Cantors Assembly Journal of Synagogue Music

Journal
of

Synagogue
Music

December, 1995 . Kislev 5755 . Vol. XXIV . No. 2

From the Editor Eric

Articles

Elements to consider when composing
synagogue worship music

Amerpop music in the conservative
synagogue

An address by the Cantors Assembly
President

The annual report of the Cantors
Assembly Executive Vice President

A prolegomenon to the study of the per-
formance practice of synagogue music
involving M'shor'rim.

The Mormon and the Cantor

Why Sidor Belarsky was popular among
American Jewry - A thesis

Herbert Fromm: 1905-1 995
A recollection

The Avodah Service: A fresh insight into
an ancient liturgy

Max Wohlberg 5

Charles Davidson 13

Abraham Lubin 1 7

Samuel Rosenbaum 22

Daniel S. Katz 35

liana Boin 81
Joel Colman 89

Murray E. Simon 131

Mis ha Pis man 134

The Bassanos: Venetian Musicians Jeffrey Nussbaum 139

and Instrument Makers in
England, 1531-1 665

Music Section U1

FROM THE EDITOR

This is an exciting time for technology in general, and for the Journal
specifically. Many changes are in the works which we hope will not only
maintain the Journal's historical high level of scholarship, but will also
make the Journal more accessible and usable on a practical basis for all
hazzanim in the field. There are plans to make all past Journal articles
available by mail, fax, and perhaps even E-mail. There will be major
changes made in the editorial structure of the Journal which should result
in a more timely and cost-effective publication. The fruits of our labors in
these areas will be evident in the very near future, and we appreciate our
readers' patience as we attempt to harness this new technology.

The hazzan of today finds himself/herself constantly pushed and
pulled to bring the music of the service to the lowest common denominator.
In this issue several of our most esteemed colleagues, speak to that very
issue.

Dr. Max Wohlberg has graciously provided a copy of a speech which
he gave to a conference of composers in Milwaukee in 1984. His com-
ments made more than eleven years ago are still cogent today.

In an article entitled "Amerpop Music In the Conservative Syna-
gogue," Hazzan Dr. Charles Davidson examines one of the most critical
and perplexing issues affecting today's hazzan, namely the use of current
popular "Jewish" melodies in the synagogue service, and the far-reaching
effects of this trend. Hazzan Davidson's thought-provoking words will
prove enlightening as each hzzaan seeks to bring Jews into the service and
then to provide a moving, spiritual experience once they are there.

In the near future the Cantors Assembly is hoping to reinstate the
printing of convention proceedings. To this end, we offer two eloquent
discourses given at the Cantors Assembly convention held in May, 1995.
First, we have the address of Hazzan Abraham Lubin as he assumed the
office of President of the Cantors Assembly. Hazzan Lubin deals with the
issue of the current role of the Hazzan, what it can be, and what it should
be and caps his speech with an original setting of

Finally, we print the annual "State of the Union" address given by one
of the most eloquent and knowledgeable hazzanim of our time, the
Executive Vice President of the Cantors Assembly, Hazzan Samuel
Rosenbaum. His words are articulate, cogent and speak to the heart of the
above issues vital to every hazzan. Hazzan Rosenbaum never "pulls his
punches", nor does he skirt the issue but attacks it head-on, yet always
without offending.

As we examine synagogue music today, Dr. Daniel Katz has written a
most scholarly presentation on the history of the use of m'shor'rim in the
synagogue. The information contained in Dr. Katz's dissertation will prove
invaluable in any presentation about the history of Jewish music.

In June, 1995, the world of Jewish music lost one of its most important
and influential figures by the passing of Sidor Belarsky, z"l. Belarsky was
among the most prominent practitioners of the Yiddish art song. His
recordings are still studied today, and his artistic style is unmistakable. We
reprint an-article about Belarsky from the Jewish Frontier f ollowed by a
thesis written by Cantor Joel Colman about the life and contributions to
Jewish music of Sidor Belarsky.

Still in keeping with nostalgia, Hazzan Murray Simon presents a warm,
touching, personal recollection of Dr. Herbert Fromm, one of our most
prolific composers for the synagogue. Hazzan Simon succeeded Dr.
Fromm in Boston in 1972, and portrays the various aspects of the man, the
composer, the musician.

The Cantors Institute (soon to be renamed) at the Jewish Theological
Seminary is a well-spring of new and upcoming talent. We offer here a
paper by Misha Pisman, a CI student slated for graduation in May, 1996,
which provides some fresh and very beautiful insights into the Avodah
Service for Yom Kippur.

The Bassanos: Venetian Musicians and Instrument Maker in England,
1531-1665, is reviewed by Jeffrey Nussbaum, the President and founder
of the Historical Brass Society. In my conversations with Mr. Nussbaum,
and my viewing of this group's professional journal, I have found several
selections with regard to Jewish music. We welcome this contribution and
hope it will be the first of many.

To round out this issue, we present several selections by Dr. Max
Wohlberg. The Keil Malei Rahamim requires no vocal gymnastics, is
simple enough to use at any funeral, yet is musically interesting and
expresses the meaning of the text. For those who think that you must leave
nusah behind to write lively congregational melodies which invite partici-
pation, we offer Dr. Wohlberg' s Yism'hu. Finally, his Adon Olam which
offers enough "excursions" to satisfy the musically adventurous, a digni-
fied setting again expressive of the text, yet completely and totally singable
for any congregation properly lead by its Hazzan.

Enjoy !

ELEMENTS TO CONSIDER WHEN COMPOSING
SYNAGOGUE WORSHIP MUSIC

By Dr. m

On my way yesterday to Milwaukee, I was thinking of the Jewish
composer. I compared him to artists in other areas. Some of the
similarities as well as dissimilarities between the composer and artists
in other areas seem to have some relevance to what 1 am about to say.
The painter who paints a beautiful picture, as seen in nature, gives us a
ready product — a-product which has a finality about it. It's there.
Nothing is to be done about it. You can't improve on it. i You can
look at it. It is a finished product. It will remain as is — as it was
painted.

A musical composition, however, does not have that quality of
permanence about it because its performance will depend on the
performer. If ten people sing the same composition, it may sound
differently with each singer. So the composition that is presented to us
is of a more elusive quality. Many years ago I read in an article that a
given symphony when conducted by Leopold Stokowsky can last or
did last approximately 13- 15 minutes longer than when the same
symphony was conducted by Arturo Toscanini. Toscanini didn't give it
all the schmaltz that was inherent in the composition, but Stokowsky
dragged it out and made use of it; the same symphony was performed
differently, the same notes were played differently.

So the musical composition will depend not only on the performer,
but the same performer, the same singer, will sing it differently today
than he will sing it tomorrow or sang it six months ago. Much depends
on the mood of the singer and on various other elements. In other
words, music varies, the same notes change. Even the dynamics that
composers put down on music — andante, allegretto, largo and presto
— are relative. The metronome figures are merely an indication, a
suggestion, a recommendation to the performer, but the performer will
interpret as he or she sees fit and feels at the moment.

The viewer of a picture, by viewing a product nevertheless
contributes something of himself due to his makeup, his knowledge —
or lack of it; his experience — or lack of it; his imagination — or lack

DR. MAX WOHLBERG is the Nathan Cummings Professor of Liturgy and
Synagogue Music Emeritus at the Jewish Theological Seminary of America.
Dr.Wohlberg now resides in Washington, D.C The above article was wntten on

of it. These will influence his looking and his understanding of this
object. The same thing occurs in music. The listener has to contribute
something — does contribute a great deal, actually — while listening to
it. The experienced musician or the sensitive listener will get a great
deal more out of a given composition than someone who is not a
musician or who is not sensitive to sound, to the delicacies of dynam-
ics. Thus, the more gifted we are, the more we will get out of a piece
of music. Therein lies some similarity.

On the other hand, it seems to me that the painter looks out, he
observes; he looks at nature; he looks at colors; he looks at figures, he
observes distance, shadings, shadows, sunlight. He looks out. The
composer looks at the text, but he has to look inside, within himself.
Introspection, I believe, is much greater and more decisive in compos-
ing than it is in painting.

There is one other valid and vital difference between the painter
and the composer in that if a painting is presented to me and I hang it
on the wall, I may look at it a number of times, but still it remains an
external object. It doesn't become part of my life. A composition,
particularly if I am a performer, becomes part of me. I have to learn it,
I have to sing it, I have to interpret it, and I have to feel what the
composer felt in order to give a proper interpretation. This involves
active identification with the composer.

This act of identification and inner relation must be the concern of
the composer of liturgical music to be sung in the synagogue; that is, to
become part of the service, he must give heed to things that the painter
is not interested in at all. The composer for the synagogue must pay
attention to me, the worshiper. He must give us music with which we
can pray. He must give me music that I can interpret; in which I will
find comfort, relief, sustenance, support, and even love.

The davener who comes to the synagogue to pray after a drab day
of mundane activities wants to be transported into a different mood
than he finds in business, in the market place. He wants to be lifted into
a spiritual realm. The musician has to give him this opportunity which
will lift him out of the drab surroundings of everyday life and elevate
him to a higher level of existence. The composer, the musician has to
provide the music that will accomplish this task.

Someone comes to the synagogue joyfully to celebrate a Bar or Bat
Mitzvah or a wedding of a member of the family. The composer for the
synagogue must create music which will enable him to feel this joy.
Someone comes into the synagogue to find consolation after a loss

sustained. The musician has to supply music which will comfort and
console this worshiper. The musician for the synagogue has to under-
stand me, the worshiper. He has to know what music I will feel, what
music I will understand, what music will not be jarring to me, but will

Now it seems to me the composer for the synagogue — more so
than the composer of liturgical music for the church because participa-
tion in the liturgy of the church is on a much smaller scale than it is in
the synagogue — must be aware of my limitations and of my abilities.
If you offer me music of a radically experimental nature, an ultra
modernistic quality which is foreign to me, it won't do justice by me, it
won't accomplish its task. Thus, there are certain limitations which a
synagogue composer is exposed to. He cannot give free rein to his
imagination because he is not writing music in the abstract. He's
writing music which is to be used for worship. Therefore, this music
has to become something personal, something intimate. It will be part
of me, unlike the picture on the wall, which never will. Because this
music will become a vehicle for the expression of my joys, of my
sorrows, of my hopes, of my disappointments, of my happiness, and of
my pain. This is admittedly a difficult task that the composer for the
synagogue has to face and therefore, it is proper — I must give credit to
our chairman, Cantor Eichaker — to have arranged this meeting. I am
delighted that I have the opportunity of meeting so many of my
colleagues who are involved in this same endeavor. We should
exchange viewpoints on this matter. Now, if a composer asks me,
"How am I to write for the synagogue?" I will say, "Before you sit
down and compose, you ought to know what there is, what has been
done until now in synagogue music."

If you look at the music of the synagogue, you find at least three
main areas in traditional music.

Cantillations — The manner in which we cantillate various books
of the Bible. There are approximately some twenty-odd signs over and
below the text in the printed Bibles and we chant those signs. How-
ever, those self-same signs are chanted differently when they appear in
the Five Books of Moses, when they appear in the Books of the
Prophets, when they appear again on Tisha b'av in the Kinot. When we
sing the Song of Songs, they assume a different melodic line with
different motifs. I think the Jewish composer ought to be aware of
these cantillation signs and their respective melodies because —
consciously or subconsciously — cantors and composers are influenced
by these signs.

One can write a whole composition merely using cantillation signs.
A listener would probably think it was a free composition.

Modes — Modes are not merely scales. They do fit into scales, but
each mode has certain characteristic motifs, little melodic figures which
o these given modes. Ninety percent or more of our
rvice is sung in these modes. There are specifically three
:e and each of these has its motifs.

When the cantor chants or improvises, he does so in the mode
commonly utilized for that part of the service. For instance, in the
Friday evening service, we have two modes dominant. We have the
Adonai Malach mode, which is a major-like mode with a lowered
seventh and a lowered tenth. But these lowered notes are not lowered
below the tonic. The second mode is the Magen Avot, which is a
natural minor mode equivalent to the notes from A to A. It has its
characteristic motifs, as do all the'modes. On the Sabbath morning, we
use different modes. A knowledge of these modes is essential.

Misinai Tunes — Finally, the third element which composers
ought to be acquainted with are so-called Misinai tunes -the tunes
that are supposed to have come from Sinai. They of course do not come
from Sinai. They are of much later origin. They are most likely from
Western Europe or Central Europe starting from about the 1 1th or 12th
century to about the 16th or 17th century.

I recently put down the number of Misinai tunes that my students
at the seminary ought to know. They added up to about 140. In
addition to these 140, there are some limited to certain localities;
therefore I did not include them.

Speaking of modes, I am reminded of an experience.. Some years
ago we had in New York at a Jewish music forum and an organization
called Mailam. Most Jewish composers belonged to it. At one of our
meetings I mentioned the fact that recently one of our composers
published a Sabbath morning service. As you know, that Sabbath
morning service is mainly the Ahava Rabba mode. This composer,
however, abstained from using the Phrygian mode altogether in the
entire book. Of course, I didn't mention his name though he was
present. (He was indeed a very fine composer.)

How come? I asked. Does this not show lack of respect for our
tradition? He spoke up and said, "I wanted to show that I can write
Jewish music without using the Phrygian mode."

I was delighted that A. W. Binder, for instance, and some of the
others present agreed with me, but the episode seemed odd. Of course,
one can write Jewish music without using the Phrygian mode. But, if

one is writing for the synagogue, why not follow the tradition of the
synagogues, and they do use this mode for the Sabbath morning

Now, o

n these three items that I just mentioned that is,

cantillations

modes and Misinai tunes — we base another three group

The first ar

hazzanic recitatives, accompanied or unaccompanied.

Then we ha

ve the choral compositions. Finally, we have instrumental

music free

)r based on our first three items.

Mycoi

cerns, and I'd like to hear some of your concerns, lie in th

g areas. Perhaps you wish to discuss them or take them into
ation. One is that I find that many Misinai tunes are disappear -
;ve disappeared, for various reasons. One of the most obvious
s that the text to which these tunes were joined were elimi-
nated from our prayers. Texts disappeared, the melodies disappeared.
They disappeared not only in the Reform congregation, but in the
Conservative synagogues as well and some even in the Orthodox. Now
I don't justify their disappearance because their texts disappeared. I
believe it is possible to retain these Misinai tunes and apply them to
texts that are still in the prayer book. Instead of singing, for instance,
on Passover evening Leil Shimurim, which is eliminated, sing this
melody to Umalchuto b'ratzon Kiblu aleihem, which is still found in
the prayer book. We can apply the old tunes to still-existing texts.

My second concern is that the proper modes are ignored by many
for various reasons. Some of it is due to simple ignorance. Some of it
is due to the fact that we want to introduce some nice, exciting melody
that happens to be in the wrong mode. We nevertheless introduce it.
While the intent may be worthwhile, these modes ought not to be
ignored.

Finally, a phenomenon which disturbs me very much. One of the
strongest, most vital facts in our life, in our Jewish life, is the reality of
Israel. Whether we are believers or atheists; Orthodox, Reform or
Conservative, Israel is very precious to us. For the past thirty-six years,
there is a land of Israel.

Alas, in our prayers, this existence of Israel is not reflected. How
can we utter our prayers, assert our peoplehood, without expressing the
reality, the validity, the existence of Israel? In our daily prayers, we
always did mention Jerusalem and we prayed for its welfare. When-
ever we ate, we praised the Builder of Jerusalem. We made mention of
Zion and Jerusalem, but it was just a hope and a dream. Leshana Haba-
a Birushalayim, "next year in Jerusalem," but today the dream became

a reality.

We ought not to limit
atzmaut, to one day in the year, but to its existence reflected in our
song, speech and prayer. This reflection is lacking. I miss it because I
am conscious of the holocaust practically every day of my life. I'm
painfully conscious of the tremendous loss involved, though 1 cannot
express it, I cannot find adequate expression for it. No words seem to
be strong enough and painful enough to express this tremendous loss.

But now I have something joyous, I have Israel. Our eyes are
directed toward it, our prayers are concerned with it. I'd like to see
some musical characteristic representation when we gather before the
Almighty to give thanks for the existence of Israel.

Having spoken of matters whose absence 1 deplore, permit me to
point to a musical element whose presence is a source of personal
annoyance. Every rabbi wants to have a lively, spirited congregation.
Ruach — spirit, is the much sought-for ingredient. Cantors likewise
seek congregational participation. As we now have Chassidic song-
festivals throughout the country, people hear new. snappy, catchy.
lively little tunes, which attain considerable popularity.

1 visualize a rabbi telling his cantor, "Have you heard . . , T And
receiving a favorable reply, will respond, "Excellent! Let's bring it into
our congregation." The cantor accepts the suggestion of the rabbi and
perhaps he himself is in favor of it. Thus sonic rather trite, cheap,
vulgar tunes are introduced into our services, enabling our worshipers
to clap their hands and to stamp their feet. Alas, too few are suffi-
ciently sensitive to realize that they do not fit into a dignified service.
They are most likely not only in the wrong mode, but in the wrong
mood. The text is often butchered, and most likely the pronunciation,
accent and emphasis are all wrong. These items may qualify as
Zemirot, as table songs, but not as music. A quality native and natural
to a Chassid in Meah Shearim is artificial and spurious to the rest of us
living in a differing milieu.

Since I mentioned Israel, I want to say that in all my previous visits
there, I used to visit the synagogues of the eastern communities — such
as the Yemenite, Syrian, Bokharian, and other exotic communities.

On my last trip, this past summer, I wanted to visit only the
Ashkenazi synagogues. I wanted to hear if in the Ashkenazi syna-
gogues in Israel, something new has happened during these past 36
years — if a new Israeli quality entered the service of the Ashkenazi
synagogue. So I visited the Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, and the
so-called Progressive synagogues. I also worshipped at Mevakshei

Derech, which has a Reconstructionist philosophy -- a unique,
wonderful congregation. I also attended the Italian synagogue. I was
anxious to hear a new melodic strain, the sound of young Israel that can
be imported into the United States.

I listened to the Ashkenazi services. I met with the cantors, choir
leaders, composers, and rabbis of various congregations, teachers at
various universities, and so on, to discuss this problem. I'm sorry to
say, I heard nothing new. They're still singing the music that they
brought from Milwaukee and Philadelphia, from Chicago and from
Cleveland, from Vienna and from Lemberg. Nothing new. There was
something else that bothered me. And here I had conflicting desires.

Thirty years ago, I met a Yemenite rabbi and an Egyptian cantor
who were still conversant with the old traditions of the communities
from whence they came. Many of those old timers have passed on.
The younger people who succeeded them are not as knowledgeable of
the old traditions. And so I wished to preserve a memory, a remem-
brance of what was done in Yemen, Morocco or Algiers once upon a
time. In other words, the tradition of old has weakened.

But while I wanted the old retained, I also wanted to see a new
development. Please keep in mind that this is the first time in our
history that a Yemenite congregation is located near a Moroccan
congregation, which is adjacent to a German congregation next to a
Syrian congregation facing a Bokharian congregation overlooking one
from the United States. A literal assemblage "from the four corners of
the earth." But we pray: Vekabtzeinu Yachad brings us together. I
would have liked to see some little element which they all have in
common, because we do want to create one nation, one people, Goy
Echad — one people. Israel, one people. So, while I want the
Yemenites to sing their tunes, I also want to see some connecting link
between this Yemenite and the Moroccan and the German and the
French and the American.

Am I making myself clear? I would have liked to see some
unifying factor, some bit of integration between these far-flung
communities which are now, for the first time, together. Equally
important is the fact that never in our history have there been six
million Jews in one country as we have in the United States. If,
therefore, a historic need, involving the economic or cultural welfare of
our people, arises, it is up to the six million to alleviate this need. As
far as Synagogue music is concerned, it is, I believe, the American
Jewish composer who will have to help find solutions to these prob-
lems, if you consider them problems. I'm sorry to say, when it comes

to creativity of Synagogue music, we cannot expect much from Israel.
There is little being created in Israel for the mother synagogue.

In all of Israel, there are only four good choruses. There are only
two synagogue choirs — one in Jerusalem and one in Tel Aviv. The
music heard is ancient music. When a composer is asked to compose
for the synagogue, he is as a rule, asked to compose for an American
synagogue. Commissions are for export.

I've voiced some of the problems which concern me. You may
have others. Let us exchange views and hear each other's opinions.
I'm confident that in the time we have here today — others will join us
tomorrow -we will augment our views, enrich our understanding and
benefit from each other's experience. Perhaps, new creativity will
emerge from that.

AMERPOP TUNES IN THE CONSERVATIVE
SYNAGOGUE

by CharlEs DAVIDSON

For some observers a disquieting pattern of musical-cross-over
from the Reform Movement to some Conservative synagogues seems to
be emerging: the use of America-pop style melodies in liturgically
inappropriate places in the Liturgy.

Many of these tunes are indistinguishable in style, harmonic flavor and
form from American light-popular music. In the Reform congregation
their use was perhaps understandable: a musical language familiar to the
congregant who listens to the radio, watches television or goes to the
movies; minimal textual challenges for congregants who generally do not
read Hebrew; an historical lack of liturgical participation by the syna-
gogue-goer, etc. But within the past several years Amerpop tunes have
made inroads into a number of Conservative synagogues where those
services had previously been completely based upon traditional nusah.
These incursions have prompted strenuous objections by some hazzanim
and have been just as vigorously championed by others.

Are there historical precedents for the inclusion of songs in the
"popular" style in our musical liturgy?

Popular secular tunes from both Jewish and non-Jewish sources and
their entry into our sacred music is a phenomenon the dates back to ancient
times. Many Psalm texts, as their headings indicate, were sung to the tunes
of well known folk melodies, which in effect were the "pop" music of the
time, and as far back as the Second Temple, scholars wrote of their
disapproval of the Greek songs that were heard in the sanctuaries of Israel.2

In the Sephardi tradition Jewish poets and paytanim had, since the 10th
century, deliberately selected well known secular Arabic melodies for
their poetry. The new texts could then be easily sung by the congregation
at first hearing. This music and the poetry it carried was sung in synagogal
services in Babylonia, Syria, Morocco and Spain.3

I Yehuda Ratzabi (1966) in Amnon Shiloah, Jewish Musical Tradi-
tions, 1 992, p. 72. This singing of well known tunes to different texts is
called contrafact.

! Idelsohn, Jewish Music In Its Historical Development, 1929, 2nd
printing. 1940, p. 112.

CHARLES DAVIDSON is the i

He is the Nathan Cummings Professor of Nusah at the Cantors In

Theological Seminary of America.

