tive sounds of shepherds' flutes as they guided their flocks
to the areas assigned for them. Thus, Gershon was exposed to another style
of music.

His widowed mother married a cousin who had also lost his mate at
about the same time. He happened to be a fairly well-known Hazzan,
Moshe Fromberg. The latter, recognizing Gershon' s musical potential,
taught him the rudiments of music theory and sightsinging. He also made
him a member of the choir and introduced him to the popular synagogue
repertoire.

Gershon rapidly advanced to becoming a soloist and fairly soon a
choir-leader. With this choir he traveled, concertizing in neighboring
communities. Simultaneously, Gershon acquired rudimentary Hebraic
knowledge in the local cheder, and later more advanced studies in the
Yeshivah of Brest-Litovsk. He also succeeded in getting to know modem
Hebrew literature and in the process became a fervent Zionist.

Notwithstanding the success he met in all his endeavors, Gershon
grew restive. A visit to Bialystok enabled him to gain a wider view of
synagogue music. He also became tenor soloist in one of its larger
synagogues. A year or so later, at age 17, he became choir leader in the city
of S'geresh.

Two years later, in 1909, spurred by his desire to help in rebuilding the
ancient Jewish homeland, he traveled to Palestine with the intent of

becoming a halutz. Shortly after his arrival there he met with the famous
Hebrew author AZ. Rabinowitz, who advised him to continue with his
studies in music. Provided with a letter of introduction, Ephros traveled to
Jerusalem and met with A.Z. Idelsohn, Hazzan of the Great Synagogue.
The latter appointed him as his assistant and his choir leader. Ephros also
assumed a teaching position atM akhon L'Shirat Y Israel, the Institute for
Jewish Music. More importantly, however, Ephros became involved with
Idelsohn in the area of research, thus becoming acquainted with the music
of diverse oriental communities. At the same time he also continued his
own studies in advanced harmony and counterpoint. His musical
perceptions widened considerably.

One Shabbat, during his vacation, Ephros was in a Jaffa synagogue
where he was prevailed upon to lead the service. A well-to-do Russian
chasid, Chayim Hurwitz, was enthralled with "the voice of an angel" and
promptly invited Ephros to his home to meet his daughter, Rose. The two
young people were favorably impressed with each other and would later
be married. During a lengthy discussion that followed shortly thereafter,
Hurwitz convincingly maintained that, just as his own business plans
could only be successfully achieved in the United States, so too Ephros'
potential could only be fully realized in the New World. Thus it was that
on July 2nd, 19 11, Hurwitz and Ephros arrived at Ellis Island. Rose and her
mother soon followed. On Friday, May 3 1st, 19 12, the wedding took place.
Their marriage was a long and happy one.

At about that time, the prominent educator, Dr. Samson Benderley,
succeeded in bringing some order in the chaotic situation prevailing in
Jewish Education. He organized the Bureau of Jewish Education and

engaged Ephros to teach children the songs of the halutzim as well as how
to conduct Shabbat services.

In the interim, Ephros found social fulfillment in the company of
fellow Hebraists such as Petsky, Sacklet, Friedland, Efros and others. He
also joined such cultural groups as Achievet and Yuval, leading the music
sessions at their gatherings.

Ultimately he turned to the cantorate. In 1918 he served as cantor in
Norfolk, Virginia, but promptly returned to New York, and in 1919
accepted the cantorial position at Temple Beth Elohim in the Bronx.

Wishing to establish a traditionally valid, sensibly arranged repertoire
geared for contemporary worshippers, he encountered difficulties in two
areas. 1) Most of the selections current in European congregations and

freely exchanged by itinerant cantors were not easily available here. 2)
Their harmonic arrangements now appeared altogether primitive and
outdated.

This led him to spend much time in public and private libraries, at
book sales, pushcarts, collections or older colleagues, in search of
compositions, recitatives and nusach-chants. He also prevailed on many to
sing for him melodies which he carefully transcribed. The problem of
finding appropriate harmonizations for synagogue chants was a troubling
one. Earlier composers and arrangers simply forced the medieval (or
earlier) tunes into the currently accepted occidental diatonic system of
harmonization.

Finding this method anachronistic, Ephros began a serious study of
the harmonies employed by contemporary composers. He soon located
two areas which seemed to shed light and indicate guidance. One was
Theory of Evolving Tonality, a scholarly volume by Dr. Joseph Yasser.
This book offered a new perspective on music, scales, tonality and
harmony. The other, most fortuitous find, was the examination and
analysis of the works of Joseph Achron. In these, and in subsequent
meetings, Achron clearly diagnosed the problem and prescribed the
remedy.