In the 14th century, Jacob Levi Molin, the Maharil, established a
musical ritual for the Ashkenazi synagogue service, sanctioning specific
tunes for specific services. But in spite of this formalizing of the musical
ritual, people who mingled all week with gentiles in business, upon
returning home to the Ghetto on Shabbat, demanded that the hazzan sing
the tunes they knew from the outside world, to the great dismay of Jews
with adifferent sensitivities anddespite the protest of rabbis.4 Thus, within
100 years of, and in spite of the Manaril's proclamations, the synagogue
service included German, Bohemian, Polish and Russian folk-music
adapted to liturgical text.5

This vacillating between rejecting and at other times accepting
secularisms into the musical fabric of the synagogue continued throughout
our history, For example, in the 13th and 14th centuries this practice was
condemmed but in the 15th and 16th centuries it was tolerated. 6 At least
one scholar states that when "new" music was accepted it may have been
because it had some Semitic features or echoed a synagogue modality.'

A strong complaint from the 16th century, that could be echoed in the
20th, was that hazzanim introduced music for prayers which did not have
a liturgical history of being sung either by the congregation or at great
length by the lia;:umm.S

Inconsistency in the official response to secular tunes continued into
the 17th and 18th centuries when the rabbis complained that "hazzanim in
our generation . . . transfer tunes from the secular to the sacred." Some

4 ibid., pp. 178-9

i Eric Werner, 'A Voice Still Heard," 1976, p. 5

'ibid.

7 Idelson, p. 176

'Within the past decade several tunes for Sabbath morning's Ledor
Vador have become widespread. However, this particular text is the lynch-
pin which defines the nusah of the passages which follow it. As such, it was
always the chant-prerogative of the precentor, not of the congregation. In
our European past there were always occasions outside of the prayer
service suitable for the singing of "popular" and spirited tunes which
relfected the secular culture: Shabbat Zemirot and the Haggadah for
example. In most American- Jewish communities these opportunities are
either limited or do not exist. Perhaps, therefore, the tefillot and "Jewish
camp" are the only places left for Jewish-American musical expression.
Amerpop tunes might not be so objectionable to those who find them so
if they were limited to anthems or hymn texts such as Ein Keiloheinu, Adon
Olum or Lekhu Dodi where there is somewhat more popular tradition.

ill

:ors as well, also disapproved of the practice and wrote that "hazzanim
1 to take tunes from the theatre or the dance hall and used them for the
'ice."9 0n the other hand, Rabbi Joel Sirkes of 16th century Poland and
eat talmudic scholar, contended that he had no objection to permitting
n church melodies in the synagogue if they were universal in appeal.

In our time, the inclusion in israeli synagogues of the popular
"Yerushalayim Shel Zahav" to the Kedushah and the well known Arabic
melody "YaMustafa" (known in French as "Cherie je ta'aime" [I Love You
Dearest] " to the Kaddish shows a disregard for and an indifference to
appropriate nusah as well as a blurring of lines between the sacred and
secular. On the other hand, over the years, some tunes which originated in
the secular culture are now accepted as "traditional" in the synagogue: Ein
Keiloheinu, Maoz Tsur, Eli Tziyon, the Lekha Dodi tune for Sephira and
others.

It is obvious that the inclusion of Ameripop-style tunes is meant to
enhance participation. But, as some hazzanim have since discovered, the
ease of their absorption in prayer is in direct proportion to the difficulty in
dislodging these tunes from the service. A melody that will soon sound
cloying to the professional who perceives them as lacking real value or
substance can easily become a favorite of the worshipper who will find its
popharmony reassuring. Conservative clergy should look for other alter-
natives to "beef-up" congregational singing rather than be "trapped" into
keeping music that is difficult to dislodge.

In the traditional east European synagogue congregational prayer was
stimulated by the hazzan who seldom used full length tunes. In that
synagogue the congregation chanted audibly wifhan impassioneddavennen
that was highlighted by cantorial song. Both hazzan and congregation
knew the parts they had to play and they inspired one another. I addition
to creating a background of "murmurai" which he hazzan used as a canvas
upon which he created his solo reflections, the kahal often sang short
phrases of melody with the hazzan as part of his recitative or zogn. There
are many examples of these short, 4 or 6 bar tunes. Such phrases are found
for example in the Kudesheinu of Katchko, V'chol boeolum of Shlisky, as
well as in the of Rosenblatt, Ganchoff, Moshe Kussevitsky and many
others. With the lessening of synagogue skills in our time this partnership

9YehudahLeib Moses and Solomon Lifshitz were the writers. Idelsohn,
p. 209

10 Encyclopaedia Judaica, 1619-20

11 ibid., p. 66

has eroded if not disappeared. In its place a participatory vacuum exists
which up to recently was felt mostly in the Reform service but now is
becoming more of a problem for Conservative rabbis and cantors. Should
the Conservative elements follow suit and give up the distinctly Jewish
"give-and-take" of hazzan-kahal interchange in favor of Amerpop banal-
ity? It is fervently hoped not.

The instruction and advice given to the large number of Reform and
Conservative cantors who are graduates of our cantorial schools, should
speak to the question, but perhaps it is not addressed from the point of view
of nusah . If this is the case it is unfortunate and does not resound to the
credit of our schools. It seems obvious to some that music which is
appropriate to Disney-movies and TV is not necessarily music which is
appropriate to prayer no matter how comfortable the familiar patterns and
harmonies may make some worshippers feel.

However, the question of using the techniques of "our time" to add a
contemporary flavor to services is certainly moot. Blending the music of
contemporary American culture with proper nusah is the real challenge to
today's creative spirit.

It is a challenge that American Jews who write for the synagogue
should accept.

Do the current pop incursions into the service mirror a centuries-old
tradition of such adaptations? The answer is probably yes. Do these songs
serve a utilitarian function in the Reform service? The answer again is yes.
Should this same process be encouraged in Conservative synagogues? Not
without losing the smooth flow of nusah ha-tefillah which should charac-
terize the musically sophisticated Conservative service and not without
surrendering what is precious for what is patently dispensable.

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A SPEECH BY THE CANTORS ASSEMBLY'S
PRESIDENT

By Hazzan Abraham LUBIN

Thank you Nate for your kind words. My dear colleagues and friends
of the Cantors Assembly. It is with a profound sense of gratitude and
trepidation, that I accept this highest honor of the Cantors Assembly's

of a Mitzvah, namely, fear and

is so true (and indeed appropri-

and devotion to a noble cause, brings

are afraid, we tend to take extra

e take the first step, before we make

i final judgment and come to a reasoned

The other emotion is that of love. True love is total commitment and
absolute devotion. True love is unconditional and selfless. I intend to
approach my tasks with these same two complimentary emotions, as I
assume the office of President of the Cantors Assembly.

I pledge to you today, that as President of our beloved Cantors
Assembly, I will make every effort to be inclusive; to find a reasoned
consensus of opinions expressed by all of you, members of the Cantors
Assembly, the very lifeblood of our organization; I will seek the wisdom,
counsel, strength and support of every one of your elected Officers. I
intend to draw heavily on the wealth of experience, the wide ranging
knowledge of the inner workings of the Cantors Assembly, and the sheer
wisdom and good counsel of our management and administration exhib-
ited by our Executive Administrator, Abraham Shapiro. I know I will not
hesitate for a moment to call on all the wisdom and experience of my most
immediate predecessors in this office; Hazzanim Stephen Stein, Nate Lam
and Robert Kieval, as well as everyone of our beloved past Presidents, who,
each in his own way, continues to give of his time and counsel to the work
of the Cantors Assembly. They are Sol Hammerman, David Leon,
Solomon Mendelson, Ivan Perlman, Morton Shames, Gregor Shelkan,
Kurt Silbermann, Charles Sudock, Isaac Wall, and Max Wohlberg. And
I remember with deep gratitude, the inspiration and the work of our past
Presidents who are no longer with us, but without whom this organization
would not be existing and thriving today. They are Hazzanim Michal
Hammerman, Arthur Koret, Yehuda Mandel, Saul Meisels, Nathan

Mendelson, Moshe Nathanson, David Putterman, Abraham Rose, and
Moses Silverman. May they always be remembered for good. Aleyhem
Hashulom.

Let me now turn your attention to the single most important issue that
burst upon the American- Jewish community in the wake of the 1990
National Jewish Population Survey. The issue as we all so painfully know,
is that of Jewish Continuity.

It was shocking to learn that, and I quote, "In recent years just over half
of born Jews who were married, at any age, chose a spouse who was born
gentile, and has remained so, while &than 5 percent of these marriage
include a non- Jewish partner who became a Jew by choice."

As we enter the last half of this century and are practically at the portals
of the 21st century, we need to quickly respond to the challenge of this
single most serious complex and far reaching agenda item of the North
American Jewish community.

As Hazzanim we have a central role to play in bringing about a turning
point in the present direction of rampant assimilation among such large
segments of the Jewish community.

We need to seriously review, rethink and once and for all re-examine
our task and priorities as Shlichay Tzibbur, serving the needs of our
congregations and communities whose very existence and continuity is in
question.

Let me, if I may, make one modest suggestion which I believe we as
Hazzanim need to accomplish, if we are to make adifference in the quality
of Jewish life of the congregants we serve.

I would like to use as point of reference a phrase found in the Ahavah
Rabbah prayer. We are all familiar with the musical connotation of the
Ahavah Rabbah mode. We know, of course, that inherent in this exciting
mode are found a diversity of melodic possibilities from the most joyous
song such as Havah Nagilah

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to the most solemn chant of Eil Maley Rachamim.

ED Ma • ley Ravhi • mini

Textually this prayer, which introduces the Sh'ma contains the follow-
ing phrase: Lishmoa, Lilmod, Ulemamed, Lishmore Ve-la-asot." (To hear,

This liturgical instruction, ought to be our personal agenda and credo
as Hazzanim, as we approach the transition from the 20th and into the 21 st

century.

Let me briefly delineate each of these words of instruc-
tion:

Lishmoa ■ To hear

We need to hear and to listen to our congregants. What
are they saying to us? What are the present needs? Not what
the needs of their parents and grandparents were. But what
are their needs today?

Lilmod ■ To study

Each one of us, no matter how young or old, needs to
set a time for personal study to equip ourselves adequately
with as much knowledge in various areas of skill, in order
to function fully and better in a variety of ways.

U-lelamed ■ To Teach

We must be involved in the educational program of our
congregations. We need to be creative in finding avenues
and opportunities to teach what we know and love so much.
We need to make the worshipers as excited and enthusias-
tic about Tefilah (prayer), Jewish music, the Hebrew
language, Jewish culture and everything in between.

Lishmor ■ To observe

We must constantly be on the watch, and observe and
recognize the tremendous changes that are rapidly occur-
ring in the dynamics of present day congregational life. We
need to respond actively and creatively and not to sit back
passively and continue "business as usual," and only react,
sometimes, a little too late.

Ve-la-asot ■ And to do

Ah! Ha! This is the core of it all. To do the Maaseh. The
hard work that we need to do in every area of the synagogue's
program where we can apply our special skills and expertise where we anc
we alone can make a difference.

Our reward will be to know that we truly matter in the scheme of things,
we can and we better make a difference.

As Shlichay Tzibbur ("Emissaries of the community") we must serve
the Tzibbur ("The community") with the crucial needs of today in order to
secure the continuity of tomorrow.

In conclusion I want to add that students of Jewish history are not so
alarmed, and are well aware that this is not the first time when continuity
of the Jewish people, its faith, language and culture were threatened.
However, in each instance our response and resilience averted the impend-
ing calamity.

Let me cite but two examples: Following the destruction of the 2nd
temple in 70 c.e. when the continuity of Jewish existence was threatened,
Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakkai, one of the leading sages of the 1st century,
restored Jewish life and scholarship in the city of Yavneh, which quickly
became the religious national center for a dispersed community.

Closer to our day, in the 19th century, Judah Leib Gordon (183 1- 192),
one of the outstanding Hebrew poets of the 19th century, wrote a poem
called "Le-mi Ani Amel" (For Whom do I Labor?") in which he cried out
in despair. "Oh who can tell the future, who can tell me?/Perhaps 1 am the
last of Zion's poets/and you, the last readers." Gordon feared the demise of
the Hebrew language with himself. Yet - who followed him? Only the
greatest Hebrew poet of modern times: Chayim Nachman Bialik (1873-
1934), whose genius and spirit have left an indelible imprint on modern
Hebrew 1

Unlike Judah Leib Gordon, I am not ready or willing to say Kaddish
d ask if we are the last of Zion Hazzanim and our congregants the last

Let us take our example from our Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakkai who,
in the midst of the ruins and destruction of Jerusalem and its temple, picked
up the pieces and did the Maaseh, the work. He restored Jewish life, Jewish
scholarship, the Institution of the Sanhedrin, and Jewish prayer in a city
called Yavneh. It occurred to me that the spelling of the name Yavneh is
the same as the Hebrew word Yibaneh - "It shall be rebuilt." To paraphrase
another great sage, Rabbi Elazar who spoke in the name of Rabbi Chanina:
"Al tikray Yavneh Ela Yibaneh" - Do not read Yavneh but Yibaneh - "It
shall be rebuilt."

We must not despair. There will be continuity of a strong and thriving
Jewish community here in America. If only we build and rebuild. We as
Hazzanim, must play a crucial and central role in this enterprise and
renaissance of the Jewish heart, the Jewish should and the Jewish spirit.

"Im tirzu ein zu agadah" - "If you will it, it is not a dream"

Thank you.

Please join me in the refrain of the Shehecheyanu.

SHEHECHEYANU

By Abraham LUBIN

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THE ANNUAL REPORT OF THE EXECUTIVE VICE
PRESIDENT ■ CANTORS ASSEMBLY

By Hazzan Samuel Rosenbaum

"The American Synagogue: A Work in Progress"

An exploration of the rapidly evolving nature ol faith, prayer choices, and Hazzanut

It was not long after I began to prepare this report that I realized
what a difficult task the Committee had carved out for me. As is my
custom before I begin to write a Report I read through all of the
previous ones I have given over the years. And although the language
is different, one after another, the general content concerned itself, to a
great degree, with the dilemmas and the discontents of the Hazzan,
together with some thoughts on how we might go about alleviating
them.

After reading my 1994 Report, I was convinced that I could, in all
honesty, repeat it this year. Every problem that I had described, and
every course of action that I had suggested seemed as valid today as
they were last year. As a matter of fact, some of the problems have
become even more depressingly acute. And to make things worse,
neither my diagnosis, nor my remedies seem to have made any differ-
So, I turn to a small, random group of colleagues and friends, who
I felt were faithful, knowledgeable Jews, faithful Hazzanim, thoughtful
and creative professionals. I asked them to take some quiet time to
respond to a letter from me asking for their help.

I told them that this report was meant to be the subject of a panel
discussion of rabbanim as well as hazzanim. I indicated that we were
pleased that we were growing closer as colleagues and to the under-
standing that we are really two sides of the same coin.

For general topic, I continued, would concern itself with an
appraisal of a number of major concerns: The state of our faith and that
of our congregants or the lack of it; our unhappiness with our shrinking
liturgy together with its appropriate chant, which go to make up the act
we know as prayer.

I added that we would also include some consideration of God:
How do we feel about God? The One we believe in, the One we know;
the One we worship, the One we love or the One we feel we cannot

HAZZAN SAMUEL ROSENBAUM is Executive Vice President of the Cantors Assembly.

know, and the One whom some dismiss as irrelevant after the Holo-
caust; and in the face of the spreading evil and violence across the face
of the entire world. (See Tokyo, Oklahoma City, Waco, Bosnia, The
Middle East, Rwanda, Iraq, Sarajevo, Georgia, Sacramento, etc., etc.,
etc.) Even more to the point, how do our congregants feel about the
relationship between God and these events?

Many of these problems are beyond our capacity to control, either
as hazzanim or rabbanim or as ordinary, sane human beings. But this is
what the real world is like today, as Klfy Kodesh it is crucial that we
talk openly about them together, and try to deal with them together, for
they certainly impact on all humanity, on all religions, on all beliefs.

Could we think of spending time studying techniques and skills
and art and music without making some response to these plagues
which seem to bar the way to a future unlike anything we have known
in the past?

I have no doubt, I concluded, that the world, and with it Judaism
and all religions, is always changing, that life is always a "work in
progress," with change the only unchanging thread that weaves through
all Creation, that ties us to the mists of the void before Time from
which we rose, up to the very minute they read my words.

Twelve of the twenty colleagues to whom I had written responded;
in the most intelligent, observing and articulate fashion one could
imagine. I am indebted to them for their openness, their perceptive
views and their pleasure at being asked. Four more of my colleagues
called me on the telephone and without exception, our talks, some of
which lasted more than an hour were of the same high quality as the

We covered our major fears and misgivings over the present and
the future. On the other hand, there was a certain instinctive optimism
that, as in the past, amkha, the people and we, working together, will
somehow weather this storm that at the moment threatens to sweep us
away. Let me list them:

The shrinking service, the death of the choir and the concomitant
burial or banishment to the Hazzan's dead file of so many choral
treasures. The almost total disregard of the age-old discipline of nusah
which constitutes She heart and soul of our prayer traditions. The
seeming inability of the congregation to understand that to sit and to
listen, in an ambiance of sanctity, is participation. There are those who
believe, and I am among them, that silent meditation is the highest state
of holiness we can hope to achieve.

That to mumble - or to articulate the Hebrew text clearly is to

Yes, there is a pleasure and a comfort, in a mystical way, that
singing gives us a sense of the spirit of God; not in the same way that
the earth or the sun or a bird does, but as beauty or as nature or as art
does; as an abstraction fashioned by our minds.

At some special moments the spiritual element of singing is
movingly apparent; it can recall a haunting memory or a hope. And
even people with deaf ears and voices like crows have a right to enjoy
that spiritual experience. But as congregational singing is carried on in
all too many of our synagogues and is called participation, has little
sanctity or greatness in it. And greatness and sanctity - in the best
sense of those words - is what our faith should inspire. However, as a
matter of fact, in many of our congregations, congregational singing is
just a euphemism for less Hazzanut.

The growing rush to the use of amateur prayer-leaders, which if
carried to its logical extreme, would make the rabbi and hazzan
irrelevant, and is a negation of the years of study and experience of
these professionals, as well as a deprecation of the value and meaning
and need for the seminaries which produce them. This "Don't bother
me with knowledge or technique or experience, I don't need these as
long as my heart is in the right place" this attitude trivializes the
holiness of prayer. To me, the act of leading a congregation in prayer
without sufficient knowledge of the Hebrew or the nusach, or the
proper mode or tune for the occasion, is not true prayer but hilut
IhisIwiii.

From the earliest days of the Synagogue to the present, the greatest
concern of the elders of the congregation was the worry over who
would follow them in bringing new life into synagogues they built and
loved. Now, when younger people are wooed into the pews, the tables
have turned. Synagogues, as well as churches, increasingly are run by
recruits. The elders are gently brushed aside to make room for the
baby-boomers, the 20 to 40 years old generation, who now control
many of the gavels, the budgets and the chairmanships of the syna-
gogues.

This generation is generally skeptical of organized religion, and
brings with it their shoppers' and business mentality. Their chief
concern, maybe their only concern, is the bottom line, or getting their
money's worth. In the process they are re-formulating congregational
life into just another business and asking the professionals to recognize
it and act accordingly. They are also not as generous with their time or
money as their parents were, and they are apt to contribute much more

readily to social causes of all kinds than to synagogue operations
budgets. Unlike their parents, who were content to let the rabbis and
ministers set the agenda, this generation wants to lead.

They remind me, in their blind rush to re-invent the synagogue, in
their own image, of the old Yiddish aphorism, "tzvey meysim geyen
tantzn" (two corpses are about to dance whom our parents described —
two incompetents about to undertake something beyond them.)

They also want a hand in re-organizing the prayer service and the
prayer texts. There is a great push to edit, change or make substitutions
in the liturgy and in many observances.

In a very perceptive paper by Deborah Reed Bland, Instructor in
Liturgy at the Seminary, she writes in part in the Winter issue of
"Conservative Judaism. "

"It must be emphasized that according to the Conservative
understanding liturgy, change can and does occur. But change can
not be suddenly nor externals motivated and effected by those who ■will
be most affected (by the changes)...

! I l i i l I I l I I II l

is not the place for constant changes in expressions, except insofar as
the inclusion of our tradition is a part of our own self-expression.
Liturgy is not the place for ideologies, which move us away from
contemplation.

"Liturgy, nevertheless, can and does change, both in theory und in
reality. But we must ask ourselves: ' Whut is the nuture of the change
under consideration? Will the change result in a liturgy that enacts
this, that is rooted in tradition J" Is the change worthy of becoming
authoritative and binding? Is it capable of outliving newer ideological
stances, which may he fashionable today, hut will sound silly or
inappropriate tomorrow?"

The discussion here today is not intended as an historical, nor a
sociological, nor a theological exercise. It is an attempt to isolate the
very real problems which confront rabbis and hazzanim as they mount
their pulpits each Sabbath, festival or holy day: How to get the for-the-
most-part-inert-mass which we call the "congregation" to understand
what in heaven (or hell) is going on, in order that this mass, or at least a
respectable portion of it, can be induced or seduced to give some
genuine attention to the proceedings; to gain some understanding of its
relevance to them as human beings and as Jews, so that they may begin
to feel, instead of going through the motions of prayer in the spirit of
reluctant tolerance, to feel and to become emotionally involved.

This cannot be achieved merely by asking them to join in "contem-

porary congregational readings, " or even by the unbridled singing of
inappropriate congregational tunes. These musical exercises soon
become thought-free and emotion free, automatic reflex responses. It
seems to me that we must learn all over again how to instill the concept
of highly individual and personal thought in prayer.

Many of us who are concerned with the problem of prayer recall
with great longing the golden moments of davening with a grandfather
in his shul. Yet, very often we fail to identify the critical ingredient of
that golden age, even discounting the soft-focus lens of nostalgia. That
ingredient was not enforced unanimity, but rather individuality within
the framework of a common prayer experience.

It was not a song-fest nor a congregational reading, but rather an
individual reading/singing or murmured response. Nor was anyone
concerned that some grandpas were behind or ahead of the "place" in
the siddur.

We fail in our attempts to organize that which is, and must remain
in large measure, highly personal, individual and therefore, not organ-
izable. Pavlov's dogs salivated at the sound of a bell, even though they
received no nourishment from those sound waves. Our congregations
are filled, or half-filled, with people who sing, read, sit, stand on
command; although they too, like Pavlov's dogs, are denied a nourish-
ment of the spirit.

Certainly, one of the most serious obstacles today to achieving a
richer Jewish life is the wide-ranging illiteracy of a great mass of
American Jews, not only historically, culturally and spiritually; which
must inevitably lead to an estrangement from prayer and synagogue
life.

We, rabbis and hazzanim, should be engaged in something more
basic. First, in exploring and explaining the meaning of the liturgy; not
at services that only serves to break the spirit and the rhythm of the
prayer mode but in a classroom, or a study group, or in adult classes or
in one-on-one encounters, if necessary, for as long as they are needed.
Or in the next best way, in providing beforehand some accessible aides
to understanding the prayer book. Understanding can contribute to
feeling, in the true sense of the word, and involvement, which must be
achieved before anyone can daven.

Some simple examples will illustrate the point. Everyone has been
at a funeral at some time. What moves the mourners most at the
service are the eulogy and the chanting of Eyl Maley Rahamim. The
eulogy moves them because the bereaved understand what is being said
and are touched by it. Their own memories of the deceased are

highlighted by the words of the eulogy. They also probably do not
understand the words of the Eyl Maley; the humanist college graduate
or Ph.D. mourner might even object intellectually to the concept of jm
Eden which the liturgy articulates. But that mourner somehow senses,
in a general way, that this chant is a prayer for the eternal rest of a
mother, father or spouse. And they are moved and comforted even as
they continue to reject the myth of Eden.

If they even trouble to think about it in the intellectual sense, they
can choose in their own minds what eternal rest means for them. But
that is of no consequence. Because they can accept and feel the thrust
of the sentiment as well as the knowledge that the Hazzan is expressing
the deepest wishes of their own hearts as well as their most secret fears
for the day when the words will be invoked for them.

A similar situation applies in such well-known sections of the high
holy day ritual, such as B 'rosh Hashanah or Al tashliheynu I 'eyt
ziknah.

In the former, no matter how little Hebrew the congregant may
have mastered, the contemporary Jew somehow senses that it is a
prayer that lets the worshipper's most tragic fears and intense hopes all
hang out: life or death, peace or war, famine or plenty, length of days or
a lingering death, prosperity or poverty. Whether he believes the myth
of the great Heavenly Ledger or not, your congregant knows very well
that the options recited are valid and that they are terribly difficult
paradoxes to face without some emotion. So, they feet the prayer, and
may even shed a tear. Maybe the person in the pew remembers
someone who stood next to them the last time they had heard these
words, or maybe the next time he hears the words he may very well be
bereft of someone now standing at his side.

I firmly believe that the great majority of our silent congregations
would opt in favor of traditionalism in prayer, if they could solve the
mysteries of the prayer texts.

The buzz word today is participation. We are hung up on the word
participation, We forget that ideal participation in the synagogue
service consists in becoming involved with the concepts and imagery of
the text; with reviewing our lives, with isolating ourselves in our own
thoughts, while at the same time permitting the warmth and fellowship
generated around them by other Jews and blending them with their
own, and in the process, join with neighbors in the common pursuit of
transcendent prayer.

very nature of their skills; especially those who chain us to the literal

context of the centuries old words and do not permit us to enjoy the
mystical free flights of fancy of the poet to come through.

How deadly are the English translations for Jul and Geshem in the
"United Synagogue/Rabbinical Assembly Sabbath and Festival Prayer
Book!" The historical connotations in both tefillot are beautiful,
meaningful and evoke the ancient past to the dav'ner who understands
the words and is familiar with the references with which each phrase is
loaded. When I would chant these tefillot I felt that anyone who did not
have this background could not possibly find meaning in what 1 was
chanting. And pity the poor soul who must find the entire exercise
boring and meaningless as he reads those translations, which are
cemented not only to the literal meaning of the words, but to a ridicu-
lously archaic poetic meter and rhyme.

One further example:

A favorite R ush Hashanah text of mine is the Atah Zokher. I have
always loved it and always tried to chant it in as beautiful and as
evocative setting as I could. What thoughts did I have which I wanted
desperately to convey to my congregation through my musical interpre-
tation? Perhaps, something like this:

"Our world is full of secrets; everything mixed together. Each
atom, each object, each truth is held together with a genetic relationship
born of some mystical and unfathomable relevance. Ki haadam k'etz
hasadeh I remember vividly learning in some almost forgotten Hebrew
school class. So, Man and tree are related in this mysterious union.
And you thought ail along that Cynthia Ozick invented the idea of the
union between Man and tree, in one of her early short stories, "The
Pagan Rabbi."

And I think that the tree is as tragic a figure as is Man. Not only in
the Fall when trees begin to cry and the leaves die and fall, but even in
the Spring when, in full-blown greenness, the tree tries to raise herself
up to Heaven.

For whom does the tree bedeck herself? Whom does the tree
await? And what of the millions of births and deaths that click off each
minute on the cosmic clock? Who will solve their mystery?

We are no more than daily score-keepers. We count out the
minutes, hours and days, and somehow, our accounts never quite
balance. Is there a Some One who keeps the cosmic books and is able
to balance them?

The Atah Zokher reminds us that there is a Some One who
remembers and records all that has gone before. Something of us
indelibly inscribed in that eternal memory; even the with-

ered leaf running before the wind fleeing like a tiny mouse before the
prospect of being reduced to nothingness. Even the unseen beauty of a
sunset in a far-off untraveled forest is not entirely drowned in the night
because there is an Atah Zokher.

Heavy stuff? Maybe. But if I could, that is what I would have
liked to say to my people before I chanted the words; or what I would
have liked for them to consider while I sang. Maybe it would make a
difference, a spiritual impression and not merely a vocal one.

Or if we must have new, finger-snapping jump tunes, we do not
need to make icons out of those tunes that were generated through the
years at Ramah camps. If we are serious about the nature of the
evolving minhag America in liturgy, practice and music, let it not be
the free-wheeling tunes from Ramah which, especially in their early
years, were meant to attract youngsters to prayer in a summer camp
environment at any cost or in any way.

In what I am about to say, I mean no disrespect for our Chancellor.
Dr. Schorsch is a warm, outgoing, hard-working, respected scholar and
successful leader of our Movement, who, as you know, has been
exceedingly kind and receptive to our profession, to the Cantors
Assembly and to the concept of the value of encouraging congrega-
tional prayer. But in a good relationship there can be a peaceful
difference of opinion.

I think it was unfortunate that, with the best of intentions, in an
address which the Chancellor delivered some time ago, he seemed to be
moving toward canonizing Ramah tunes as the new minhag America.

My colleague, Hazzan Pinchas Spiro, who is the spirit and the
laborer behind our highly successful five volume series of musical
siddurim, known collectively as the "Baal Tefillah Institute Series,"
brought this talk to my attention.

"Paradoxically, constraint bred creativity. The fervor of commu-
nal worship at kanuih ohcrcti not onh individual lives but also
traditional practice. In time, Ramah gave rise to a distinct nusah, a
recognizable liturgical mode. Great religious centers in the past were
always distinguished by specific adaptations of the common forms f
prayer. The ability to generate such a nusah is tile sign of a praying
community. An individual may compose a siddur but only a community
can produce a nusah . . The diffusion of this Ramah nusah is tangible
evidence of the impact of Conservative Judaism on popular obser-

Spiro then adds:

"What we must deduce from this address is that Ramah has

distinguished itself, like other great religious centers in our history, by
altering the traditional practice and creating a new nusah! The logical
conclusion is that since we have this wonderful new nusah we no
longer need to follow the sacred musical nushaot which have been
passed on to us through countless generations. Perhaps, we should
replace the old melodies of Mi-Sinai tunes with the new melodies of
Mi-Ramah tunes."

I know that neither Pinchas Spiro nor I mean to demean the very
important and constructive work with Jewish youth that the Ramah
camps have made since their inception. It has indeed, as Dr. Schorsch
has indicated, altered the lives of many Jewish young people as we
know from personal experiences of many of our members.

The Cantors Assembly has likewise, in spite of its disagreement on
the question of synagogue nusah, gone out of its way to build bridges
between us and Ramah. We will be recognizing at this convention, a
generous annual gift by friends of the Cantors Assembly, Mr. and Mrs.
Erich Holzer, of Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey which provides
stipends to help students of the Cantors Institute who accept positions
as roshey tefillah at various Ramah camps; that is a beginning to the
road back to contact with our prayer traditions.

We can be certain that the Rabbinical Assembly and Dr. Schorsch
himself would not accept a Judaica curriculum at Ramah that was not
faithful to authentic Jewish sources. I am pleased to report that for the
past two years we have developed a warm relationship with Dr.
Sheldon Dorph, the National Director of Ramah Camps, who shares
our desire for authenticity in prayer as in other subjects, and who has
been working faithfully with us to remedy the problem.

Our concern now is not only for future campers, but for the failure
of many rabbis and congregations to understand and to uphold the stand
of their Hazzanim; to join with them in eradicating the inauthentic
nusah that has become "traditional" in so many congregations.

We are grateful that for the first time in my memory, we, rabbis
and hazzanim and lay people, are meeting together and talking to each
other about mutual needs and concerns in an atmosphere of collegiality;
our individual egos, for the moment laid aside and with concern for the
general good the first and only item on our agenda. For this alone, a
sheheheyanu is in place.

I am also able to report with pleasure that more than three quarters
of my colleagues who responded to my request and shared their honest
and deep feelings on the subject at hand, agreed that we were facing
many of the difficulties I have enumerated, but they were, as one,

much to make great
although his or her best
ke great Jews." And

; a belief in God.

the world, litaken

uniformly, but hopeful, and undismayed that as in the past, our loyalty
to our commitments as kley kodesh, will see us through the rough seas.

All of them, in one way or another, responded positively to my
questions about faith, belief and God. For the sake of time I will quote
only from two responses which faithfully represent the examples of
most of the others.

David Tilman, who is more than content with his calling and with
what he thinks he is achieving, says:

"The concept of God is central to everything we do. I have always
felt that Judaism and the Jewish people would be nothing more than the
rich collection of folk traditions without the central core of belief in one
omnipotent, omnipresent and omniscient Eternal God." He also adds
that most of the congregants whom he serves share that belief.

And finally, in another point, he reminds me that "We should
never lose sight that the ultimate goal of our profession is to make
better Jews .... The role of the Haz
music, or of the rabbi to deliver gi
efforts should be focused to that g(
making great Jews, in his opinion,
This is ultimately the basis of the Jewish n
olam b'malkhut Shaddai.

Robert Scherr puts it this way: "My faith in the Divine is devel-
oped, rather than hindered by my "professional relationship" with God.
I think, the moments of my personal awareness of being a role model
have helped develop my faith." He then adds a unique, mystical
thought which deserves to be remembered.

"I do not do a full law • vei I [ feel the most important
prayer I say is over "netilat yadayim." The orientation as to how I will
use my hands that day is a consciousness which I am able to recapture
during the course of the day. To be able to look at one's hands, as one
does with the tzitit in the "Sh 'mu " and to understand the Divine
connection, is thrilling and I am glad that this awareness that develops
over time is aided by my professional role."

The others I received are in a similar vein, but with their own
unique way of saying it; and I hope that they will share their ideas with
all of us during the discussion.

And what are the prospects for the future?

The future is a vast wilderness which we will need to traverse and
for which there is no road map. But if traverse it we must, God willing,
we can at least go armed. Judaism has a sacred literature, the insights
and wisdom of centuries; a set of mitzvot-action symbols which can

and must include the understanding and the will to deal with the raging
problems of homelessness, poverty, sexism, AIDs, single parenthood,
broken families, homosexuality, and now, terror.

But we must also continue to not let it decay. The mystical
dialogue between God and humankind, humankind as it is, and human-
kind as it yearns to be; and a culture of literature, philosophy, art, music
and folklore; varied, multi-hued, exotic, beautiful, ugly, complex and
simple, accumulated from every comer of the world. And we as Jews,
as a people who has lived intoxicated with a sense of history; a people
which has been shaped by history as much as it has helped to shape
history, must not throw it away for the sake of a popular notion of the

As for we kley kodesh, we will need to understand that we are not
"holy vessels," but ordinary people, who by virtue of our knowledge,
skill and dedication can bring sanctity and faith into that vast wilder-
ness of the future. We must preach less and teach more, remembering
that we do not live all our lives on a pulpit; we stand there for only a
few hours a week. We will need to remember that after our stint at the
pulpit - important as that is — we must come down from the pulpit
heights and join with our people below.

We Hazzanim must be more concerned with singing with people
than singing at people, for when we do the latter, we are preaching, not
teaching. When rabbis pontificate, they increase the distance between
themselves and their congregants. We must both lower our voices so
that we can hear more clearly what our people are thinking and saying,
so as better to appreciate and understand their needs, There is an
urgent need for warmth, caring; for honest, not synthetic, emotion, for
gentle leadership in prayer and in thought; for comfort and understand-
ing, and not so much for ringing pronouncements on high, nor of ersatz

Finally, we dare not lose faith. Our kedoshim, for the most part,
never lost faith under much more terrible circumstances.

I share that faith with the great Yiddish poet, Yaakov Glattshtayn.
In his poem, "Without Jews," he condemns God for permitting the
murder of the Six Million, and he pleads with Him:

"Don't you know that without Jews there will be no Jewish God?"

Who will dream You?
Who will remember You?

Who will yearn for You?

Who will come to You over a homesick bridge and leave You i i
order to return?

That last line is the telling one for me. I believe that this genera-
tion, and the next, and the next, through all time, like all the others that
came before, will at the last moment, accept its Jewishness with a
whole heart.

And will, as in the past, "come back over a homesick bridge and
leave again in order to return."

This is my hope, my faith.

They will come back, as indeed they must!

God willing, we will be ready to receive them. Amen.

A PROLEGOMENON TO THE STUDY OF THE PER-
FORMANCE PRACTICE OF SYNAGOGUE MUSIC
INVOLVING M'SHOR'RIM.

By Dr. Daniel S. Katz

Among the most intriguing aspects of historical Ashkenaz
chazzanut is the role of the m'shor'rim, singers who assisted the
chazzan in the execution of portions of the synagogue repertory.
Their presence is attested in eighteenth and nineteenth-century
manuscript sources both by a variety of Yiddish or German
markings such as bas or zinger, and by occasional chords or
extended passages for more than one voice. This repertory has
never been studied in depth, but Israel Adler's recent catalogue of
Hebrew music manuscripts includes in "two indices... a synoptic
view and some attempts of classification of the various elements
related to... the plurivocal performance practice of chazzan and
m'shor'rim. "1

This article is a revision of a portion of my M.S.M. thesis,
A Performing Edition of Issac Offenbach's Akdamut, with an
Introduction to the Manuscript Sources for Akdamut Music and an
Examination of the Use of the M'shor'rim Trio (The Jewish
Theological Seminary of America, 1994) pp. 41-71.

1 1srael Adler, Hebrew Notated Manuscript Sources up to
Circa 1840: a Descriptive and Thematic Catalogue with a Checklist
of Printed Sources, 2 vols., Repertoire International des Sources
Musicales, B IX' (Munich: G. Henle, 1989) vol. 1, p. Ixi. For the
indices, see vol. 2, pp. 799-807. See also review by Daniel Katz,
Studies in Bibliography and Book/ore 18 (1993), pp. 66-69. For
historical background, see Israel Adler, La pratique musicale
savante dans quelques communautes juives en europe aux XVII"
et XVIIP siecles, 2 vols., Etudes Juives 8 (Paris and The Hague:
Mouton, 1966) vol. 1, pp. 22-26.

Adler's two indices represent the starting point for this
preliminary study. The first (Index IV A) lists "chazzan and
m'shor'rim indications" that occur in the various manuscripts in the
catalogue. The second (Index IV B) assigns each individual piece
in every manuscript to one of three groups: "items for one voice
without h/m [i.e., chazzan and m'shor'rim] indications; . ..items for
one voice with h/m indications; [and] . ..items for two or more voices
with or without h/m indications.'" In the third category, it is
presumably unnecessary to distinguish between pieces with and
without h/m indications because the very presence of two or more
notated voices shows that the chazzan is not singing alone.

The majority of the terms used are Yiddish, German, or
Italian forms of "bass," "chorus," and "singer." They appear in a
plethora of Latin and Hebrew spellings.3 The nature of the "chorus"
is beyond the scope of this preliminary study.4 The bas is obviously
a low voice, and it is clear from the music that the zinger is a high
voice (e.g., Ex. V.2, m. 3-4). The resulting musical texture, then, is
a trio, with the chazzan in the middle, surrounded by the bas and
zinger. However, these voices tend to sing successively rather than

2 Adler, Hebrew Notated Manuscript Sources, vol. 2, p. 803.

3 See the "Alphabetical listing," Ibid., p. 801. I shall use the
forms bas, chazzan, m'shor'rim, and zinger, which Adler considers
standard, or "current." M'shor'rim (singular, m'shoreir) is a general
term encompassing all of the more specific terms for singers

e chazzan.

4 The one exception is in Mus. 72, where the term chor
means the congregation; see below, n. 11.

simultaneously. Adler carefully refers to a "plurivocal performance
practice," not a polyphonic one.'

Unfortunately, the distribution of h/m indications is sparse.
Sometimes there are only one or two indications in a piece. Even
when the beginning of a m'shor'rim passage is indicated, the ending
may not be, although it can often be deduced by musical or textual
considerations. Many other pieces have no m'shor'rim indications
at all. This article examines pieces that have h/m indications, and
catalogs the contexts in which the indications appear. In a few
cases, it also considers the use of m'shor'rim in passages without
h/m indications.

As a prolegomenon, this study is more exploratory than
definitive. Among the questions raised in the course of research,
but not necessarily answered, are these: Should all passages below
a certain pitch be sung by the bas? Can the zinger's part be
identified by a well-defined place in the upper register? When
parallel passages occur and h/m indications are given only in one
such passage, should they be supplied for the others as well?
Should sequences always be handled the same way? Can the
direction of the note-stems reliably suggest the divisions between
the different voices in one-part notation? Do the m'shor'rim ever
sing texted passages? Does the chazzan ever sing untexted
passages? What should be done about pieces that do not have any
h/m indications? Can pieces that do have them suggest how to treat
those that do not?

5 See above, n. 1 .

Finally, how should we sing the numerous pieces (the
majority of the repertory) that do not have an underlaid text?6 How
did the performers know the proper underlay when it was not
specified, especially in the many pieces in which long melismata
are prevalent? Did the text underlay matter? Were the singers free
to improvise their own underlay, and if so, what does this imply
about text-music relationships? Or rather, did the chazzan know the
music and underlay so well (was he usually the composer?) as to
need the notation only for reference while teaching the music to the
m'shor'rim? What indeed was the function of the music notation for
this repertory?

Table I lists the manuscripts consulted for this study. It
gives their library numbers, Adler's catalogue numbers (in
parentheses), the date and place of compilation, the number of
pieces in each manuscript, and (in parentheses) how many pieces
belong to each of the three categories in Adler's Index IV B.7 Library
names are excluded from Table I because all the manuscripts
except one are found in the same place, the Eduard Bimbaum
Collection at the Library of the Hebrew Union College-Jewish

6 Adler suggests that we now have enough texted
manuscripts "to be helpful, by analogy, in solving problems of text-
underlay in textless manuscripts" (Hebrew Notated Manuscript
Sources, vol. 1, p. xxxix). For the parallel use of analogy with
regard to h/m indications, see below, section C.3.

7 All the data in Table I are taken from Adler, Hebrew
Notated Manuscript Sources.

Institute of Religion in Cincinnati.' The remaining manuscript,
S.6336, is from the Itzik Offenbach Collection at the Library of the
Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion in New York.9

Table II lists all of the musical examples used in this paper.
The first part of Table II identifies each example and gives the exact
location where the example can be found in its manuscript. The
following information is included: the call number of the manuscript;
the number of the piece from which the example is taken (if Adler's
numbering of the pieces is different from that in the manuscript,
then the former is given first, followed by the latter: e.g.,
no. 10b1 1); the page or folio on which the example is found (if both

8 Birnbaum was cantor from 1879 to 1920 in Konigsberg,
East Prussia, now known as Kaliningrad, Russia. (Kaliningrad is the
main city in a small region of the same name that is not contiguous
with the rest of Russia, but located along the Baltic Sea between
Lithuania and Poland. It is not to be confused with another
Kaliningrad in the vicinity of Moscow.) For an overview of the vast
collection of manuscripts and other materials that Birnbaum
assembled and for biblography, see Ibid., vol. 1, pp. Ixiv-lxviii. See
also Edwin Seroussi, "Eduard Birnbaum-chayav umechkarav,"
Dukhan 11 (1988-1989), pp. 27-37.

9The S stands for "Sendrey," for the library numbers of all
the manuscripts in the Offenbach Collection were taken from Alfred
Sendrey, Bibliography of Jewish Music (New York: Columbia
University Press, 1951). Itzik, or Isaac, Offenbach (1779-1850) the
father of the composer Jacques Offenbach, was cantor in Cologne.
I am grateful to Neil Levin for informing me that a book about
Offenbach is forthcoming from Jacabo Kaufmann.

pagination and foliation exist, then both are given); the numbers of
the staves that the example occupies; measure numbers (these are
given only as necessary for clarity); the full liturgical description as
given in the manuscript (in Mus. 75, this may include the year or
place of composition); and the tempo marking. Finally, if the
example constitutes a complete piece, this is also indicated.

The second part of Table II identifies which examples are
taken from which manuscripts. For each manuscript, the pieces
used as examples are listed, and the relevant examples are named.

Table III outlines the characteristics and functions of the
m'shor'rim that can be observed in the musical examples in this
article. The following discussion follows the order of Table III.

1. Low range

As the name bas implies, this voice tends to operate within
a low range. The bas's range may be lower than or may overlap
with that of the chazzan. In Ex. V.1, the chazzan sings below G only
two or three times, depending on who sings the untexted phrase on
s. 3-4. In contrast, the bas's four-measure triadic interlude (s. I-2)
has G as its highest note. In Ex. VII. I-2, the distinction in range is
even clearer. The bas's highest note in Ex. VII. 1 is a fifth below the
chazzan's lowest note; Ex. VII.2 is similar.

Ex. III.3 features a repeated three-note rhythmical motive.
The chazzan hovers around high C and D. In m. 5, a statement of
the motive at a lower pitch is marked for the bas. By analogy, it is
possible that the low notes C,B,C in m. 3, although not marked,
should also be sung by the bas.

This example, incidentally, is reminiscent of the third
Brandenburg Concerto, which uses the same three-note rhythmical
motive with a similar alternation of higher and lower pitches. The
first movement opens with six statements of the motive on G, D,
and B by the three violins in unison (Ex. 1 1 1. 5). Later, Bach uses the
orchestral equivalent of m'shor'rim by passing the motive around
among different groups of instruments. In m. 9 (Ex. III. 6) the
motive, now in a triadic arrangement instead of in unison, is stated
in successively lower pitches by the violins, the violas, and the celli
in turn (cf. also m. 97-99 and 114-121).

2. Filler bas

a. Harmonic filler

Perhaps the most common function of the bas is to fill in a
few beats where there are rests in the melody between phrases.
This may be seen in Ex. 1.2, m. 4 and Ex. VII. I-2. In each case, the
principal singer (the chazzan) has two beats of rests, which are not
notated. Instead, a stepwise descent from the fifth degree of the
scale to the second occurs in the lower octave and is labelled as a

These passages function as dominant harmonies, which
resolve to the tonic at the beginning of the following measure.
However, the bas itself does not resolve. Rather, it drops out
suddenly just before the resolution, which occurs with the reentry
of the chazzan. In Ex. VII. 2, the resolution takes place an octave
higher than expected. In Ex. 1.2 and VII. I, the resolution again is
higher than expected, but is made by irradical (i.e., non-root) tones
of the tonic triad— the fifth and the tenth, respectively.