In essence, the solution lay in the ascription of primacy to the melodic
line and not the harmonic aspect. The melody is to decide the kind of
harmony which is to be employed. In deference to an archaic chant, for
example, the triad, a mainstay of current harmonic system, is to be divested
of its primacy. Parallel motion of forbidden intervals need not be shunned.
Quartal harmony is to be preferred.

Thus began the prodigious work of collecting, cleansing, arranging
and harmonizing (for solo, choir, organ) the music of Jewish liturgy which
resulted in the inestimably valuable five volumes of The Cantoriaf
Anthology. These volumes serve the needs of most Reform, Conservative
and Orthodox congregations. Volume 6, Recitativesfor Rosh Hashanah,
a most interesting compilation, appeared in 1969.

Volumes 1 through 5 were published within the 30 years (1927-1957)
Ephros served Congregation Beth Mordecai in Perth Amboy, New Jersey.
At his invitation, many contemporary Jewish composers contributed to
this collection. Also represented are many of the legendary, and some of
the younger hazzanim. Credit should also be given to many congregants

for their financial help toward publication.

A detailed description and evaluation of the contents of these six
volumes would require more pages than this Journal can offer. Suffice it
to say that practically every review known to me was laudatory. Among
those who lavished praise on these volumes in particular, and on the works
of Ephros in general, were the renowned critics Olin Downes, Howard
Taubman, Howard Klein, Alan Rich (all of the New York Times), Dr. Kurt
List, Prof. Hugo Leichtentritt (Harvard University), Dr. Charles Davidson,
Judith Eisenstein, Rabbi Ario Hyams, Abraham Sokes, Samuel Bugatsh
and Prof. Irving Cohen. As was pointed out by a number of critics, the
Anthology "serves as a rich source of old-new thematic material," and
even after several decades it is called " The Cantorial Bible."

Upon retiring from cantorial duties, Ephros was able to devote himself
exclusively to composing. These later compositions, such as S'lihot
(1962), L'YomHashabat (1966), Leil Shabbat (1967), Hallel V'zimrah
(1968), Torah Service (1970), Chanukah Service, Wedding Service,
Second Kedushah (all finished before 1977), Shiron Chadash (2 vols.),
plus some smaller items, deserve serious study and in-depth reviews.
Surely his unpublished works deserve publication.

Ephros also composed for the piano, violin, chorus, string quartets, a
Biblical (and Hebraic) Suite for Orchestra. A few of these items appeared
on a record celebrating the composer's 70th birthday. The reviews of these
compositions were invariably enthusiastic. J.S. Harrison, of the Herald
Tribune found the string quartet "extremely attractive." "The diatonic
tunes have life and lilt and serve admirably the contrapuntal development
... an impressive work."

" The Children' s Suite," said the reviewer in the New York Times, "has
an exotic charm. Without doubt the works of Gershon Ephros should
become better known. Then ultimate popularity is sure to follow."

Of his Leil Shabbat, Charles Davidson wrote: "only Ephros could
have conceived a service on such a grand scale and utilized the motifs and
modes of the traditional Friday Eve service in such an inspired and
interesting manner. Time and again the nusach is stated, transposed and
juxtaposed in a particularly skillful and artful manner. The Ana B'khoah
is particularly ingratiating with subtle and mystical overtones while the
Hashkiveinu is exceptional"

In a review appearing in the Jewish Frontier, Ario Hyams commented:
"In Gershon Ephros we have an accomplished and honest craftsman who
does not allow his modem techniques to obscure his essentially melodic
style."

At the age of 53 and again at 70, Ephros' s life was threatened by
cancer. In 1960 he underwent serious surgery, but eschewing complaints,
he meticulously continued his work in music. He was a loving husband and
father. His last major work, Shiron Chadash (a setting of 16 poems by
Chaim Nachman Bialik who asked Ephros to compose music for him) was
dedicated to his beloved wife. It was published posthumously in 1983 by
his children, Abraham and Helen. His last work for piano, Five Bagatelles,
written in 1977, was dedicated to his daughter.

Gershon was a mild-spoken, humble, affable, gentle, thoughtful,
considerate colleague and friend. One recalls him with a great deal of
affection and admiration. His contributions to Jewish music and to our
profession are enormous. Our indebtedness to him is immense. While I am
normally not inclined to mysticism, the enigmatic and the occult, I sense
an act of Heavenly Providence in the fact that in the year of 1890, when our
people mourned the passing of the great Solomon Sulzer, we were blessed
with the birth of Gershon Ephros.