Although the return of the chazzan is not explicitly
indicated, it is suggested by the reappearance of the melodic line,
often in the upper register (Ex. VII. 1-3). The function of the bas as
a filler between two melodic statements is particularly clear when
the reappearance of the melody constitutes a motivic repetition
(Ex. VII.2-3).

In Ex: 1.2, m. 4 and Ex. VII. I-2 and 4, the music is notated
as if it involved only one voice. If the bas part were not marked,
someone familiar with the style could still identify it from its form and
from the musical context. Someone else, however, might never
know that the music is for two voices. On the other hand, Ex. VII. 3
places rests in the upper voice when the bas is singing. In this
case, it is clear that two voices are involved, even if they are not
singing simultaneously.

In Ex. VII.3-4, the filler bas varies slightly from the initial
pattern of a stepwise descent from 5 to 2. Example VII.3 replaces
2 with 5 to form an arpeggiation figure, and Ex. VII.4 encompasses
a seven-note run. In Ex. VII.4, the word bas seems to have been
carefully placed in the manuscript so that the bas does not enter
until the second note of the measure, allowing the chazzan to
resolve his line first.

Our last example of the harmonic filler bas comes from an
unusual source, Mus. 72, the "musical companion to the
Synagogenorchung" of a Danish congregation." This is the only

10 Adler, Hebrew Notated Manuscript Sources, vol. 1,
p. 323; the importance of this source may lie not only in the survival
of interdependent musical and verbal liturgical guides from this

manuscript in Adler's catalogue that uses the term chor to mean the
congregation." Most of the pieces in Mus. 72 are to be sung
responsively by the cantor and congregation.

Ex. VI 1. 5 is such a piece. The transition from the end of the
chazzan's first line to the chor's entrance is bridged by an
unlabelled passage resembling the filler bas in Ex. VII. 1-2. The
stepwise descent from the fifth scale degree to the second outlines
a dominant harmony, lasts for two beats, and resolves with the
entrance of the char on the downbeat. This passage differs in two
respects from other filler bas passages. It is significant
harmonically, for it changes the harmony from A minor to G7 in
preparation for the chor's entrance in C, and it connects the
preceding melody to the following one diatonically. The absence of
the usual registral shift (cf. Ex. VII. 1-3) does not, however, suggest
that the filler should be sung by the chazzan, for in a similar context
in Ex. VII.4, the filler is labelled for the bas. In Ex. VII.5, the filler's
role in modulating to the, relative major facilitates the entrance of the
non-professional singers of the chor.

Perhaps one is tempted to ask: shouldn't the bas resolve
along with the chazzan in these examples? Since certain aspects
of the performance practice of any repertory may not be apparent

community, but also in the community's possible influence on
Salomon Sulzer (p. 324).

11 For the identification of chor with the congregation ("die
ganze Gemeinde"), see Ibid., p. 324; for other occurrences of chor
or similar terms, see vol. 2, p. 801.

from the notation, 12 might there have been an unwritten convention
according to which the bas resolved its filler passages as the
chazzan was beginning the next phrase of the melody? If so, the
bas in Ex. VII.2 would sing a low G together with the chazzan's G.
Especially in examples that resolve on irradical tones (e.g.,
Ex. VII. 1) such a practice would add harmonic support to the
resolution and remove some of the abruptness of the sudden
change in register. However, the manuscripts in this study do not
indicate that this was done. Even in examples notated in two parts,
such as Ex. VII.3, the bas drops out as the chazzan enters.

b. Temporal filler

The temporal filler is similar to the harmonic filler. Both fill
the space of a small number of beats between phrases. In most
cases, neither is harmonically essential, since both tend to sustain
the harmony that is sounding at the time of their entrance; yet they
are harmonically distinct. The harmonic filler enters on a dominant
harmony and requires a resolution, which is made by the chazzan
(by the chor in Ex. VII.5). The temporal filler, by contrast, has no
harmonic expectations. It is static. It enters on a tonic harmony and
is not necessarily connected musically to what follows. The
arpeggios in Ex. 1.4, s. 6, m. 3 and Ex. IV.I, m. 4, 8 are temporal
fillers. In Ex 1.4, the bas supplies a rhythmic movement through the
chazzan's cadence and rests, thereby linking the preceding and
following phrases. In Ex. IV.I, the bas lengthens the moment of
repose on A (the A is tonicized, although it is not the tonic of the
piece; D does not function as a tonic until the cadence before the
Allegro).

12 Cf. Ibid., vol. 1, pp. xxxvi-xxxvii.

Both the harmonic and the temporal filler bas introduce a
change of timbre, and are often accompanied by an abrupt change
of register. The latter feature is seen most clearly in Ex. VII. 1-2; at
the other extreme, the resolution in Ex. VII.4-5 is stepwise. Like the
lower pedal point (see below, section A.3) the filler bas can be
omitted without causing any overt harm to the music. It is
ornamental, but not essential. In Ex. 1.2; IV. I, s. 8; and VII. 1-3, the
melody could continue undisturbed if the bas were absent. Perhaps
this characteristic is useful for practical reasons, in case a singer is
not available. Even in Ex. VII.4, where the bas effects a smoother
transition to the Da Capo, and Ex. VII.5, where the bas modulates
to the relative major to assist the entrance of the chor, it can be
omitted without structural detriment to the music.

The one-measure bas passage in Ex. 111.1 (s. 7, m. 3) is a
hybrid. Like the harmonic filler, it functions as a dominant (although
this harmony is not already sounding), but like the temporal bas, it
does not need a resolution. Rather, the following phrase uses it as
the point of departure. The repeated sixteenth-notes are suggestive
of the rythmic bas (see below, section A.4). The bas in Ex. VI. 7
(marked by descending note-stems underneath the rests on s. 8, m.
5 and s. 9, m. 1) is similar to that of Ex. III.1. Additionally, it serves
as a pivot between the relative keys of D minor and F major.
Perhaps further research will suggest a more appropriate
classification for these examples.

3. Lower pedal point

The third use of the bas is to provide a drone or pedal point
to accompany the main voice. This can be seen only when two
simultaneously-sounding parts are notated. When the pedal point
occurs beneath the chazzan, it is obviously to be assigned to the
bas, even if this is not indicated. Example VI. 1 shows a lower pedal

point on the dominant underneath a rapidly moving passage. When
the chazzan resolves to the tonic at the end of the phrase, the bas
does not follow, but suddenly drops out, just as the filler bas does.
In this example, the bas's abrupt departure is clearly indicated by
a quarter-rest; with two-part notation, we cannot speculate about
the possibility of the bas's resolving.

4. Rhythmic passages

Certain bas solos are characterized by a prominent rhythmical
motive. Although the bas sets the tonality in the introduction to
Ex. 111.1, it is stronger rhythmically than melodically. Similarly, the
drive behind the opening of the Allegro in Ex. IV.1 (p. 17, s. 1-2) is
derived from the repetition of the rhythmical motive of an
eighth-note and two sixteenth-notes. Repeated notes play a
rhythmic role in both these examples, as they do in the bas
passages in Ex. VIII. 1 and IX. 1.

5. Extended bas passages

One manuscript in this study, Mus. 75, is characterized by
extended bas passages. This is an autograph by Hirsch Weintraub,
and consists almost entirely of his own compositions. 13 Weintraub's
bas operates in a high and wide range in passages that are often
longer than those which we have seen so far, and that can be

13 Ibid., p. 330; two of the three pieces not by Hirsch are by
his father, Solomon. Solomon Weintraub (1781-1821) was cantor
in Dubno (Ukraine). Hirsch (1813-1881) briefly succeeded his father
in Dubno (where he composed Ex. IX. 2-3 and, based on the dates
of composition, probably Ex. IX.1 and X.1 also). He was cantor in
Konigsberg before Bimbaum.

virtuosic as well. In Ex. IX.3, the bas part is labelled, and the
beginning and end of the passage are indicated with signs
resembling quotation marks. The bas and the chazzan both
participate in a series of rapid descents in eigth-notes,
sixteenth-notes, and sixteenth-note triplets. The two parts have the
same range, and are so similar that variation in timbre may be the
main reason (aside from giving the chazzan a short rest) for
introducing the bas here. However, the chazzan's line is freer and
more varied rhythmically, whereas the bas maintains a steady
succession of sixteenth-note triplets. The bas in Ex. IX.3, unlike a
filler bas, cannot be omitted without significantly altering the nature
of the music.

In Ex. X.1, Weintraub's bas intrudes well into the zinger's
territory, rising to a high B-flat above the staff (s. 9). Even at these
heights, a distinction in range is made between the main voice and
the secondary bas. The latter maintains the respectful distance of
a fifth below the chazzan, who sings in an extraordinarily high
register as well, reaching an F above the staff (s. 1 1).14

Example X. 1 also illustrates the common problem of having
to deduce where a m'shor'rim passage ends. This example
contains two bas passages, and the end of the first is not marked.
The second passage ends with a whole-note (p. 6, m. 3); it serves
to reinforce the tonality of F and provide a break in the surrounding
florid texture of the piece. By contrast, it is not apparent where the
first bas passage is meant to end. Perhaps it ends on s. 10 either
after the whole-note or at one of the quarter-rests. The chazzan
almost certainly takes over from the bas by the second rest, since

14 This is unusually high even if the music, notated in the
treble clef, is read an octave lower by male singers.

presumably he is more likely than the bas to sing such an
ornate line with a high F (s. 11). However, even if this passage
ends as early as the first rest on s. 10, the bas cannot avoid an
uncharacteristically high range.

6. Textual echo

In Ex. IX. 2, an excerpt from Weintraub's Anim z'mirot, the
bas appears twice for the duration of two beats. At the beginning of
the example, the chazzan sings the word asaprah before the first
bas entrance. The first two syllables, a and sap, are placed over the
first and third beats of the measure, respectively. On the fourth
beat, however, where one would expect the final syllable, the entire
word appears. The complete underlay is thus a-sap-asaprah.

This cannot be interpreted literally as the desired underlay.
If we accept the clearly marked placement of sap over the third
beat, there are not enough notes left before the bas entrance to
accomodate a repetition of the first two syllables. The only way to
fit in a-sap-asaprah is to move sap back from the third beat
to the preceding sixteenth-note (Ex. X.2.A). The result is not only
nonsensical and contrary to the notated underlay of the manuscript,
but may be stylistically inappropriate as well. None of the other
texted examples in this study (Ex. 1.1, IV.1-2, V.I, VII.5, VIII. I, and
IX. 1, 3) includes syllablic repetition within a word.

Can the additional writing out of asaprah be meant to
remind the chazzan what word he should be singing? This is not
plausible, for we have seen no other such reminders, even in long
melismata. (On the contrary, the mansucripts favor the opposite
extreme-they tend to be untexted rather than overtexted.) In this
instance a reminder should not be necessary, for the entire word is
sung within the space of a single measure.

Can this be a mistake? What if Weintraub had been
repeating the text to himself as he was copying the manuscript? At
this point, he would have been saying, "asaprah, asaprah,
asaprah," and could understandably have written out the full word
in an unconscious fourth-beat fit of scribal absent-mindedness.

However such a mistake would have been easy to correct.
A better interpretation would explain the notation without requiring
the scribe to be in error. The word asaprah occurs on the downbeat
of s. 3, m. 2 (the first measure shown in Ex. IX.2) immediately
before the first entrance of the bas. Although the end of the bas
passage is not marked, it can be deduced. The resumption of the
text underlay over the last note in m. 3 suggests the return of the
chazzan (this is confirmed by the presence of a new bas indication
in m. 4; if the bas were still singing, the indication would be
unnecessary). Also, the opening phrase of the example is repeated
sequentially a step higher beginning at m. 3, beat 3. It would seem
logical not to separate the first note of a phrase by putting it in a
different voice from the remainder of the phrase. Since the chazzan
sings the rest of the phrase, perhaps he should sing the first note
as well. 15

15 In Ex. IV. 1, on the other hand, the sequential repetition
of the opening phrase is split between the untexted zinger and a
texted voice, presumbaly the chazzan (possibly still the zingel?).
However, this line is divided into two sub-phrases of about a
measure and a half each; no individual note is isolated.
Furthermore, the beginning of the repetition is distinct in Ex. IV. 1,
since it coincides with the entrance of the zinger, but would not be
set apart in Ex. IX.2 if the first note were joined to the preceding bas
passage.

Thus the chazzan enters again in the second measure of
the example (s. 3, m. 3, beat 3) and the bas sings only the first two
beats of this measure. These two beats have three notes, and the
word asaprah has three syllables. Weintraub wrote asaprah a
second time to show that the bas repeats this word after the
chazzan (Ex. X.2.B). The text for the chazzan is divided syllabically,
like the text in Ex. IV.I, V.I, and VII.5 The text for the bas, like the
text in Ex. 1.1, IV.2, VIM. I, and IX.1 and 3, is not. The bas's word
asaprah is squeezed in between the chazzan's text and the bas
indication. For lack of space, the two writings of asaprah share the
final syllable rah.

The textual echo is easier to identify when it recurs in the
following measure. At s. 3, m. 4, the bas's text is written directly
over the bas indication. Once again, the chazzan's text is divided
syllabically and the bask is not; the bas must apportion the four
notes among the three syllables. Similarly (to return to the
preceding measure), if the chazzan reenters on S. 3, m. 3, beat 3,
there are different possibilities for his underlay as well. These are
shown in Ex. X.3.A-C. In Ex. X.3.A, the notated underlay of the
manuscript is preserved, and the double-dotted B is sung to an
extraneous nonsense syllable, ah. So far, no manuscripts or
musical examples have suggested such a practice. In Ex. X.3.B,
the first syllable of text is moved forwards to coincide with the first
note. The elongation of the schwa, although objectionable in the
sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries,16 may not have been
problematic for Weintraub. Indeed, since the division of k'vod'kha
into three syllables conforms to Weintraub's practice of

16 I give an example in the commentary to Sentence 2 in
"The 'Eighth Way' in the Masseh Efod of Profiat Duran: A
Translation and Commentary" (not yet published).

distinguishing the sh'va nach from the sh'va na, this underlay may
be historically the most appropriate. 17 It also conforms to the
underlay in the manuscript better than that of Ex. X.3.C which
relegates the schwa to the grace-note and brings the next syllable
forwards by two beats.

B. The zinger

1. High range

Just as the bas is characterized by a range that descends
lower than the chazzan's, likewise the zinger's range is relatively
high. Thus in Ex. 111.3, where a motivic statement on a lower pitch
is assigned to the bas, a higher passage is marked for the zinger.
In Ex. V.2, the repetition of the chazzan's opening motive in m. 3-4
features a high A and ends on B; it is designated for the zinger. It
would be logical to use the zinger also in m. 7-8, and perhaps again
for the phrase beginning with the pick-up to s. 8, m. 2. Example VI. 7

'' "Mit moglichster Muhe habe ich versucht, den Text
richtig nach der hebraischen Grammatik zu ordnen, namentlich
habe ich das milra und mile/, den dogosch chosok und sch'wo nach
und na beobachtet." ("I have made the greatest effort to set the text
correctly according to Hebrew grammar. In particular, I have
observed milra and mile/, the dagesh chazaq, and sh'va nach and
na.") H. Weintraub, Schire Beth Adonai Oder Tempelgesange fur
den Gottesdienst der Israelites 3 parts (1859) 2nd ed. (Leipzig:
M.W. Kaufmann, 1901) part 1, p. [2], reprinted in Out of Print
Classics of Synagogue Music, vol. 20 [=part 2!] (New York: Sacred
Music Press, [1955]). Weintraub does not discuss his principles for
setting a sh'va na; an investigation of how his practice relates to the
opinion cited in n. 16, above, is beyond the scope of this article.

gives the zinger an eight-measure solo that reaches high C (s. 7,
m. 4 to s. 8, m. 3).

2. Upper pedal point

The zinger's upper pedal point is analogous to the bas's
lower pedal. Short upper pedals are found in Ex. VI.4-5. In Ex. VI.5,
the pedal is presented simply in whole notes; in Ex. VI.4, a rhythmic
impulse is added through syncopation. Examples 111.2 and 111.4
show more extended upper pedals.

3. Filler zinger

Example 1.2 has a two fillers. The first is marked for the
bas. When the second appears a few measures later, the notation
is in two parts with the filler on top, suggesting the use of the zinger.

4. Solo sections in trios

Adler notes twenty occurrences of the term trio as a section
heading in the manuscripts in his catalogue.18 Like the trios that
typically occur in minuet and scherzo movements in the classical
music of this period, these trios regularly appear as the second
section of a pair. About half of the trios are in 3/4 time, paired with

18 Adler, Hebrew Notated Manuscript Sources, vol. 2,
p. 844. Mus. 46a (067) no. 192-193 and 228 and Mus. Add. 5
(143) no. 2 should be added to the list (cf. vol. 1, pp. 225, 228,
420). The zinger solo in Ex. VI. 7 approaches the scope of a short
trio (cf. Ex. VIII. 3) but it is not marked as a trio or paired with
another movement.

polonaises or similar movements. The others are paired with rondos
in 2/4 time or marches in common time (see Table IV).

The manuscripts in this study contain four trios designated
as solos for the zinger: Mus. 46a, no. 192-193 and 228 and Mus.
Add. 5, no. 2. Two of these trios are included here as examples. In
Ex. VIII.3 (Mus. Add. 5, no. 2) which spends more time in 6/8 than
in the given meter, 3/4, the zingertwice soars to high C in a short
trio section in the sub-dominant (s. 7, m. 3 through s. 8, m. 1).
Example 11.1 reproduces Mus. 46a, no. 192 in its entirety. Here, too,
the zinger's solo, in the parallel key of G major, rises to high C
(s. 10, m. I, 4). Surprisingly, the chazzan follows not only to C, but
even to D and E in an additional section marked chazzan b'qol,
which Adler interprets as "forte." 19

Example 11.1, marked "Tempo di Ungra," is curiously similar to
another "Hungarian" movement in the same meter and key, the
finale of Haydn's Piano Trio in G, Hoboken XV:25, which is a
"Rondo, in the Gipsies' style."20 Three excerpts from this movement
are given in Ex. II. 2-4. Example II.2 bears a slight resemblance to
the opening of Ex. 11.1; both feature the fifth scale degree and a run
descending from the sixth. However, the first two measures of
Ex. 1 1 .3 and 11.1 are nearly identical. Similarly, the rhythm and
melodic contour of the zinger's solo in the parallel major in Ex. 11.1
(s. 8, m. 4 to s. 9, m. 6) follow closely those of the violin in Ex. 11.4.

19 Ibid., vol. I, p. 225.

20 For the title of the movement, see Joseph Haydn, I/Me,
ser. 17, vol. 3, ed. Irmgard Becker-Glauch (Munich: G. Henle,
1986), p. 161; cf. p. 359.

Since the writing of Mus. 46a had at least been begun by 1809,21
the year of Haydn's death, and since the trio in question was a
well-known work by an extremely popular composer, is it possible
that the resemblance is more than coincidental?

C. Practices pertaining to both basand zinger

1. Coordination of m'shor'rim with the musical phrasing

Sometimes the beginning of a section designated for
m'shor'rim coincides with the beginning of a musical phrase. In
Ex. 111.1, the first musical phrase is sung by the bas, the second by
the chazzan, and the third, delayed by a one-measure filler bas, by
the zinger. Similarly, in the paired trio movements discussed above
(Ex. 11.1 and VIII.3) the zinger's solo coincides with the beginning
of the trio. Unfortunately, since m'shor'rim frequently appear only
sporadically, and often in the middle of phrases, coordination with
the musical phrasing can be recognized only when it is marked in
the manuscripts. It cannot be deduced unless a clear pattern is
established in a piece. This happens in Ex. 1.1, where the
designations m'shor'rim and chazzan occur at the beginnings of
new phrases (s. 2, m. 5 and s. 3, m. 2). Example 1.1 is the only
texted item in Mus. 15, but the underlay seems to be precise,
alligning the beginning of a word with its last note.** This is the only
musical example in this study that uses the term m'shor'rim. The
range may indicate a zinger. On the other hand, the m'shor'rim's
music is a variant of the chazzan's; perhaps this suggests

Adler, Hebrew Notated Manuscript Sources, vol. 1,
p, 208,

22 Cf. Ibid., pp. Iviii-lix.

responsive singing, with the choir or congregation repeating the text
that the chazzan has just sung (the term m'shor'rim, after all, is
plural).

2. Designation of the chazzan through text underlay

Most of the pieces in this study were notated without text
underlay. However, in some pieces (e.g., Ex. 1.1) sections
designated for the chdzzan are texted and those for the m'shor'rim
are untexted. Although it is clear from the chorindication in Ex. VII.5
and the textual echo in Ex. IX.2 that the m'shor'rim do sometimes
sing texted passages, it is not yet clear how often this happens. The
dichotomy between texted and untexted passages may be useful
for assigning parts in a piece without h/m indications. However,
since text underlay is lacking in so many sources, its use as a
criterion for designating m'shor'rim is limited.

3. Deducing the use of m'shor'rim by analogy

This is a speculative category. The deductions discussed here
should be considered hypothetical, although they do represent valid
choices for performance. If the use of m'shor'rim is marked in a
passage, and the identical passage or a similar one recurs without
h/m indications, perhaps we may apply the indications from the first
passage to the second. This procedure is tentative, for although
repetition is fundamental as a structural component of music,
variety is also a consideration. To make assumptions about a piece
based on mechanical repetitions is risky.

Two examples illustrate the range of situations that can
appear in this category. First, the two-voice passage in Ex. IV.2 is
repeated (Ex. IV.2 does not show the repetition). In Offenbach's
autograph manuscript, the repetition is written out, but only the

upper part is notated. Did Offenbach mean for the two-voice
passage to be repeated by only one voice (the reverse-an initial
solo statement recurring as a duet-would be more usual)? Was he
being careless and forgetful? Or did he expect the lower singer to
supply the unwritten part, either from memory or from the notation
of the original passage (the repetition follows the original
immediately on the same page). The last possibility seems most
likely, especially since the note-stems remain ascending in the
repetition, helping to maintain the identity of the notated part as an
upper voice.

Second, Ex. 111.1 has a zingersolo beginning at s. 7, m. 4.
Before the zinger enters, the bas sings for one measure. This
measure recurs halfway through the zinger's solo (s. 7, m. 7) but
is not marked for the bas. Here the analogy is perhaps less certain.
Although the measure in question is identical to the earlier bas
passage, it can also be seen as flowing out of the zinger's descent
to F.

Analogy has already been used several times in this study.
For example, the unmarked low notes in Ex. 111.3, m. 3 may be
given to the bas by analogy with m. 5 (see above, section A.I).
Likewise, the unlablled high passages in Ex. V.2 may be sung by
the zinger (see above, section B.I). The analogy need not always
be to a passage in the same piece: in Ex. VII. 5, the filler bas is
identified by comparison to Ex. VII. I-2 (see above, section A.2.a).