34

HAZZAN YEHUDAH MANDEL:

APPOINTED ON RECOMMENDATION OF THE

ROGOCHOVER GAON

AKIVA Zimmerman

(This article appeared in the Israeli newspaper Yom Hushishi
September 15, 1989.) (translated from Hebrew)

Few are the Hazzanim who are blessed with the vitality that permit
their continued service even after reaching the age of senior citizens. One
of these is Yehudah L. Mandel. We recently heard him perform a weekday
Maariv (at the annual Convention of the Cantors Assembly, where he was
honored on his 85th birthday) and from the experience we know that he still
has the skill, the voice, the temperament, and knows how to properly
address his calling.

We interviewed him and discovered several unusual elements in his
rich background and memory. He was born in Csepe, a tiny village of 30
Jewish families in Hungary. His father served as Baa/ Tef/7/a/i and at times
took him to Szatmar where Hazzanim of note served. His father taught him
the appreciation of prayer. Yet before he could read he knew the pleasures
ofBirchotHushuchur, the opening section of the morning prayers. As was
the custom of the times, he studied in heder and by the age of nine knew
Gemara with Rashi's commentaries. His father taught him the poetry of
the Mahzor. Study followed in the Yeshivah of Rabbi Josef Nehemiah
Komitzer and then with Rabbi Avraham Josef Gruenwald.

In Ungvar, where he received ordination/smikha, the local Hazzan, J.
Gottlieb, asked him to join his choir, but Rabbi Gruenwald, the head of the
Yeshivah, insisted that studies continue for a time. While still a student, he
served as Hazzan in the City of Rosenberg. Though Hungarian by birth, he
was now a citizen of Czechoslovakia, based on the outcome of World War
I and the revision of national boundaries. He was obliged to enter the Army
where procedure permitted seminarians to do basic training followed by
noncombatant service.

The Director of the Army Band was on tour and heard rumors about

AKIVA ZIMMERMAN is a frequent contributor on the subject of Hazzanut to
many Israeli publications.

a young man with an exceptional voice. The Army's production of
Smetana's "Bartered Bride" was being prepared and young Mandel was
asked to participate. Mandel recounts his reaction to this assignment with
a wry smile as he says: "At the time I did not know the discipline, the text,
did not read music, and had never seen an opera. Yet because of my voice
I was assigned. I was coached to memorize the role and was literally
prompted on and off the stage." The military was impressed and an offer
was made to permit four years of study at the Prague Conservatory with a
career in opera as the goal. Yehudah relates that he was fearful of
approaching his father with the news of this career possibility, so he asked
his attorney uncle, Dr. Moses Bolgar, to intervene, though with no success
whatsoever. Yehudah' s father said: "I have seven children and if Yehudah
wishes to be a singer for the goyim I will only have six children." And thus,
in keeping with the percept of honoring parents, ended Mandel' s operatic
"career."

Yehudah' s studies continued in Pressburg. He received ordination
again and began serving various pulpits leading to the Montefiore Temple
in Vienna where he also enrolled in the Cantors Conservatory headed by
Hazzan Y. L. Miller. Among his teachers were the conductor Josef Milet
and Hazzan Gershon Margulieus. His first position following graduation
was in Novisad, Yugoslavia. He began giving concerts, sang on the radio,
and received growing recognition in Central Europe. After an appearance
in Kovno, Lithuania, he was elected to the Great Choir Synagogue of Riga,
Latvia in 1934.

This is where the recommendation of the Rogochover Gaon has
impact on this story. Riga was the city of Rosovsky, and competition for
the position was keen. It included the well-known Israel Alter and Riga
native Herman Yadlovker. The Rogochover Gaon visited Riga with
frequency and met the young cantorial candidate for several discussions.
When the question of final selection was made the Gaon wrote to the
directors of the synagogue and stated: "If it is your wish to have at your
pulpit a talmid hakham, choose Mandel." While in Riga, Mandel
concertized widely, befriended and appeared with Hazzan Moshe
Kusevitsky. In 1936 he was selected as one of four chief cantors of
Budapest at the Rombach Street Temple where his predecessors included
Baruch Schorrand Yaakov Bachman. In fact, he was the last Hazzan of the
Rombach Temple, as it was not refurbished after the Holocaust. Today the
shell of the building is being renovated as the Bourse of Budapest.

In Hungary during the Holocaust years he served in forced labor

camps, His wife and son escaped with the Kasztner group and arrived in
Palestine in 1945. It took until 1946 for Yehudah to follow them to
Palestine with the Spezia illegal immigration group after detention by the
British and a 96-hour hunger strike. In transit he held Passover Seder on
the docks of Spezia and composed the words and music to the group's
anthem: "We will not bend to any foe or fiend, not even to the guardians
of these shores..."