Here are two examples of how analogy can be combined
with the dichotomy of texted and untexted passages to deduce
tentative m'shor'rim assignments. In Ex. IV.I, three of the five
untexted passages are marked either for zinger (m. 5-6) or for bas
(m. 8 and from p. 17, s. 1, m. 4 to s. 2, m. 1). By analogy, the two
other unmarked passages may also be assigned: m. 4 to the bas,

since it is identical to m. 8, and s. 9, m. 2-3 to the linger, since its
range corresponds to that of the marked zinger's passage in m. 5-6.
Since the latter passage also falls within the range of the chazzan,
its assignement to the zinger is more tentative than that of m. 4 to
the bas.

In Ex. V.I, only one untexted passage is assigned (s. 5,
m. 3) but the opening passage is similar in form and function to the
bas solo at the beginning of Ex. 111.1. Since the passage in Ex. V. 1
is slightly higher in range, perhaps it can be assigned to the zinger,
together with the analogous section after the word Yisrael (s. 3-4)
and two shorter passages on s. 3, m. 1 ,3.

D. The use of m'shor'rim with two or more voices sounding
simultaneously

This category deals exclusively with pieces found in
column c in Adler's Index IV b: "items for two or more voices with or
without h/m indications." Two situations that fall under this category
have already been dealt with in the preceding discussions of the
bas and the zinger, and will be omitted here. These are the filler
bas, when notated with rests, and the lower and upper pedal points.

1. Chords

Chords occur with two, three, or four voices. Sometimes
chords occur throughout a passage, but it is not uncommon for an
entire piece to have only one or two chords. In Ex. 1.3 and its
variant, Ex. 1.4, there is a single two-note chord, introduced by a
grace-note. Grace-notes are a common feature; Ex. III.2 opens with
a three-note chord, each note of which is preceded by a grace-note.
The octave at the end of Ex. V.2, the only chord in the piece,
reflects the prior alternation of chazzan and zinger; after singing

successively, the two voices come together at the end of the
example. An octave appears also in Ex. VI.2-3. For variation, the
upper note in Ex. VI.2 is articulated as four quarter-notes instead of
a whole-note.

Some pieces have a series of chords. Two two-note chords
followed by a three-note chord strengthen the cadence before the
Da Capo in Ex. VI.5. The beginning of Ex. VI. 7 has a series of
two-note chords that outline an arpeggio.

2. Pseudo-counterpoint

Occasionally a trace of two-part conterpoint, such as the
brief hockets in Ex. VI.6, appears in a m'shor'rim pssage. Although
the second voice is not truly independent, it can move more freely
than the filler bas or pedal point. A duet in Isaac Offenbach's setting
of Akdamut consists mostly of parallel thirds, but includes small
amounts of oblique and contrary motion and syncopation
(Ex. IV.2J.23

23 This is an extraordinary piece. Divided into eight
movements and lasting over ten minutes in performance, it consists
of a complete setting of all the verses of Akdamut that are
traditionally sung by the chazzan. The excerpt in Ex. IV.2 is notable,
for none of the other two-voice passages in this 228-measure piece
lasts more than two measures, and most last only two beats. For an
edition of the entire piece, including editorial suggestions
for possible h/m assignments, see Katz, A Performing Edition,
pp.72-83; for a discussion of the piece, see pp.1 5-33.

Example VIII.2 shows a more extensive two-part passage.
Instead of the close texture of Ex. IV.2 and VI. 6, the counterpoint
here involves a melody and an accompaniment that are sometimes
separated by as much as two octaves. The bas maintains an
harmonic function over the course of eleven measures-a lengthy
passage for this repertory. The arpeggios (s. 9, m. 6 and s. 10,
m. 2) are not static like those of the temporal filler (see above,
section A.2.b) but form an integral part of the interplay between the
voices. This example has no written h/m indications. The upper
voice may be sung by the linger or the chazzan; the lower voice by
the chazzan or the bas. There may even be a switch from chazzan
or zingerwith bas to zingerwith chazzan where the arpeggios begin
(s. 9, m. 6). However, if the prinicpal line is to be sung by the
chazzan and the secondary part by the m'shor'rim, then the entire
duet is probably for chazzan and bas.

Conclusion

This study represents a first impression of the m'shor'rim
repertory. The examples are mostly excerpts rather than complete
settings, and are taken from only eight manuscripts out of a large
corpus. They suffice, however, to suggest patterns of usage and
categories of classification, as shown in Table III. This outline will
doubtless be refined as more pieces become known during the
course of further research;24 meanwhile, it serves to reacquaint us
with a forgotten repertory of sacred music.

24 Adler points in particular to the availability of sources for
the study of text underlay, Hebrew pronunciation, and "scores with
more or less written out parts" (Hebrew Notated Manuscript
Sources, vol. 1, pp. xxxix-xl).

Finally, it seems strange that the period of the eighteenth
and early nineteenth centuries, which is the mainstay of our
programming of classical music, is so overlooked and unknown in
the synagogue. Accordingly, I should like to encourage the
introduction of some of these pieces into our active liturgical
repertory. Although certain examples may look more like violin
cadenzas than vocal music (e.g., Ex. X.1) others are shorter and
not especially difficult. The sparse use of m'shor'rim may be
convenient for including congregants (whether adults or children)
with a minimum of rehearsal time. I hope to present in a future issue
of this journal a small selection of pieces appropriate for use in
contemporary services.

TABLE I
Manuscript Sources

Mus. 15(041) 1809-1854, Amsterdam, 79 (56a/1 Ob/1 3c)

Mus. 19e (052) first half of the nineteenth century, Amsterdam?,

19 (9a/7b/3c)

Mus. 19f (053) first half of the nineteenth century, Amsterdam?,

1 4 (3a/5b/6c)

Mus. 46a (067) ca. 1809?, Germany, 245a (203a/11 b/31c)

Mus. 72 (075) 1825, Aarhuus, Denmark, 35 b (12a/19b/4c)

Mus. 75 (076), ca.1821-1836, Ukraine, Austria, and Poland,
35 (23a/6b/6c)

Mus. Add. 5 (143) ca. 1813, Germany, 1 30 c (67a/26b/37c)

S.6336 (1 53) first half of the nineteenth century, probably Cologne,

2(1 a/0b/1 c)

a. Index IV B records only 242 entries for Mus. 46a. It does not distinguish
between 53A and B, and excludes 96A and 194A. The additional three
pieces all belong to column a.

b. The pieces are numbered l-V, l-l 1.12A-B, and 13-29. Index IV B lists

no. I both in column a and column b; it belongs in column a.

c. Index IV B records only 125 items, omitting nos. 8A, 1 IA, 78A, and 92A,
which belong in column a, and no. 51 A, which belongs in column b.

Musical Examples

1.1 Mus. 15, no. 20, pi 1 , s. 1-3, Sim shalom, Moderatto

1.2 Mus. 15, no. 25, 0.6, s. 9-10 (Da Capo, s. 6) Rosh chodesh
benshin v'gam qaddish al hasefer, Allegretto (sic: All°"°)

1.3 Mus. 15, no. 36, |24, s. 5-6, L'yamim nora'im qaddish leil
Shabbat qodesh v'gam m'varkhin hachodesh, Allegretto

1.4 Mus. 15, no. 74, [54, s. 5-6, L'yamim nora'im qaddish leil
Shabbat qodesh, Rosh chodesh benshin, Allegro

11.1 Mus. 46a, no. 192, p. 134, s. 5-10 through p. 135, s. 1-2,

Andante, Tempo di Ungra (complete piece)
. II.24 Joseph Haydn, Piano Trio in G, Hob. XV:25, Finale, Rondo in
the Gipsies' Style, Presto

11. 2 piano, right hand, m. 67-71

11. 3 violin, m. 133-137

11.4 violin, m. 35-42

.111.1 Mus. 19e, no. 10b/11, f. 5b, s. 6-7, Hayom t'amtzeinu,

Allegretto
. III.2 Mus. 19f, no. 9/10, f. 8a, s. 1 and 4-5, Andante
. III.3 Mus. 19f, no. 12b/13, f. 1 la, s. 5, Poilish qadd[i]sh mileil

Shabbat qodesh, Allegretto
. III.4 Mus. 19e, no. 9b/10, f. 4a, s. 3, Hayom t'amtzeinu, Allegretto
. III. 5-6 Johann Sebastian Bach, Brandenburg Concerto No. 3,

BWV 1 048, first movement

111. 5 violins 1-3, m. I-2

111.6 m. 9

IV.1 Mus. Add. 5, no. 22, p. 16 (f. 9b), s. 8-9 through p. 17
(f. 10a), s. 1-2, M'khalkeil chayim, Adagio (complete piece)

IV.2 S.6336, no. 1, f. [la], s. 3, m . 5 through s. 6, m. 2 (=m. 16-29
of the piece), Akdamut, Andante (first movement)

TABLE II, continued

Musical Examples

Ex. V.1 Mus. Add. 5, no. 3, p. 1 (f. 1 b), s. 9 through p. 2 (f. 2b), s. I-5,

El hahodaot shel Pesach (including qaddish and barkhu),

Marsch (complete piece)
Ex. V.2 Mus. Add. 5, no. 8a, p. 5 (f. 4a), s. 7-8, Tromperstucke, drittes
Teil]

Ex. VI. 1 Mus. 15, no. 62/61, p.47, s. 7-8, s'liq qaddish leil Shabbat

qodesh Rosh chodesh benshin, Andantine [sic]
Ex. VI. 2-3 Mus. 15, no. 12, p. 6, L'ochez b'yad v'gam qaddish leil
Shabbat qodesh, Moderatto
VI.2 s. 6-7
VI.3 s. 9-10
Ex. VI .4-5 Mus. 19f, no. 6/7, f. 6a, Malkhut'kha, Allegro
VI.4 s. 1
VI.5 s. 7
Ex. VI. 6-7 Mus. 15, no. 52,p.42, L'yamim nora'im s'liq qaddish leil
Shabbat qodesh, Allegretto (sic: AW"°)
VI.6 s. 3-4
VI.7 s. 6-9

Ex. VII. 1 Mus. 19e, no. 13/14, f. 6b, s. 2, Hayom harat olam, Andantino
Ex. VII.2 Mus. 19e, no. 1 1/12, f. 5a, s. 5, Yaaleh o hayom t'amtzeinu,

Andante
Ex. VII.3 Mus. 19e, no. 15/16, f. 7b, s. 3, M'khalkeil chayim, Andante
Ex. VII.4 Mus. 19f, no. 7/8, f. 6b, s. 6 (Da Capo, s. I), Qaddish I'Fesach,

Allegretto
Ex. VII.5 Mus. 72, no. 21, p. 11, s. 9-I 0, Hymne, Aschre ho'om, J=56

TABLE II, continued

Musical Examples

Ex. VIII.1 Mus. 75, no. 6, p. 9, s. 7-8, Lo amut

Ex. VIII.2 Mus. 75, no. 18c, p. 34, s. 7, m. 5 through s. 10, m. 2,

Tikkanta Shabbat l'596
Ex. VIII.3 Mus. Add. 5, no. 2, p. 1 (f. lb), s. 5-8, Yigdal (complete

Ex. IX. 1 Mus. 75, no. 7b, p. 1 1 , s. 1 , m. 2 through s. 3, m. 2, Lo amut

hanaasheh al chag haPesach shanat 592 lifrat qatan
Ex. IX.2 Mus. 75, no. 9, p. 16, s. 3. m. 2 through s. 4, Anim z'mirot

mishanat 591 lifrat qatan Dubno rabati
Ex. IX.3 Mus. 75, no. 11, p. 18, s. 6, m. 5 through s. 9, m. 2. Dark'kha
chadash al shanat 593 lifrat qatan Dubno

Ex. X.1 Mus. 75, no. 5, p. 5, s. 8, m. 7 through s. 1 1 ; p. 6, s. 1 -2,

Nechashev I' 592
Ex. X.2.A Hypothetical text underlay for Ex. IX.2
Ex. X.2.B Correct text underlay for the beginning of Ex. IX.2
Ex. X.3 Hypothetical text underlay for Ex. IX.2

Mus. 15: 12 (VI.2-3) 20 (1.1) 25 (1.2) 36 (1.3) 52 (VI.6-7) 62/61

(VI.1), 74 (1.4)
Mus. 19e: 9b/10 (III.4) 10b11 (111.1), 11/12 (VII. 2) 13/14 (VII.1),

15/16 (VII.3)
Mus. 19f: 6/7 (VI.4-5) 7/8 (VII.4), 9/10 (III.2) 12b/13 (111.3)

Mus. 46a: 192 (11.1)

Mus. 72: 21 (VII.5)

Mus. 75: 5(X.I),6(VIII.1), 7b(IX.1),9(IX.2), 11 (IX.3) 18c(VIII.2)

Mus. Add. 5: 2(VIII.3),3(V.1),8a(V.2),22(IV.1)
S.6336: 1 (IV.2)

J. S. Bach, Brandenburg Concerto No. 3, first movement: III. 5-6
Joseph Haydn, Piano Trio in G, Hoboken XV:25, Finale: 11.2-4

TABLE III
Characteristics and Functions of the M'shor'hm

A. The bas

1. Low range

2. Filler bas

a. Harmonic filler

b. Temporal filler

3. Lower pedal point

4. Rhythmic passages

5. Extended bas passages

6. Textual echo

B. The zinger

1. High range

2. Upper pedal point

3. Filler zinger

4. Solo sections in trios

C. Practices pertaining' to both bas and zinger

1. Coordination of m'shor'rim with the musical phrasing

2. Designation of the chazzan through text underlay

3. Deducing the use of m'shor'rim by analogy

D. The use of m'shor'rim with two or more voices sounding
simultaneously

1. Chords

2. Pseudo-counterpoint

TABLE IV
Trio Sections in Adler's Catalogue"

1. Polonaise-Trio Pairs (3/4 time)

027, no. 44-45
044, no. 1 O-l 1,1 5 b
062 c

064, nc. 16,20

Similar: 036, no. 10 (Adagio, Allegro, Trio) d

036, no. 15 (Tempo Moderato, Trio)

067, no. 228 (no heading, Trio)

143, no. 2 (no heading, Trio) = Ex. VIII.3

2. Rondo-Trio Pairs (2/4 time)
143, no. 4,23

Similar: 064, no. 14 (Allegretto, Trio Mineur Mestoso)
067, no. 192 (Andante Tempo di Ungra, Trio

Magiore) = Ex. 11.1
067, no. 193 (Tempo di Cassaca, Trio)

3. March-Trio Pairs (common time)

143, no. 6-7,25-27,99

TABLE IV, continued

Notes

a. The manuscripts are identified by Adler's catalogue numbers. They are
not included in Table I, with the exception of 067 (Mus. 46a) and 143 (Mus.
Add. 5) which are the sources for some of the musical examples in this
study. Two of the trio pairs are among these examples: 143, no. 2 is Ex. VIII.3
and 067, no. 192 is Ex. 11.1.

b. The polonaise and trio are the third and fourth parts of a seven-section

c. This manuscript contains only one item, which is not for voice, but violin;
the polonaise and trio are the first and second parts of a three-section piece.

d. This piece, although apparently in 3/4 time, is characterized by "irregular
measures" (Adler, vol. 1, p. 127).

e. Another version of this piece (040, no. 30) calls the sections Menuetto and
Polonaise.

Notes to the Musical Examples

The examples are identified in Table II. All items discussed in these
notes are marked by an "x" in the examples. The notation of the manuscripts
is followed as closely as possible. Accidentals, slurs, barring, the direction
of the note stems, and the placement and spelling of the text underlay and
h/m indications are all given as they appear (with the exception of the
hypothetical text underlay in Ex. X.2.A and X.3.A-C). The beginning of a new
page in a manuscript or of a new staff on the page is shown by the
abbreviation [p.] or [s.] in square brackets (N.B. the abbreviation [s.] always
refers to the number of the staff on the manuscript page, not on the page of
examples). Tempo markings and time signatures that apply to an example
but do not coincide in the manuscript with the beginning of the example are
also in square brackets. Abbreviations for tempo markings have been
expanded.

Ex. 1.1, s. 1, m. 9. The manuscript has4 1/2 beats in this measure.

Ex. 1.2. Tempo marking All°"°.

Ex. 1. 2. The opening of the Da Capo section is shown in parentheses.

Ex. 1.4. The entire piece is crossed out in the manuscript.

Ex. 1 1 .3-4. The editorial natural and slur are Becker-Glauch's (see
above, n. 20).

Ex. 111.1. This example is crossed out in the manuscript.

Ex. III.1, s. 7, m. 5. The F-natural is in the manuscript.

Ex. 111.2, s. 5, m. 2. C originally B; corrected in the manuscript.

Ex. 111.3, m. 3, fourth note. C originally third-line B; corrected in the
manuscript.

Ex. IV. 1, s. 9, m. 4, fourth beat. Perhaps the rhythm should be read as
a grace-note and a quarter-note instead of two eighth-notes.

Ex. IV. 1, s. 9, m. 5, fourth beat. Perhaps the rhythm should be read as
a grace-note and a quarter-note instead of two eighth-notes.

Notes to the Musical Examples, continued

Ex. IV. 2, s. 4, m. 4, second beat and s. 5, m. 1, first beat. Stem direction
changed from up to down in the manuscript.

Ex. IV.2, s. 5, m. 1, second beat. The shared note-head is a sixteenth-
note in the uppervoice and an eighth-note in the lowervoice.

Ex. V.1, p. 2, m. 6. Second grace-note crossed out in the manuscript.
Either the extra note was entered in error, or else the text was intended to be
b'shirei instead of shirei, and when the letter beit was not entered, one of the
grace-note became superfluous.

Ex. V.1, p. 2, s. 2, m. 6. E was originally D; corrected in the manuscript.

Ex. V.1, p. 2, s. 4, m. 5. D was originally E; corrected in the manuscript.

Ex. V.I, p. 2, s. 4, m. 7. Displaced text underlay is shown as in the
manuscript.

Ex. VI. 1 The tempo marking and the second barline are given as in the
manuscript.

Ex. VI.5. For the Da Capo, see Ex. VI.4.

Ex. VI. 6-7. Tempo marking All " .

Ex. V11.4. The Da Capo is shown in parentheses.

Ex. VIII.3. The key signature does not change in the Trio.

Ex. IX. 2. The beginning of the repeated passage is not shown in the
example.

Ex. IX.3, s. 8, m. 2, fourth triplet, first note. D in manuscript; read E?

Ex. X.1, s. 10, m. 3. Originally, only the second C was marked natural;
The correction is shown as in the manuscript.

Ex. X.1 , p. 6, m. 1, seventh group of thirty-second notes, third note.
Shown as in the manuscript. Probably the A was written first in error and the
C was then added as a correction; however, the A was not deleted.

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EDITOR'S NOTE

The following article was published in the March/ April, 1995 issue of
the Labor Zionist journal, The Jewish Frontier. The article was forwarded
to Hazzan Samuel Rosenbaum by Isabel Belarsky, wife of the late Sidor
Belarsky, for possible publication in the Journal of Synagogue Music. In
her letter which accompanied the article, Mrs. Belarsky acknowledges
Hazzan Rosenbaum's admiration for her husband's work and praises the
work of Cantor Joel Colman. As part of the requirement for a Master of
Sacred Music Degree from the Hebrew Union College - Jewish Institute
of Religion, Cantor Colman wrote a these analyzing the contributions to
Jewish and secular music by Sidor Belarsky. In the close of her letter, Mrs.
Belarsky wrote, "Again thank you for all your concern about Sidor. I'm
trying to keep his "song alive". The Journal of Synagogue Music is pleased
to honor the memory of Sidor Belarsky and especially his contributions to
Jewish music by reprinting the article in the Jewish Frontier, followed by
Cantor Colman's thesis in its entirety.

THE MORMON AND THE CANTOR

By lANA Boin

With economic conditions desperate and political indications increas-
ing uncertain, nearly anyone in the Soviet Union in the 1930s would have
welcomed an opportunity to leave for brighter shores. But the regime was
closing off emigration just as foreign powers - notably the United States
- were reducing immigration to a tiny trickle. And for many Soviet Jews
the cost of staying behind would prove very high.

One of the more unusual deliverances from Soviet Russia in this or any
other period came about when a strange series of events brought together
a prominent Mormon from Utah and a rising young Russian Jewish opera
singer. Thus, it was that Franklin S. Harris, President of Brigham Young
University, became the guardian angel of Sidor Belarsky, his wife, Clara,
and his daughter Isabel.

AFATEFUL MEETING

The connection between these two men from such different worlds
came through Belarsky's uncle, Benjamin Brown. Brown, who had
emigrated from Russia to the United States in the early part of the
century, had been involved in agriculture in Utah, where he was also
the leading founder and director of the Jewish agricultural colony at
Clarion. Brown knew "everyone in Utah" including President Harris,
who was an agronomist by training.

In the late 1920s word was coming out of the Soviet Union of plans
for a Jewish agricultural settlement in Biro Bidzhan, in the Soviet Far
East. American Jewish leaders were uncertain about whether they
should support this project, and to investigate and answer their con-
cerns ICOR (the American Organization for Jewish Colonization) was
organized. Benjamin Brown was a member of ICOR, and when the
group undertook a visit in 1929 to determine the feasibility of the Biro
Bidzhan project, it was natural for Brown to enlist Franklin Harris's
expertise. Harris chaired the commission, taking leave from his position
at Brigham Young to make the trip. He brought along his secretary,
Kiefer Sauls, who later became the treasurer of BYU.

At issue, of course, were more than agricultural questions. Russian
Jews had long been victims of official persecution and bloody pogroms.
Under Tsarism, Jews had their economic and other activities restricted;
they were banned in most cases from working on the land and they
were crowded into certain parts of the country and limited professional

fields. This made them even more vulnerable than others to the Soviet
government's communist program, which took over the great majority
of their small businesses. As Kiefer Sauls commented in his account of
the ICOR expedition, Russian Jews had long been treated as second-
class citizens, persecuted when things didn't go well - "if the gasoline
got short" - and by the late 1920s it was looking like they might not
fare any better under the new regime.

The ICOR commission had two objectives in their visit: to see first
hand the conditions of Jewish life in the shtetls (the impoverished, tiny
Jewish villages of Eastern Europe) and to see whether a colony in Biro
Bidzhan was feasible and could help alleviate the situation of Russian
Jews. The commission began by meeting with government officials and
Jewish organizations in Moscow. They then travelled to Jewish villages
in the Ukraine and to Crimea, where a recently founded Jewish
agricultural enterprise gave the visitors an opportunity "to learn how
successful these people were in the transition from village to rural life,"
according to Sauls. Next they set out for Khabarovsk, the administra-
tive center for the Soviet Far East, and visited nearby Biro Bidzhan and
surrounding areas, often travelling by horseback or in wagons through
the rough country. They met with a noted botanist and with government
officials in Vladivostok and finally returned to Moscow, where they
reported their findings to Prime Minister Rykof. They were well-
received, according to Kiefer Saul, who described the prime minister as
a "cultured, intelligent person" who seemed to understand the problems
of the Jewish people and to support the Biro Bidzhan project (later
Rykof was purged from the Soviet leadership and "liquidated").

THE HUMANIST AND THE OPERA SINGER

That the chairman of a commission with such a technical agenda
should take on the cause of a young Jewish opera singer may seem
surprising, but Franklin Harris was a man of broad interests, knowl-
edgeable in many areas, and "a great student of human nature,"
according to Sauls. "Art galleries, museums, libraries, opera houses,
and cathedrals usually had priority on his list of things to see." Thus in
his notes for Saturday, September 28, 1929, Harris mentions a visit to a
synagogue and a Jewish school, an afternoon at the Academy of
Sciences, and an evening at the opera house, where he saw the ballet
"The Red Poppy." Perhaps even without the intervention of Benjamin
Brown, Harris would have encountered Sidor Belarsky.

But in fact, Brown took Harris in the summer of 1929 to hear his
nephew in a Leningrad State Opera performance in Moscow. Harris
liked what he heard and made Belarsky an offer no one in his position
could have refused: a way to leave Russia. Harris offered him an
ostensibly "temporary" position as a special instructor in vocal music at
B YU. Belarsky accepted, knowing that if he and his family succeeded
in leaving they would somehow arrange to stay in America. Belarsky' s
daughter, Isabel, emphasizes that it was only President Harris's pull that
made it possible for her family to leave over the objections of the
Soviet government and the government-controlled artists union.

By 1929, Belarsky had completed his musical education, graduating
from Leningrad State Conservatory, no small feat for a Jewish singer.
He was a soloist with the Kirov Opera as well as the Leningrad State
Opera, and he had begun to concertize extensively. Belarsky, born
February 23, 1900, was the son of Moshe Lifshitz, a successful
businessman. Benjamin Brown, Harris's colleague in the ICOR, was
Moshe's brother. (Brown had changed his name when he emigrated to
America; Belarksy, on the other hand, was a stage name created from
the names of the singer's wife, Clara, and daughter, Belachka or Isabel.)

At Sidor Belarsky' s invitation, Brown and Harris visited the Lifshitz
family in their village of Kreshopel, in the Ukraine. Isabel and Clara
were staying with Sidor' s family in Kreshopel, as they did every
summer, Isabel recalls. This was a welcome relief from the crowded
conditions in Leningrad, where the family lived in a single room of an
apartment that had belonged to a single family before the Revolution.
Even under those circumstances, she says, "there were always people
there" - Belarsky's personality seems to have had the warmth and
energy of his singing.

Isabel, who was nine years old that summer, remembers the
commissioners' visit vividly; the arrival of the two Americans was
momentous event in the life of the shtetl. "Everyone was so excited,
and all the children were following them around" - including Isabel. It
was "as if they came out of nowhere into this small village, a real
Ukrainian shtetl." Several family members greeted the visitors, who
arrived shortly before dawn after a railroad journey of more than
twenty-four hours. The commissioners were followed everywhere on
their brief visit by inquisitive, friendly townspeople. When they left, the
entire community accompanied them to the railway station and two of
the men travelled with them on the train for one station out of
Kreshopel.

"A VERY BAD TIME"

This brief, close encounter with Kreshopel gave Harris a change to
observe the difficulties the Jews faced in this period. Harris wrote of
the visit with characteristic insight: "The village in which we are
visiting has seen many of these raids (pogroms)... With the coming of
the new regime, an attempt is made to eliminate all race persecution
and to allow each people to develop its own culture. The people in the
villages, however, have vivid memories and are in constant fear that
something may arise to bring on a repetition of past atrocities." He
ended his account with the declaration that the commission would do
"everything possible to alleviate their (the Jews') suffering and to give
these people an opportunity to live happy lives unmolested by hostile
neighbors and freed from the abject poverty which is now their
portion." Perhaps Harris's sympathy and understanding of the plight of
the Jew owes something to his own background - after all, struggles
with persecution are common to both Jewish and Mormon history.

Sidor Belarsky had very personal experience with oppression both
before and after the Revolution, and had no reason to trust the new
regime. As a young man he had twice fled the Russian draft - a system
deliberately calculated to deprive Jewish recruits of their religion- and
his wife's parents had perished in a pogrom in 1920. (History proved
the fears of further atrocities were tragically justified; during World
War II the Nazi massacres of the region's Jewish population were
carried out with considerable local support.) Clearly, no amount of
professional and artistic success could change the fact that it was a
"very bad time there." Another singer Belarsky knew from the
Leningrad Conservatory, also Jewish, saw them off at the train station
in 1929 and pleaded, "Don't forget us."

"People were living in desperate conditions," Isabel says. "Some-
thing was brewing in the world," not only in the Soviet Union but in
Europe, something the Belarskys would sense in the air as they crossed
Germany and France just before Hitler came to power.

Even with the offer of the teaching position and President Harris's
considerable influence and persuasive powers, it took the Belarskys
several months to get permission to leave the country. In the fall of
1 929 Harris was still in Russia, and he continued to take a personal
interest in helping Belarsky. Thus, Harris's detailed account of his
activities on October 1, 1929, includes the following rather colorful
vignette:

"Later Mr. Brown and I went with his nephew, Israel M. Levsheetz

(sic), a musician who goes by the name of Belarsky, to the Artists
Union where I helped him transact some business in connection with a
proposed trip to America. At this place I found that they are very
careful to safeguard the interests of the artist. There arc quite a number
of odd-looking people around who seem to be cultivating their artistic

That the teaching position was only a pretext, and that Harris's

a for Belarsky' s future was genuine, is illustrated further down in
it of the same day, in a note that he, with two other commis-
sion members, "went with Mr. Brown and his nephew to assist them in
arranging for transportation of the nephew to New York where he is
expecting to enter a musical career."

Thanks to Harris's "pull" and with financial help from Benjamin
Brown, the family finally left Russia in December 1929. They went by
train to Cherbourg, France, to board the Aquitania. It was a traumatic
and sometimes colorful journey. At the Russian border, a guard
demanded that Sidor crate the family samovar; to set the "fee" for this,
the guard ascertained how much money Belarsky had with him - ten
dollars - and demanded all of it. After similar encounters with greedy
and probably anti-Semitic officials on a Warsaw stopover, the family
arrived in Berlin penniless, and had to cable Benjamin Brown for
money to continue their journey to France.

AMERICA, VIA UTAH

They finally arrived in New York on February 8, 1930. Sidor
Belarsky went on to Utah, where President Harris arranged for him to
stay temporarily with a local judge, Alfred Booth. Meanwhile, Clara
and Isabel stayed first in upstate New York, at a bungalow colony
owned by Brown, then in two different locations in New York City.
Benjamin Brown's son, Bib, lived with them at 145th Street and
Broadway, and another cousin from the Brown side of the family
stayed with them to help pay the rent.

Eventually, Sidor brought his family to Utah and they moved into a
rooming house in Provo for BYU faculty and students. The Belarskys
ate all their meals with the other boarders, and soon felt very much at
home. They lived in a similar rooming house later, when Sidor taught
at the University of Utah in Salk Lake City.

The Belarskys still faced the challenge of securing permanent status
in the United States: this, like their departure from the Soviet Union,

was made possible by Franklin Harris and his fellow Mormons. The
initial six-month visa was automatically extended once, then a "singing
engagement" for Sidor was arranged to give them a little breathing
space. At this point, immigration officials said there would be abso-

Dramatic efforts were required, and the Mormon community came
through with spirit. The family's allies included Harris's brother, who
had well-placed contacts in the consular world; the mayor of Provo; the
American Legion; and local bankers, who vouched for Sidor finan-
cially. "Somebody knew somebody in Washington in immigration,"
according to Isabel, and her father "sang on the phone to the head of

Eventually, arrangement!

i were made for Sidor

to go through the

American consulate in Vano

ouver - he would enter

Canada, obtain

documents, and then return f

a the United States un

der the immigratic

quota for Canada. When the

consul hesitated, reluci

:ant to help unless

he could be sure the U.S. wo

uld let Belarsky back

in, the singer wem

Vancouver to argue his case in person. He went to the consulate
without an appointment. The consul's secretary balked when Belarsky
insisted on seeing the consul, so he waited and, when the secretary
went to the ladies' room a while later, he snuck into the official's office.
As a reflection of the sheer force of the singer's personality, the
formerly reluctant consul ended up giving Belarsky his green card that
evening at a party in Belarsky' s honor. Soon after this, similar arrange-
ments were made of Isabel and Clara Belarsky, who went - with
somewhat less fanfare - to Ontario, where they got their green card.

Meanwhile, Sidor Belarsky had been teaching at Brigham Young
University in Provo and at the University of Utah in Salt Lake City
during several summers. His students and colleagues remember his
years there with affection and respect.

At a 1980 reception in Provo in Belarsky's memory - timed for the
50th anniversary of his emigration from Russia - Isabel Belarsky was
invited to speak, and she spoke with great feeling about those early
years and her gratitude to the Mormons who made their new life
possible. Other key people from that time were on hand to reminisce
and the honor the teacher, singer, and friend they shared. Six former
students and the family's Provo landlady were there; so was Janet
Jensen, the granddaughter of Franklin Harris,

One of Sidor's first American students recalled that the singer began
teaching with practically no knowledge of English. Eugene Jorgenson

recalled that, at first, Sidor could only respond to students by saying
"Yes O.K." or "No O.K." Jorgenson made a deal with the singer to
tutor him in English in exchange for lessons, and Belarsky must have
been an excellent student. Isabel recalls her father's fondness for

king sr
Jorgens

leeches" before
;on, who went c

singing.
>n to become choral conductor,

remembers

arsky as

"a tremendous

taskmaster. ..I've never seen a

musician play

es so ri

igorously with (

me finger! And he had gestures

. He would

occasii

anally get aggrt

ivated and let out an explosion

of sound. He

ON TO OTHER STAGES

At the 1980 reception, two recordings of Sidor Belarsky were
played: the famous Volga boatman song and another, more carefree,
Russian melody. Even heard twice-removed, on a murky tape of the
proceedings, Belarsky' s voice is stirring, both warm and powerful,
intimate and haunting. Critics spoke of his "rich mellow bass" and
praised him as "a remarkable interpreter." Some likened him to the
Russian bass Chaliapin, who occupies a place among basses similar to
Caruso's among tenors.

As President Harris clearly expected, Belarsky didn't ultimately
make his career in Utah, but went on to sing opera and Jewish music on
stages around the world. He settled the family first in Los Angeles, then
in New York, looking for the best opportunities.

Within a few years of arriving in America, Belarsky had helped
found the American Opera Company, which pioneered the performance
of Russian opera in English translation. In the 1930s he appeared with
the Chicago Lyric and San Francisco opera companies; with the
Metropolitan Opera touring company, he sang at the Teatro Municipal
in Rio de Janeiro and Teatro Colon in Buenos Aires. In the 1940s he
appeared as a soloist under the baton of Arturo Toscanini, Artur
Rodzinsky and Fritz Busch, and sang with the newly formed New York
Opera. For many years, he gave annual concerts at Carnegie Hall and
Town Hall in New York.

His activities in Jewish music included many years as a cantor for
High Holiday services, toward the end of his life, mainly in South
America. His extensive concert tours took him to Belgium, France,
South Africa, Holland, Mexico, Australia, Chile, Argentina and Peru.

Sidor Belarsky had a special relationship with Israel throughout his

career. He was there the day the Jewish state was born, and he sang for
the Israeli troops. He eventually went to Israel about 12 times. He had
close ties to the Israeli labor organization, Histadrut, which played a
central role in building up the new country. A charming 1951 Histadrut
film shows him entertaining and talking in the atmosphere of the land,
with lively scenes both in Israel and Cyprus, where he sang for
Yemenite refugees on their way to their new home. In the 1960s,
Belarsky performed in Israel on two separate occasions by invitation of
President Zalman Shazar. On one of these trips, he insisted that his
wife, who usually remained at home, accompany him and enjoy the
fruits of his career and popularity there. He could have run into some of
his erstwhile colleagues from Utah; the Mormons' strong interest and

vith Israel was confirmed during Teddy Kollek's mayorship

THE LEGACY

Belarsky' s recordings of Yiddish songs continue to win him new
listeners 20 years after his death on June 7, 1975. His devotion to his
Jewish musical heritage aroused interest and respect during his years in
Utah, and his impact there continues through his recordings.

Belarsky never forgot his debt to President Harris and Brigham
Young. After his death, his daughter found in his papers a large
envelope labeled "Mormons", which included documents and corre-
spondence that traced this unusual story. There were pictures of
students, music written expressly form him by composers associated
with the schools, and letters, including one from Utah's Senator Reed
Smoot regarding an engagement to sing for the Provo post of the
American Legion. In her father's memory, and out of her own enduring
gratitude, Isabel established the Sidor Belarsky Archive at Brigham
Young, and she has arranged in her will to endow a scholarship in her
father's name.

WHY SIDOR BELARSKY WAS POPULAR
AMONG AMERICAN JEWRY ■ 1930-1975

by JOEL COLMAN

Fulfilment of Requirements
for Master of Sacred Music Degree Hebrew Union College-
Jewish Institute of Religion School of Sacred Music New York,
New York, March 27, 1995 . Advisor: Rabbi CaroleBalin

I ntroduction

I can easily recall when I first heard the name Sidor
Belarsky. It was my voice teacher who initially suggested that I
purchase Belarsky' s recordings for two reasons: first, because of
his high degree of musicality, and secondly because he was a
bass-baritone as I am. Given the fact that I had studied very little
Yiddish music up to that point, coupled with the fact that
Belarsky had died in 1975, I was unfamiliar with him and his
music.

Purchasing tapes of Belarsky was not difficult, if one
knew where to look. I was directed to the Workman's Circle,
which is an organization that promotes the use of the Yiddish
language through classes, programs, and its bookstore. 1 was
able to purchase recordings of Belarsky at the Workman's
Circle. I listened to the tapes and was impressed by his singing,
as well as his interpretation of the music and words. I began to
wonder who was this man, and what was the trajectory of his
career. When I approached several faculty members of the
Hebrew Union College - Jewish Institute of Religion, suggesting
to them that perhaps a study of Sidor Belarsky would be an
appropriate subject for my master's project, they agreed. Months
later, the faculty accepted my proposal, entitled: Sidor Belarsky
and his Contribution to Jewish and Secular Music.

JOEL COLMAN is the cantor and dl
Synagogue in Greenwich, Connecticut. H(
Music at Hebrew Union College-Jewish li

want to explain how my initial approach to the study of Sidor
Belarsky became altered. I was disappointed to find that recent
publications listing famous Jews in music did not include
Belarsky. However, I was relieved and delighted to find a
lengthy notation and accompanying photograph of Sidor
Belarsky in a publication nearly fifty years old. Nevertheless, I
was concerned of the possibility that Belarsky was not as
significant performer as I had been led to believe. Therefore, I
began to concentrate on Sidor Belarsky on a much broader scale.
Namely, I wanted to determine how Belarsky fit into the overall
picture of Jewish life from 1930 until his death in 1975. Rather
than depending on what had been written about Belarsky, which
unfortunately is very meager, I would have to depend on
research materials devoted to Yiddish culture in America and on
interviews of people who knew Belarsky.

This study explores how Belarsky fit into Jewish
America from the time of his arrival to the United States in 1930
until his death in 1975. Since Belarsky had a performance career
that spans over four decades, his presence was felt by different
generations, including first, second, and for a short time, third
generation Jews in America. The purpose of this paper is to
determine why Belarsky appealed to Jewish audiences. After
providing an overview of Belarsky' s life, with particular
attention devoted to his movement from the world of secular
music to that of Jewish music, I will describe three chief causes
that led to Belarsky' s popularity: his use of the Yiddish lan-
guage, the texts that he sang, and the form of music that he sang.
In conclusion, I will explore these three factors, discuss why
Belarsky appealed to Jewish Americans, how Belarsky's's
interpretations of the Yiddish folk song apply to the American
Reform cantorate today, and how Belarsky (if he were still alive)
would relate to third generation Jewish Americans.

Sidor Belarsky in Retrospect: A Biography

Sidor Belarsky (1898-1975) emigrated from Russia in
the year 1930. He, therefore, belonged to the wave of Jewish
immigration that has since been labeled the "Russian or East
European" immigration of Jews to America. Although there

were Jews who arrived in America from various parts of the
world, the overwhelming number of Jews who arrived to
America at the turn of the century hailed specifically from
Eastern Europe. It is important to note that Belarsky's life in
Europe was far different from the average East European's.
Most Russian-Polish Jews had been: employed in trade, tavern
keeping, brokerage, makeshift occupations, as rabbis and other
religious functionaries, about twenty-five percent artisans, and

In contrast, Belarsky devoted himself to studying music and
singing. His experience differed from those of most East
European Jews, especially those who lived in the small towns of
the Pale of Settlement, because Belarsky gravitated to the cities
which offered gifted Jews like Belarsky opportunities for
musical training. Belarsky, whose hometown of Kreshopel was
not far from the Black Sea, found ample training ground for his
talents in Odessa. By the beginning of the twentieth century,
Odessa had a population of approximately two hundred thou-
sand, and was considered a center of intellectual and cultural life.
It was this city with its rich cultural life that enabled Belarsky to
learn how to sing with such skillful musicality.

Belarsky's entrance into the world of Yiddish music
was probably not his preference, for we know that the early years
of his life in America were consumed by teaching and singing in
operas. After his unusual arrival to the United States in January
of 1930 — sponsored as he was by Dr. Franklin Harris, president
of Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah — Belarsky taught
voice for three years at the University and then moved to Los
Angeles. Once on the West Coast, he attempted to establish an
opera company, which sang opera classics in English. In a letter
to the President of Brigham Young University in 1934, Belarsky
writes not a word about singing Jewish music but rather goes on
at length about his opera company: The na
the American Opera Company. We are go
American singers and for American audie
understood that all our presentations are go
English language. In our first performance
one-hundred-and-twenty people, a large s

ime of our

company is

)ing to giv(
ling to be i

; opera with
lone in the

e, we had .
symphony

on the stage
orchestra,

special printed scenery, and most beautiful costumes. Now we
are rehearsing and preparing for the coming season three more
operas. Boris Goudonof will of course be repeated. It seems
Belarsky was hoping to make opera his full-time career. And in
fact, throughout his lifetime, he managed to sing operatic roles.

Belarsky' s feelings toward opera are evident in both the
contents and biographical statement published in his songbook.
Though the songbook contains 202 Yiddish and Hebrew
melodies, there is not a single reference to his many concerts
performed in Israel, Palestine, and for Zionist organizations.
Neither is mention made of the many Yiddish concerts he
performed in New York and elsewhere. Rather the biographical
section emphasizes his role in the world of non-Jewish music. It
reads: Sidor Belarsky a graduate of the State Conservatory at
Leningrad was formerly a leading basso of the Leningrad State
Opera Company. Within an astonishingly short time he was
hailed as one the leading artists of the day. In his song recitals
from coast to coast and as soloist with such eminent conductors
as Arturo Toscanini, Fritz Busch, Artur Rodzinski and others, his
success has been overwhelming. Likewise in opera, Sidor
Belarsky has been triumphantly received as leading basso of the
Chicago Civic Opera Company, the San Francisco Opera
Company, the American Opera Company of Los Angeles, the
New York City Center Company, Teatro Municipal in Rio de
Janeiro and the Teatro Colon in Buenos Aires . . ..Moreover, when
Isabel Belarsky was given a reception at Brigham Young
University in 1980, an article in the local newspaper was titled
"Daughter of Opera Star To be Welcomed at 'Y'." Despite the
headline, however, the journalist reported that, "Belarsky was
particularly well-known for his interpretation of Hebrew and
Jewish songs, as well as Russian folk music. He died in 1975."
At the reception, there were two recordings played of Belarsky
singing - - a Russian song and an operatic piece, not a word of
Yiddish was heard.

Belarsky' s turned toward singing Yiddish music
sometime in 1934. In an interview with Isabel Belarsky, she
described how Belarsky came to this decision. In 1934, her
father sang at a Jewish function with the noted Zionist leader,

essayist, and editor Hayim Greenberg in the audience. Taking
notice of Belarsky's apparent skill in singing in Yiddish,
Greenberg connected Belarsky with several Zionist organiza-
tions, which would appreciate having Yiddish music sung. This
became a turning point in Belarsky's career. His connection to
Labor Zionist organizations was, in fact, a primary reason for
Belarsky moving to New York in 1936. In order to support his
family, Belarsky sang in concerts in New York and performed as
well as a cantor in Philadelphia, Atlantic City, and New York
during the High Holidays. Eventually Belarsky's High Holiday
singing would even take him overseas to South America and
South Africa.

One can only speculate why Greenberg was so enrap-.
tured with Belarsky, and why they became such good friends.
Although Greenberg was ten years Belarsky's senior, the two
had much in common. Both had lived in Odessa and were
university trained, The two had even lived in Berlin in the same
year of 1921. More importantly, each had a love for the Yiddish
language. The Jewish music world owes a debt to Greenberg for
initiating Belarsky's long association with Jewish organizations.

The Jewish music world is, of course, fortunate that
Belarsky's operatic aspirations did not come to fruition. With
his entry into the world of Jewish labor organizations, Belarsky
embarked on a long career, establishing himself as one of the
foremost interpreters of Yiddish folk music. The question
emerges how did Belarsky manage to achieve this, and what was
his appeal to Jewish American audiences?

I submit that three elements account for Belarsky's
popularity: his ability to sing Yiddish, his selection of texts, and
the music that he sang. Therefore, this paper is divided into
three sections. In the first section, I will discuss the importance
of Yiddish to Jewish Americans. The second section is devoted
to the texts of the songs that Belarsky sang. And the third
section is a study of the music that Belarsky sang, and how
Jewish American audiences related to those melodies.

Belarsky's Contribution I:

The Significance of the Yiddish Language
to American-Jewish Audiences
Although Belarsky performed in many concerts and operas
throughout his career to the American public in general, it was
his connection to American Jewry in particular that was central
to his career. The majority of his records are of a Jewish nature,
that is either Yiddish or Hebrew music, and his popularity was

United States and abroad. It is important then to ask: what kind
of Yiddish music did Belarsky sing? Belarsky did not sing the
Yiddish theater music that was so popular with Jewish audiences
in New York. For one thing, Belarsky's daughter claims that her
father was not comfortable singing this genre of Jewish music,
though he was no doubt capable of singing the music written for
the Yiddish theater. Moreover, by the time Belarsky was
establishing himself as a performer in America, from the mid-
1930's, the heyday of Yiddish theaters had passed. Theaters on
Second Avenue in New York shrunk from approximately twenty
(at its height) to no more than four or five in 1940. Rather,
Belarsky was best known for singing Yiddish folk songs with
simplicity and pathos. His former students such as Loretta Di
Franco and Kenny Karen remember this facet of Belarsky's
performances, and continue to draw on coaching tips taught over
thirty years ago when performing the very songs their teacher
used to sing. During my interviews of people who knew Belar-
sky, I was also fortunate to meet a contemporary of Belarsky.
Masha Benya, who is a very popular Yiddish singer, has high
praise for Belarsky: I learned from him phrasing, diction, accents
on words ... I admired his wonderful breath control ... the quality
of his voice was incomparable. It was a special quality you
seldom hear.