Arriving a few days before Shavuot, reunited with his wife and son,
he was aided by Dr. Moshe Weltman, a friend yet from Novisad. He
performed at the Yeshurun Synagogue and was offered the position of
Chief Cantor. Residence, however, could not be secured in Jerusalem.
Fortunately, agabbai of the Carmia Synagogue in Haifa heard him and
through this contact Mandel and his family settled there. His concerts and
appearances on Kol Yisrael were acclaimed in reviews appearing in the
Hatzofeh and Hagalgal publications.

In 1948 Mandel sailed to the U.S. to visit his sister in Philadelphia, the
sole other survivor among his six brothers and sisters. He appeared at
concerts on the east coast. One such appearance in New York was the
offering of a Yom Kippur Katan service at the First Rumanian- American
Congregation, where he was selected as Hazzan. After two years he
relocated to Philadelphia where he served for many years at Congregation
Beth Judah of Logan. Even after retirement he appeared there during
holidays until 1983 when the Synagogue closed. Since then he has
continued to perform high holiday services in Florida, Maryland and New
Jersey. A veteran member of the Cantors Assembly, he served as its
national president in 1972.

As it does not seem to havefound its way into Zimmerman' s biography
of Mandel, we must add that Mandel' s status among his colleagues in the
Cantors Assembly is without parallel. He has served for many years us
gabbai at the services held at Cantors Assembly conventions, and he is
truly one of the most cherished figures to be seen there. The affection for
this humble talmid hakham cuts across all ages and regions in the
organization. He is often imitated, but will never be equaled.

-Ed.

TOWARD THE 21 ST CENTURY:

CREATING THE FUTURE IN JEWISH MUSIC

MICHAEL ISAACSON

As we enter the last decade of this century, it seems prudent to plan
the future by taking inventory of the Jewish music that exists and, at the
same time, identifying the music that still needs to be created.

This is precisely the right time to ask yourself: "Do I know what music
is out there?" " Have I exposed my congregants to the very best of Jewish
music that is currently available?" and "What can I do to facilitate the
creation of good new Jewish music?"

In order to answer these essential questions you might like to involve
yourself in a satisfying activity which is sure to be instructive and thought
provoking: Take inventory with a Jewish music catalog.

To do this, simply open up the Transcontinental, Tara, Cantors
Assembly or JWB catalogs and reacquaint yourself with their offerings.
When you see something interesting that you've hesitated to peruse, or
learn more about, make a "should do" list of music to be studied and
acquired.

If you don't see a setting of a text or a genre which could use some
fresh music, make a note of that as well.

For example: Your religious school is celebrating a service in
recognition of its teaching staff. Do you have a song or setting of an
appropriate Jewish nature? A Bat Mitzvah family is looking for some new
music appropriate for a Jewish girl. Do y o u have anything which fits the
bill? Adult B' nei Mitzvah, couples celebrating anniversaries in
synagogue, senior citizens, etc. are leading a service dealing with the later
years of life. What fitting Jewish musical response can you provide?

MICHAEL ISAACSON is a synagogue composer, conductor and recording
producer who has written many highly regarded musical works for synagogue

With the expanded role of the synagogue in the contemporary Jewish
life cycle, new needs arise each day.

Many hazzanim have actively commissioned new works and are to be
congratulated for that, But for those who have not as yet participated in the
creative pursuit of new music, this is an ideal time to begin.

The best way to commission a new piece is through the joint team
approach. Getting together a group of colleagues and sharing mutual ideas
for new works will satisfy a number of needs:

It will pool the expenses of commissioning among several
congregations. This allows for the necessity of working within financial
limitations while enabling participants to commission better works from
professional, experienced synagogue composers. It will expose the new
music to a greater number of listeners, thereby assuring a better chance for
its initial hearing and acceptance, as well as subsequent performance. It
will create a network of performances and exchanges of information about
new Jewish music.

What does one receive for the investment in commissioning? There
are four answers:

1. The creation of a new work which satisfies a particular need that
personally identified by those who commission it.

2. The excitement of enjoying the first performance (or simultaneous
performance) of new music.

3. The lasting honor of having your name (and your institution's name)
on all printed copies of the music as well as on all printed programs of its
subsequent performances.

4. Most importantly, you receive the immense satisfaction in knowing
that, by your activism, you have helped to create a more musically active
Jewish future for you and your congregation and community. Now is the
time to begin!

If you have heard a good new work that you have not yet performed,
make it a priority to do so. if you don't know what's available, take
inventory and learn! If you identify a need that has not been addressed by
the creation of a new work, commission the new work by yourself or with
your colleagues.

The 21st century is only a decade away; have you begun creating the
future?

Ki K'shimkha

by Adolph Katchko

Ki K'shimkha Page 2

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Reprinted by permission of Cantor T. Katchko
and Sacred Music Press.

HASHKIVENU

based on a recitative by Jacob Koussevitsky/
D. Lefkowitz 12/2/85

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