Every artist needs an audience, and in Belarsky's case,
he needed an audience that could understand what he was
singing. Belarsky found such an audience in America. By the
time Belarsky arrived to the United States in January, 1930,
Jewish immigrants had in fact swelled the overall Jewish
population in America to three and a half million. The e

influx of Jews to America became the basis for Belarsky's
audiences. While many of these Jews had brought with them to
America only the possessions that could be carried on their
backs, they did have their culture, including their expressive
language. Despite its different dialects and regional differences,
the Yiddish language bonded these immigrants together. And
eventually the different dialects would be blended together, and a
new Yiddish dialect would be formed, known as "American"
Yiddish.

The Yiddish language served many different purposes.
On the simplest level, it was used by Jews as a means of commu-
nication, whether to speak to each other or for "just getting
around" heavily Jewishly-populated areas. Yiddish also was a
way for Jews to identify as Jews, both personally and intellectu-
ally - almost like a language badge of honor. For new immi-
grants with few material possessions, but a strong sense of
ethnicity, speaking Yiddish reinforced that identity and even, for
some their self-esteem. Once established in America, continuing
to speak Yiddish was a sign of taking pride in one's ancestry and
in the Jewish community, both past and present. Additionally,
the Yiddish language was a tool of unity for those American
Jews who shared similar social problems.

Since Belarsky sang songs in Yiddish, Jewish audiences
could easily identify with the music and words, (see pages 19 -
28 for a discussion of the lyrics). Moreover, because Belarsky
was a highly skilled musician and knew Yiddish (Russian was
his mother tongue), he was able to interpret these songs with
artistry that touched Jewish audiences. To take but one example,
Cantor Samuel Rosenbaum states: More than any other, Sidor
Belarsky was the singer who taught American Jews to under-
stand and to treasure the unique Yiddishkeit of the songs of the
Jews of Eastern Europe. But he was more than a singer, more
than a consummate musician, and even more than an inspired
poet of song. He was a pathfinder and teacher who exposed to
the deepest sinews of the Jewish experience in Europe and later
in Israel. Molly Freedman, whose husband has amassed a
collection of over 1,500 Yiddish recordings, including those of
Sidor Belarsky, recalls, "He was the singer of the period-my

father used to play his stuff every Sunday. In the Italian houses
they played Caruso, in my house they played Sidor Belarsky."
In Molly's childhood home, Belarsky was seen as the musical
representative of the Jews. Joseph Mlotek, a representative of
the Workman's Circle, adds his voice to those who praise
Belarsky: "Belarsky was the beloved voice of our people, whose
song will live on in our memory." Chana Mlotek, the music
archivist for Y1VO, the premier institute for Yiddish research in

the United State;

s. agn

;es: "Sidor Belarsky was a musical

phenomenon unt

:o hiir

iself: the foremost artist in the presentati

of Yiddish folk a

nd art

songs on the concert stage and on disc."

These quotes are

espec

dally significant, since both Chana and

Joseph Mlotek a

sidered experts in the field of Yiddish

studies.

Yiddish was also used by immigrants who formed
organizations to help acculturate themselves to American
society. The organizations not only supported these new
immigrants as they made their way in America, but they also
allowed them to maintain their strong association with Jewish
culture. As the historian Milton Doroshkin claims: Sociologi-
cally, there was a developed, organized community of Jews in
the United States during the period of East European immigra-
tion (1880- 1924), represented by cultural institutions that
reflected the needs of the people, and with which the individual
Jew identified and affiliated . ..Thus we see the national frater-
nal orders, the labor orders, and the various landmanshaften
(religious, mutual aid, social, familial, ladies, etc.), tied together
broadly as a social category by virtue of the fact that in one form
or another they developed on the American scene as a response
to the need of the Jewish immigrants for a bridge from the old
world to the new. As well, the historians Paul Mendes-Flohr and
Jehuda Reinharz explain, "The East European immigrants also
brought with them socialism, and various secular Jewish
ideologies, for example, Zionism and Yiddishism, which they
sought to implant in America." Thus we see that the very
organizations, that attempted to help their members move into
American society, sought simultaneously to retain their mem-
bers' Jewish identity. One of these ways was through Yiddish.

On account of Belarsky's skill in singing in Yiddish, a
mutually-satisfying relationship soon developed between
Belarsky and these organizations. When Belarsky arrived to
America, these organizations were functioning at a high level.
And they quickly became the staple for Belarsky's career as a
Yiddish performer. In fact, members of the Histadrut (an agency
that fostered relationships with the labor movement in Israel)
expected Belarsky to perform at their annual conferences.
According to the past president of the Histadrut Foundation, Sol
Stein, one could not even consider holding a musical event
without the singing of Belarsky.

Belarsky's popularity among Yiddish-speaking Jews
did not wane over time. In fact, as the Yiddish language (during
the second half of the twentieth century) diminished in impor-
tance, those Jews who had been raised on the "mother tongue"
clung more tenaciously to it. They wanted to be recognized as a

through the Yiddish language. Belarsky's presence was thus an
effective means of maintaining their heritage, for he sang
Yiddish songs that reminded them of the "Old Country." As the
historian Irving Howe so eloquently put it: "Yiddish had served
as a kind of secret sign, a gleeful or desperate wave to the folks
back home by a performer who liked it to be known that he was
still a Jewish boy ." Howe goes on to explain how local politi-
cians of the time deliberately peppered their speeches with
Yiddish to win over Jews. Belarsky, however, did not need to do
the same. Being secure in his knowledge of music and the
Yiddish language, he naturally brought Jews toward him. He
sang to a fluent audience, who understood every nuance of the
language as it was articulated through the music.

Despite his connection to the "Old World," Belarsky
was not one to remain solely in the past. He was constantly
studying music. In the early 1950's, for instance, he recorded
Songs of the Holocaust, for he wanted to represent musically the
grief of that horrific event. So when Belarsky sang, he could
evoke both sadness and joy from an audience by singing Yiddish
folk songs, Hasidic songs, or Holocaust songs. As Chana Mlotek
suggests, "Much scholarship and aesthetic taste were contained

the songs of the Holocaust, songs of Soviet-Jewish poets, the
immigrant experience, Hasidim, holidays . ..." Cantor Samuel
Rosenbaum echoes: The songs of Israel, and the songs of the
Jews of the Soviet Union (who can forget his early recordings of
"Veulai " and "Kakha," or his album of songs of the Jewish
Russian underground?), all of these responded to his special
genius.. But to me he will always remain the spirit and the
substance of those little towns who were caught in the web of
love and artistry of Sholom Aleichem and Peretz and Gebirtig
and Manger. 1 contend that Belarsky's popularity with the people
stemmed not only from his knowledge of the Yiddish song, but
also from the fact that he succeeded as a musician in the non-
Jewish world. Jews in America, I believe, took delight in a
fellow Jew fitting into the secular world, as well as the Jewish
one. It was a source of pride to his fans to hear Belarsky sing
opera at the New York City Opera and on the radio.

It is important to add that many who remember hearing
Sidor Belarsky sing, did not belong to the first waves of immi-
grants from Russia at the beginning of century. Indeed, num-
bers of Belarsky's fans belong to the second and third generation
of American Jews, who grew up hearing Yiddish being spoken
by parents and grandparents. They, too, have an emotional bond
with Yiddish, but do not identify with the Yiddish folk song in
quite the same way as their parents or grandparents. For some of
these people, Yiddish is not their mother tongue. Yet as the
linguist Joshua Fishman explains, although their ". . .Yiddish is
quite limited their comprehension level is still substantial."
Moreover, many wished to sustain their East European heritage
through song and language. The historian Jack Kugelmass,
describing the current upsurge of interest in Yiddish language
and culture claims: "For others, the East European Jewish past
has reemerged as the bulwark against assimilation as evidenced
by the recent revival of klezmer music and current attitudes
towards Yiddish."

Belarsky's language skill certainly helped him when he
sang to Jewish American audiences. His Yiddish skills enabled
him to engage the audience, not only through song, but when he

would speak to the audience. However, there are many types of
songs that can be sung in Yiddish. Belarsky carefully chose the
songs he sang to Jewish Americans. He knew what they wanted
to hear. In the next section, I will present the lyrics of eight of
Belarsky's songs in an attempt to understand the connection
between the words and Belarsky's audience.

Belarsky's Contribution II:

What the Songs Actually Said to

American - Jewish Audiences

Although Belarsky was capable of singing more

his ability to sing challenging operatic roles prove, he was
popular among Jewish audiences primarily as a result of his
eloquent presentation of the Yiddish folk song. During a career
that spanned over forty-five years, Belarsky compiled over three
hundred fifty recordings, the majority of which is in Yiddish.
Belarsky's daughter Isabel has been actively preserving many of
Belarsky's Yiddish, Hebrew and Hasidic recordings, and has had
these recordings transferred to cassette and CD formats. Addi-
tionally, two songbooks are available even today in bookstores:
Sidor Belarsky Songbook (published by Yiddish Books of
Queens College, Flushing, NY) and My Favorite Songs (ar-
ranged by Sidor Belarsky, published by Tara Publications,
Cedarhurst, NY). I drew the bulk of the materials for my recital
from these two songbooks. Thus my recital is entitled, The
Music Sidor Belarsky Loved To Sing. This section of my paper
is devoted to a study of Belarsky's musical selections. I intend
to explore and explain why the lyrics of his most popular songs
captured the hearts of generations of American Jews. After
presenting some background on Yiddish folk song, I will
interpret the lyrics of eight Belarsky songs.

According to the Yiddishist Eleanor Gordon Mltotek,
Yiddish folks songs have a history tracing back three centuries:
It is to be remembered that some Yiddish folks songs which
folklorists have traced to the sixteenth century in Germany were
collected on Slavic territory in the late nineteenth and early
twentieth centuries; before that they were never set down in

Yiddish folk songs, like most folk songs, have a primarily oral
history.

What are the lyrics of the songs Belarsky sang? By
analyzing eight of these songs, I tried to look for common
themes, such as relationships with people, parents, locations, and
countries. The themes that I will highlight are the East European
experience prior to 1940, Israel, Russia, and the Holocaust. The
eight songs are "DerKremer" (The Grocer), "Dem Mimer's
Trern"(The Miller's Tears), "Dem Zeidn's Broche"
(Grandfather's Blessing), "Yerushalayim," "Olim" (book
translation - Song of the Advancing Brave) "Reizele," and
"Moyshelech, Sholoimelech," and "Ergetz Vait." (In the Distant
Land). These songs are excerpted from My Favorite Songs,
with the exception of "Moyshelach ShloimelacrT (Sidor
Belarsky' s Songbook), and "Ergetz Vait" (Transcontinental
Music Corporation),

One theme prevalent throughout many of these Yiddish
folk songs is the living conditions in Eastern Europe during the
late 1800's. Though it is easy and simplistic to sum up the
Jewish experience in Eastern European by conjuring up the
famous musical Fiddler on the Roof, one cannot help but do just
that when reading the lyrics to these songs. The general motif
found in these folk songs is that of the Jew living in poor
economic conditions in a shetl.

Although the terrible pogroms of 188 1- 1882 were a
significant factor in the emigration of 2,750,000 Jews from
Eastern Europe, severe economic conditions had a major
influence on the Jewish exodus from Eastern Europe as well. As
the historian Robert Seltzer indicates, "After 1 880 a new Jewish
leadership emerged to deal with the special problems of the
Jewish people, including the poverty of most East European
Jews . ..."

The first song to be analyzed is "Der Kremer" (The
Grocer), written by A. Liesin. It is about a poor grocer, who is
waiting for customers on a rainy day. It begins: "There is a poor
modest grocer, among hundred more on the street, he sits and he
waits for a customer, it is dark and the rain is like sleet." As he
sits, he thinks about how much better things would be if there

was Jewish State: "... while his fantasy is wondrous and sweet, a
government run by our people, a Jewish one, you understand . ..."
While he dreams about a Jewish state, a short man comes in and
asks to purchase a very tiny portion of fish, which immediately
ends the grocer's dream and brings him back to reality. The
lyrics continue: "All of a sudden a customer, as big as a peanut
comes in, he asks for a cent's worth of herring, and knocks every
dream out of him." Typical of many of these songs are the
visual pictures one can derive from the words. The words paint a
vivid picture of the poor merchant on the streets of shetl. His
imagination provides the listener with a sense of the onerous
burden carried by the Jewish people living under Tsarist rule.

The second song is "Dem Milner's Trern" (The Miller's
Tears), with words and melody by Warshavsky. As in "Der
Kremer," this song describes a working Jew — an old man
thinking about a bygone time when he was a miller, wondering if
he had any joy in his life: "While passing by me, the years did
try me, I was a miller long ago." He also remembers those who
wanted to drive him away from his town and work, and laments
how the years pass "without an end and without a goal." This
song depicts not only the pogroms that occurred ("The rumors
try me, they want to drive me from out the village and the mill
..."), but, like the previous song, indicates the poor financial
conditions of Russian Jews: "The days, he sings will never come
back as ever, when I could claim a little luck."

The third song, "Dem Zeidn's Broche's" (Grandfather's
Blessing), written by Warshavsky, also dwells on the theme of
poverty. It tells of a man recalling the night before Kol Nidre
when, before the last meal was eaten, his grandfather would
bless him and ask him to go to shul with him. He pleaded with
him, saying: "When the feast before Kol Nidre came to end, my
grandfather blessed me . . . "Come, my child, to shul with me,
God will be most merciful toward you . ..." Now, however, the
grandson bemoans the fact that he ever joined his grandfather for
prayers, for his deed was not rewarded. His years have been
filled with suffering and misfortunes, "You meant well, Grandfa-
ther dearest, but your prayers for me were no blessing . . but
those years were filled with sorrows, everyday brings new

misfortunes, but I don't know why or wherefore." We hear that
even a young man with initial hopes for meeting with financial
success in Eastern Europe, even with the blessings of his
grandfather, still grows up with difficulty and sadness. The
songs explain why so many young men would venture from their
homeland alone to American, bringing the rest of the family only
once some money had been earned. There was little hope for a
future of financial stability in Eastern Europe.

The fourth song in addition to portraying life in the
shetl, discusses relationships. "Reizele" is one of Belarsky's
signature songs, with words by M. Gebirtig. Though this song
does not speak directly of the poverty in the shetl, the listener
can imagine that love appears to overwhelm any concern for
poverty. This song speaks of a young man who is thinking about
his love, Reizele: " . ..I love you so much Reizele, I love your
mama, I love the streets, I love the old house, I love the old
house, 1 love the stones next to the house, because you walk on
them . ,." This song differs from the previous three songs in that
instead of singing about poor old men, we now hear about the
overwhelming feeling of love that this young man has for his
Reizele.

These four songs describe a time when Jews lived in
shetls and for the most part in poverty. And for many first

difficult to conjure up. For second generation Jews in America,
these songs might have been attractive because they can imagine
immediate relatives living in such circumstances (such as a
parent or grandparent). The songs Belarsky sang touched the
hearts of many people.

All these songs speak of harsh times in Eastern Europe.
But many of the Jews once in America continued to have
financial difficulties: Almost two thirds of the new immigrants
settled down in the big cities of the Northeast, especially in
crowded downtown neighborhoods such as the Lower East Side
of New York City. There they found employment in manual
labor of various kinds. Over half entered the ready-made
clothing industry in which entrepreneurs, contractors, tailors, and
e mainly Jews. Wages were low, hours long,

and working conditions poor in the small, unventilated, and dirty
sweatshops. It would seem that, to some degree, Belarsky was
consoling his listeners by reminding them of a time when life
was even more difficult. And as arduous as life was in America,
there was hope that eventually the quality of life would improve
(and, in fact, for most, it did). It is important to add thatBelar-

the country. Belarsky generally sang to Jewish Americans who
had already established themselves in the United States, as we
know Belarsky himself did not sing to Jewish American audi-
ences until the 1930's. Also given the year in which Belarsky' s
book of Favorite Songs was published (1951), singing about
toilsome times in mother Russia may have been easier consider-
ing the mood of Jewish Americans in the early 1950's. As the
sociologist Marshall Sklare observes: Until very recently it
seemed that American Jewry was optimistic about its future.
Older Jews recall the celebration of the American-Jewish
Tercentenary in 1954, honoring the 300th anniversary of the
arrival in New Amsterdam of a small band of Jewish refugees
from Brazil, as a bright and joyous occasion. The reason for the
festivities are easy to locate: Nazism had been destroyed, the
State of Israel had been established, and the enemies of Israel did
not seem to pose any immediate threat to its survival. And while
the main outlines of the tragedy of the Holocaust were known,
American Jewry's illusions had not yet been shattered by the
revelations about the Roosevelt Administration's lack of resolve
to rescue Jews (first from persecution and later from annihila-
tion).

Another common theme in these songs is the desire to
go to Palestine. This was a popular topic in the East European
Jewish press in the 1880's. As one historian puts it: When East
European Jewish emigration increased many fold, the Jewish
press debated whether it should be directed to America or to
Palestine. Most of the emigrants opted for the United States, but
the idea of re-establishing the land of Israel as the center of
Jewish life took hold among many maskilim and Russified Jews.
Zionist ideology played a central role in Belarsky's life. He
visited Israel eight times, including a concert the very evening

Israel was declared a State, and he himself was an important part
of the Histadrut Israel Foundation for many years.

In the song "Yerushalayim," with words by A. Hameiri,
the Zionist theme is unmistakable: "From generation to genera-
tion we dreamed and hoped to be a nation." As well, the theme
of the importance of Jerusalem to the Jewish people is cited
many times, "... Jerusalem, Jerusalem, rebuilt by our strength
and our joy, Jerusalem, Jerusalem, Oh city that none can destroy
. ..Oh holy city great is your praise! Jerusalem, Jerusalem, I
never shall wander from here, Jerusalem. Jerusalem, The
Messiah will surely appear."

In "Olim" (as translated in the songbook: Song of the
Advancing Brave), with words by I. Shenberg, the theme of
going to Israel has even a stronger Zionist message then
"Yerushalayim: " "To the land my fathers knew, my brother are
all coming, and they hear a secret humming: Only this land will
do." Though Belarsky did not make aliyah to Israel, he still sings
about the importance of going to Israel. But given his strong
relationships with labor Zionist organizations, it is no wonder
that his repertoire included a number of songs with a powerful
Zionist theme.

and cold land of Siberia, about which he sings in "Ergetz Vait"
(In the Distant Land), with words by H. Leivik, and music by
Lazar Weiner. The story is about a man, a prisoner by himself:
"Somewhere far away, lies the land forbidden . . somewhere lies
alone a prisoner ... one can't find any way to this forbidden
land." It is important to mention that this song is not a simple
folk song, for Weiner' s music plays on the lyrics with dissonance
created by the music, giving the listener a sense of emptiness. It
is songs like these, that give Belarsky an opportunity to paint
vivid pictures for his audience.

The last song to be analyzed, "Moyshelach,
Shloimelach" words by J. Papernikoff and music by Israel Alter,
tells of the affect that the Holocaust had on a town in Poland.
Belarsky sang about how "under the Polish green trees, little
Moses and little Solomon do not play anymore, no little Sarahs
and little Leahs, not on the grass and not on the snow." And now

this Polish town has no Jewish homes or streets, "Dead arc the
Jewish homes, dead are the streets, and destroyed are the
homes," where children, "sticking out like little mice with their
big dark eyes" used to play. Isabel Belarsky mentioned on
several occasions how people would react when Belarsky would
sing this song. She told me of people sobbing, and even of
someone fainting (in fact, my recital coach became very emo-
tional just translating the text into English).

Belarsky knew that these songs would be meaningful
for his audience. Singing in Yiddish was not just a symbolic
gesture for Belarsky, for he knew that his audiences could
understand the stories he was telling. Belarsky's songs were
significant not only to first generation Jewish Americans, but
also to those who had been born and raised in this country during
the first half of the twentieth century. Many were raised in an
area which was primarily Jewish, and where Yiddish was spoken
in the home. So for many second generation Jews, there was a
strong emotional attachment to the songs that Belarsky sang.

Sidor Belarsky sang many types of songs, including
Yiddish folk songs, Hasidic melodies, and art songs. He was
ever careful to sing these songs which meant something special
to Jewish Americans. Whether to conjure up images of the "Old
Country" or to evoke the desire for a return to Zion, Belarsky
was aware of the texts that he sang and how they affected his
audiences. We know this because Yiddish songs were included
in Belarsky's programs year after year. Belarsky's use of
Yiddish and the texts of the song made for a powerful combina-
tion that usually evoked a strong emotional reaction from the
audience. However, there is still another element of Belarsky's
popularity among American Jews, and that is the melody itself,
which signaled to the audience that this is Jewish music.
Belarsky's Contribution III:
The Significance of Folk Music
to American-Jewish Audiences

In this section, I will first analyze how folk music in
general offers ethnic groups a rallying point for their ethnicity. I
will present two unusual examples of the importance of music
and its relationship to ethnic identity. I will also discuss how

one specific avenue through which ethnic groups
n a part of their heritage, especially when that ethnic
group is no longer in the country of its origin. I will then
examine how East European Jews in particular identified through
Belarsky's music with their Jewish ethnicity.

Music is defined as "The art of organizing sound so as
to elicit an aesthetic response in a listener." This aesthetic
response obviously changes according to the kind of audience
listening. According to the folklorist Ruth Rubin, music is one
facet of any ethnic group, as she explains, "along with ethnic
food, clothing, and folkways, song are some of the great unifiers
of an ethnic group. She summarizes this point in her prologue:
Contrary to the type of Yiddish songs of the earlier archaic
epoch, these folk songs were almost completely anonymous.
They reflected the light and shadow of many generations of
Jewish life in the European communities, a life which included
both the old and the new - the old patterns to which the people
had clung for generations and even centuries and the new forms
emerging under the influences and pressures of the surrounding
Slavic culture and history. Folk songs also augmented the
addition of telling stories of what was happening in a society at
that time. As the musicologist A.Z. Idelsohn explains: In this
song we again find the spirit of the Jewish people, of the masses,
expressing itself. In the Eastern folk-song the life of the
PEOPLE as a whole is reflected, but nonetheless are the senti-
ments of the individual voiced. Moreover, the Jewish woman, as
a living girl, as a married woman, and as a mother, found in it a
channel for the outpouring of her heart.

Folk songs thus provide us with the historical background of an
ethnic group along with words and language. Yet the melody
itself is equally important for building ethnic identity.

The first example of the relationship between ethnic
identity and music is drawn from television. On a recent episode
of the popular science fiction television program, Star Trek The
Next Generation, there was a two-part episode entitled, Birth-
right Parts 1 and 2. The story centered around an alien race
(called Klingons) who were being held captive for over a
generation. When the Klingons were discovered by another

Klingon (called Worf who appears regularly on the program), a
central scene took place where Worf began to sing a Klingon
song to his long lost people, this stirred the memories of the
elderly and inspired the young. The writers of the program had
chosen music as a means for recalling ethnicity.

An additional way in which modern day ethnic groups
are tuning into their heritage is through an older medium of
communication, namely, the radio. In the same way Jews (and
everyone else) listened to the radio during the 1930's and 1940's,
today there are radio stations that cater to the different ethnic
groups of people living in New York. One such radio station is
WRTN (93.5), a station located in metro-New York. It broad-
casts music of India, Ireland, Germany, Italy, Ukraine, Mexico,
and China. The station recently changed its format to accommo-
date the different groups of people that live in the area. The
comments from two DJ's, as quoted in a local newspaper,
explain why they feel it is important to play ethnic music,
exemplifying the importance of song for an ethnic group: "The
show's very important, part of their heritage . ..ethnic music
shows are increasingly important as more immigrants settle in
New York... a great many immigrants just want to keep in touch
with home." The title of the article alone, indicates what music
from a different part of the world can mean to a group of people
who are no longer in the land of their origin: "Ethnic Harmony -
On alternative radio stations, it's not the same old song."

Ethnic groups, such as transported East European Jews
in America, are also affected by the need to hear music that they
can identify as there own. Whereas it is one thing for an ethnic
group to express itself in its own environment, ethnic expres-
sions takes on a different dimension when transported some-
where else. For the East European Jews recently arrived to
America, "Music was a cultural adhesive, covering over the
cracks in an immigrant society and hardening its edges. Above
all, it helped frame a space that was purely for the in-group, and
hence comfortable, in an alien world." New immigrants heard
Jewish music with new ears, because they were now exposed to
a new language (English), new stories (life in America), and very
different types of music (Broadway music, jazz, etc.).

Sociologists tell us that music was an important part of
East European life as well. One must remember that life in the
shetl did not have modern day distractions such as television and
video. In the shetl, people visiting would bring songs to share at
the dinner table. Life was simpler, and therefore singing with
friends and family at home not an unusual event. The sociologist
Mark Slobin claims, "Song was an important part of East
European- Jewish folk culture, even in the small communities we
call the shetl."

There can be no doubt of the importance of music as a
way an ethnic group defines itself, either in a society where the
ethnic group originated; (such as the folk music in Eastern
Europe) or in a transplanted locale (such as America). Ethnic

habitat.

Jewish Americans who desired to hear music identified
as their own could listen to Belarsky's recordings or concerts.
Certainly Belarsky's music was something that the East Euro-
pean Jew could understand. When Belarsky performed before a
Jewish audience, he did so with an expectation that he would
evoke a particular response when singing about trying times in
the shetl. Whether he was singing in Hebrew or Yiddish,
Belarsky typically sang music that represented what people
recognized as Jewish music: The bibliography section lists the
keys in addition to the titles, authors, composers an arrangers.
Several are followed by, "(AR)." This is a designation for a
Jewish musical mode known as "Ahava Rabba," which has a
strong flavor of Eastern Europe, characteristically utilizing
lowered 2nd and 7th, and raised 3rd scale degree. ..Many songs in
the Ahava Rabba mode are evident not only in Yiddish music but
also in cantorial music, both of which Belarsky ably sang with
knowledge and authority.

The musical strengths that Belarsky demonstrated for
many years as a performer all combined to enhance his reputa-
tion as an artist. In addition to this was Belarsky's skill as a
charismatic performer. It was his presence alone that would
attract nearly a thousand people to a Saturday-night concert at a
Histadrut Foundation event in Miami, Florida. Interestingly, at

these meetings which would attract hundreds of delegates from
around the world, a musical event was considered a natural part
of the activities being offered. That is, while the central reason
for this meeting was not musical, but political, the members of
Histradrut used music as a means for representing themselves as
an ethnic group. In the 1960's and till his death, Belarsky was
the featured performer at the functions of the Histadrut Founda-
tion. Thus we might-ask: what is it about the nature of music
that motivated a Jewish labor organization, a politically-oriented
group, to maintain Yiddish folk music as a central feature of its
annual meeting year after year? To answer this question, it is
essential to understand the importance of song for building
ethnic group identity, particularly in the case of Jews of East
European descent.

Belarsky' s musical artistry displayed and related many
Jewish stories (through the Yiddish folk song) from Eastern
Europe. In addition, the lyrics of Belarsky' s Yiddish folk songs
related much about life there. American Jews wanted to assimi-
late into the American landscape, but they did not wholly reject
certain ethnic expressions, such as music. Yiddish folk song
gave Belarsky the opportunity to transport musically people back
to a time that reflected many different events, including sad and
happy ones. At those concerts in which Belarsky sang Jewish
music, the audience made up of first and second generation
American Jews, recognized the music being sung as Jewish.

Therefore, we can attribute Belarsky' s popularity to

Jewish Americans from the 1930's to 1975, not only to his skill

in Yiddish language and to the musical lyrics of the music, but

also to the musical melody as well.

Conclusion:

Belarsky's Contributions,

Past, Present and Future

In conclusion, I will speculate on a few questions, after
summarizing the major points presented in this paper.

What did Belarsky have to offer to Jewish Americans
from the time he started performing Jewish music in the early
1930's until his death in 1975? Belarsky not only had a rich
musical background, but he had three things that made him

ful as a performer among American Jewish audiences.

First, Belarsky was known for his ability to sing in
Yiddish. Chana Mlotek, referring to Belarsky's skill in Yiddish
folk and art songs notes, "He endowed these songs with the same
understanding, careful diction and artistic interpretation as the
classical repertoire." Not only did Belarsky know and under-
stand the Yiddish language but he had an audience that under-
stood the lyrics, especially the nuances that he would give to the
Yiddish as he would sing. Like all languages, each has its own
idioms and inflections. The Yiddish language is no different.
My recital coach, Cantor Robert Abelson, spent many hours
correcting my Yiddish because pronouncing a word slightly
incorrect can change the meaning or disturb the knowing
(Yiddish-speaking) listener upon hearing the Yiddish mispro-
nounced. Belarsky's strength lay in his understanding of
Yiddish and his ability to sing Yiddish so well. This brought joy
to his audiences who loved to hear their language being pro-
nounced accurately. For those Jews in America, simply having
someone singing in their language was a way of connecting with
their heritage.

Secondly, Belarsky's strength lay in the songs that he
sang. Belarsky usually sang to people who had a strong empathy
with the stories that the Yiddish folk songs told, which were
usually about the East European experience. Belarsky's audi-
ences grew to expect certain types of Jewish music. Many of the
programs that 1 reviewed had songs that were sung year after
year. Jewish audiences hoped to hear songs like "Veulai" and
"Reizele" time and time again. Belarsky was very effective in
touching his audiences who were of the generation that had
experienced life in Eastern Europe, or who had parents originat-
ing from that area.

Thirdly, Belarsky offered musical melodies that were
familiar to his audiences. These musical melodies offered
comfort to his audience because they had a familiar ring to
Jewish Americans. Although Belarsky occasionally sang art
songs and opera, he nevertheless always returned to those
melodies that audiences recognized as being inherently Jewish.

Therefore, Belarsky was able to give his audiences

throughout his career a formidable pres

lyrics, and song - all of which had a strong emotional effect on

the people he sang to for over forty years.

Having stated the chief reason for Belarsky's appeal, I
must raise the question of how Belarsky would be received if he
sang to a group of Jewish Americans, like myself, who do not
know the Yiddish language and who grew up in the 1960's. The
audience that heard Belarsky sing certainly had a better under-
standing of the Yiddish music he sang than the generation of
Jews who were born after World War II. The earlier audience
grew up hearing Yiddish in the home and in the streets, or in the
shtetl. It was not necessary for them to obtain a formal Yiddish
education. Yiddish was a part of them; English was the language
they had to learn and master. For American Jews born later, the

My experience growing up in metro-Detroit is represen-
tative of many others of my generation (children born after
1955). My bubbi, (who was born in the mid 1880's in Russia)
spoke Yiddish, and my father, (who was born in 1926) would
respond in Yiddish. I was never spoken to in Yiddish, and
therefore 1 grew up understanding very little of the language.
Thus, if Belarsky were to sing to an audience of my generation,
though there may be an aesthetic appreciation for singing in
Yiddish, and most likely not a word would be understood. A
translation of the text would be needed, which would diminish
the quality of the performance for the listener because of the
constant need to refer to those notes. As for the lyrics,
Belarsky's singing of the experience of Eastern Europe would
not be totally lost on my generation (with the use of program
notes), especially for those who know their Jewish history.
Nevertheless, being another generation removed from that
experience, does of course dilute the emotional attachment to the
memory of that era. Belarsky's audience had had that experi-
ence, or at least had immediate family members who had
recently come from that "Old World." I myself can appreciate
the history of what is being sung, but I certainly cannot relate to
it like those people who were immigrants in America.

For the most part, Belarsky would only be connecting

with an audience today through one facet: the music. The lyrics
and language would take on a diminished role. Two years ago, I
attended a Purim dinner at a Reform temple in Yonkers, New
York. The people responsible for the dinner hired a cantor who
entertained audiences singing Jewish music, including Yiddish.

The people at the d

e for the most part o 1

/er thirty

yenrs

old. When the cant

sang ir

1 Yiddish, he was gi\

^enonly £

i tepid

response. The audit

:n«

: did i

lot understand what

he was s

inging,

and there was not a

pr

ogram

with the translations

in Englisl

When he sang some

thi

rig funny in Yiddish, he wc

mid have

to

translate into Englis

.h,

and th(

i humor usually was

lost in thi

translation. The mi

:, howc

;ver, still transcended the lyric

Music has a language that needs no translation, and therefore
Belarsky's fine musical ability to sing Yiddish folk songs and
Hasidic music could continue to have a strong effect on today's
Jewish Americans.

Belarsky's role in Jewish America from 1930 to 1975 is
one that will remain enduring so long as each generation of Jews
takes on the responsibility of singing the Yiddish folk song. As a
cantorial student at the College-Institute, I have been taught
traditional forms of liturgical music, classical styles of Reform
music, as well as Yiddish music. The message implied at HUC-
JIR is to maintain the tradition of singing music that has been
sung for centuries.

We are indeed fortunate to have people alive who are
determined to keep parts of the Jewish heritage alive. Belarsky's
daughter Isabel is one such person. Through her efforts, one can
either mail order or purchase at music stores recordings by her
father. Isabel Belarsky has taken a few select albums and has
had them transferred to the more accessible listening devices of
cassettes and cd's. Isabel has been instrumental in arranging
concerts in her father's memory to ensure that his music lives on
for future generations.

There is an additional point raised by this study of
Belarsky's popularity related to the music being sung in the
synagogue today. At the College-Institute, cantorial students are
exposed to traditional Jewish music, including cantors such as A.
Katchko and I. Alter, who were considered giants in the field of

hazzanut. As well, we study the finest in classical Reform
music, such as L. Lewandowski, S. Sulzer, A. W. Binder, etc.
The College-Institute assumes their music to be of the highest
quality. We also learn about contemporary Jewish composers
who write cantorial music based on traditional musical modes,
including S. Richard, B. Steinberg, and S. Adler. Students are
given a subtle message that contemporary American Jewish folk
music being written is somewhat beneath the quality of the
music that we are learning at the College-Institute. American
Jewish folk music usually does not have the same high musical
quality because the music tends to be written more simply, and
the music itself usually does not have a relationship to the
traditional music forms that other composers would apply in
their compositions. Nevertheless, this music, which some people
tend to call "camp music," has become popular in Reform
temples around the country, usually because the congregation

trying to sing this folk-style music and balancing it with the
traditional modes of music. The composer and teacher, Samuel
Adler, states his position on this phenomenon quite clearly: The
problem today, however, is that rather than meeting the chal-
lenge by enlisting our very finest talents in the creation of new
religious sounds and then educating the sensibilities of our
congregants, we have succumbed to the voice of ease and
surrendered to the spirit of populism. Thus our time does indeed
differ from similar periods of the past, precisely in the fact that
sacred sound has buckled under the stress of the secular chal-
lenge, producing the melting down or congealing of
two sounds into one single musical entity that we might affec-
tionately call spiritual entertainment, and that sounds suspi-
ciously like a Broadway musical, or television sound tracks.

I believe Adler is somewhat harsh in his analysis of this
music and that there is room for a more positive outlook. My
study of Sidor Belarsky has shown that the singing of simple
Yiddish folk songs to Jewish audiences could be a highly
moving experience. Belarsky was able to touch the audience
because they understood the language, the music, and related to
the meaning of the text being sung. Though cantors today must

keep the musical traditions of the past alive, why shouldn't
American audiences have the opportunity to have Jewish music
sung that connects with them on all three levels: namely,
English, the text, and the music. Although some of the Ameri-
can Jewish folk music being written today is not as sophisticated
as Lewandowski's or Adler's, it nevertheless has a right to be
sung with pride, elegance and musical quality, just as Belarsky
would sing the Yiddish folk song. It must be remembered, too,
that Belarsky did not only sing the simple Yiddish folk song.
Belarsky sang difficult music, such as Lazar Weiner's composi-
tions, as well as art music and opera.

Belarsky as a teacher, taught his students how to
interpret the songs of Yiddish music. Besides his important
legacy in the musical life of Jewish America during his career,
he also leaves an important message: that singing Jewish music,
whether simple or complex can be meaningful for the listening
audience. But to be effective, and to touch the audiences fully,
one must be able to understand the subtle nuances given by the
performer. Just having an appreciation of the music alone is not
enough; audiences needs to hear the music, as well as to
understand the language in order to connect with the text.
Jewish Americans who move farther and farther from the
experience of Eastern Europe and the language of Yiddish,
deserve to have music sung that will also connect to them, just
like the Yiddish folk song and lyrics did for Belarsky' s audi-
ences. That is why the music of folk music composers of Cantor
Jeff Klepper and Debbie Friedman are being sung today. Not
only do they write musical melodies that audiences recognize as
more modern, but they will sometimes combine Hebrew and
English texts of the liturgy into one song. This insures that the
audience will be able to relate to the music on three levels: the
language (English), the text, and the melody.

It becomes the responsibility of each generation to try
and learn about the Jewish traditions of preceding generations.
Today's and tomorrow's generation must be able to make an
attempt to learn what moved previous Jewish generations.
Though these songs may never touch audiences the way they did
twenty or thirty years ago, we still may have an emotional

attachment to those songs, and they will still be meaningful to us,
though in a different way. I believe this coincides with
Belarsky's wishes. As Belarsky so eloquently puts it in his
introduction to his songbook, "My life has been and continues to
be devoted to discovering, reviving and presenting our exciting
heritage of songs, bringing them to the attention of those of us
who wish to pass them on to succeeding generations.

The rich musical heritage of Yiddish folk music should
not be forgotten. It should be sung to audiences both young and
old. If ever a performer or listener needs to be reminded how to
sing these songs, and how the Yiddish is being pronounced,
interpreted, and sung, all a person would need to do is to listen to
the one of finest examples of the Yiddish folk song performer,
and that is, of course Sidor Belarsky.

APPENDIX I

Sidor Belarsky: A Biographical Chronology

February 22: Sidor Belarsky born Kreshopel, near

Odessa.

Moshe Lifshitz, Belarsky's father, worked as an egg

merchant.

Esther Lifshitz, Belarsky's mother.

Six sisters, all younger then Belarsky: Lisa, Freida,

Fania, Eva, Yulia, Riva.
1910

Acts as a (boy) cantor near Kreshopel.
1913

Accepted to the Odessa Conservatory.
1919

Marries Clarunya Soichet, who lived in the nearby shetl

of Moskivka.

Daughter, Isabel born.
1925 - 1929

Attends State Conservatory in Leningrad.

Belarsky family visits Kreshopel during the summers.
Son born, died shortly after birth, Kreshopel, Russia.
Graduates from the Conservatory.
1926- 1929

Joins Leningrad State Opera Company.

IV H

Dr. Franklin Harris, President of Brigham Young

University hears Belarsky sing at the Leningrad State

Opera, and offers him a position to teach voice at

Brigham Young University, Provo, Utah.

Belarsky's family leaves Russia, traveling to France.

Lives in Paris for three weeks.

Sails to New York on the Auitania.

February 8: Arrives to the United States.

Travels to Provo, Utah to arrange for housing, while

family remained in New York, on Broadway and 145 th

street.

Teaches at Brigham Young University and University

of Utah.

Presents concert at College Hall, Brigham Young

University. Sings in Russian, English, Italian and

German.

June: Granted a six month visa extension.

Travels to Canada, to receive documents in order for

family to remain in the USA under the Canadian

immigration quota.

July 13: His students, give an operatic concert at
College Hall, Brigham Young University.
November 14: Recital at Town Hall, and sings Afro-
American Spirituals. Adversely reviewed by the New
York Evening Post.
April 15: Sings in recital at Carnegie Hall, operatic

Moves to Los Angeles for more professional opportuni
ties, including singing with Los Angeles Philharmonic

Orchestra.

Director Artur Rodzinski responsible for Sidor remov

ing the "I" formerly in his name "ISIDOR."

Sings with the Los Angeles Opera, San Francisco

Opera, Teatro Colon in Buenos Aires, Chicago Civic

Opera.

Founds the American Opera Company of Los Angeles.

Teaches voice in. Los Angeles, and spends summer in

Utah teaching voice.

July 2 1 : The American Opera Company of Los
Angeles is granted a corporate charter by the State of
California, Belarsky named Director General; operas
are in English.

Hayim Greenberg hears Belarsky sing at a banquet and
introduces Belarsky to the Jewish National Alliance and
the International Ladies Jewish Workers.

Belarsky moves to New York to be closer to the Jewish
labor organizations; lives in Washington Heights.
Officiates as a cantor under the name of Lifshitz or

Sings as the cantor for synagogues in South America

and South Africa.

Performs for Jewish organizations, on local stages.

Appears at a banquet with Albert Einstein.

Einstein and Belarsky agree that Einstein would only

accept speaking engagements where Belarsky was

invited to perform.

Performs at Town Hall, New York, NY.

Performs at a secular concert at Town Hall, New York,

April 2 1: Performs in the title role at Mecca Auditorium
in the production of the Ukrainian opera 'Taras Bulba."

April - December: Performs at an all-Russian concert at

Town Hall, New York, NY.

Performs at the International House, singing Russian

music, sponsored by the Slavonic Student Committee,

New York, NY.

Performs a secular concert at Town Hall, New York,

NY.

Performs a concert of Folk Lore and Contemporary
Songs of the U.S.S.R. at Town Hall, New York, NY.

Joins the New York City Opera company.

Sings as Angelotti, in Puccini's "Tosca," and soloist for

Arturo Toscanini in two broadcasts of "Fidelio."

January 8: Performs in a concert at the Carnegie

Chamber Music Hall, sponsored by the Union of

Russian Jews, NY.

Other artists that appear are Marie Maximovitch, Arthur

Balsam, and Mischa Mischakoff.

June 11: Performs at Town Hall, New York, NY,

singing secular, operatic, Hebrew, and Yiddish music,

with pianist, Lazar Weiner.

November 29: Performs at a Hanukah Concert at the

Academy of Music, NY. Molly Picon, Shulamit Silber

of Palestine, Maurice Ganchoff, and Benjamin Zemach

of the Habima sing in concert as well.

January 29: Performs an all-Russian program at
Carnegie Hall, NY.

Performs in a concert for the Labor Zionist Organiza
tion and Histradrut, Chancellors Hall, NY.

Performs the concert version of the opera "Hechalutz"
by Jacob Weinberg in the 6th Festival of Jewish Arts
for the Hechalutz at Carnegie Hall, NY.

Performs in a concert of secular music, Town Hall, NY.

Performs at Ohei Shem Hall, Tel Aviv. Israel.

Performs a concert in Israel.

Performs in a concert of "Songs of Israel," at Carnegie

Hall, NY, pianist, Lazar Weiner.

Additional locales of concerts:

Kimball Hall, Chicago, IL.

Academy of Music, Philadelphia, PA.

Biltmore, Los Angeles, CA.

Philharmonic Auditorium, Los Angeles, CA.

San Francisco, CA.

Detroit, MI.

St. Cecilia Club, Grand Rapids, MI

Saturday Morning Music Club, Tucson, AR.

Agricultural College, Logan, UT.

Travels to Israel in a tour sponsored by the Histadrut.
June 11: Performs in a recital at Town Hall, New York,
NY, pianist, Lazar Weiner.

January 4: Performs secular and Yiddish music, Town

Hall, NY.

February 24: performs at the Twelfth Festival of Jewish

Arts, Carnegie Hall, NY; concert is presented by Jacob

Weinberg and Sidor Belarsky.

September 10: Receives a letter from the South African

Jewish

Orphanage, thanking him for his performance.

April 6, 1952: Performs at Town Hall, NY, sponsored

by the Association To Perpetuate The Memory of

Ukrainian Jews, pianist, Lazar Weiner.

January 4: Performs a concert of opera and secular
music, Town Hall, NY.

April 2: Performs a

music, Town Hall, NY.

February 21: Performs at a Yiddish concert at Town

Hall, NY, in a concert sponsored by the Young Men's
& Young Women's Hebrew Association, pianist, Lazar
Weiner.

1959

March 21: Performs a concert of secular, Hebrew,

and Yiddish Music at Town Hall, New York, New

York, pianist, Ivan Basilevsky.

May 17: Performs a concert at Town Hall, New York,

NY, sponsored by The Women's League of the

National Council of Young Israel.

December 27: Performs at a Hanukkah concert at

Carnegie Hall, singing Hebrew and Yiddish. Also

appearing were Maurice Ganchoff, Abraham

Ellstein (pianist), Lazar Weiner (pianist), Masha Benya.

1959- 1960, World Tour

June 7: Performs at a concert in Melbourne, Australia,
sponsored by the Jewish National Library. Concerts
consist of secular, Yiddish and Hebrew music.
Receives an invitation from the President of Israel
(Zalman Shazar) to sing in Israel.

1960 - 1969

Joins the faculty of the Jewish Teachers Seminary, NY,

coaches students in the art of singing Yiddish music.

Sings as a cantor in Sao Paulo, Brazil for the High

Holidays.

January 9, 1960: Performs a concert at Town Hall,

New York New York, sings Russian, Hebrew, Yiddish;

pianist, Ivan Basilevsky.

Dec. 17/18, 1960: Performs at Town Hall, NY.

Appearing also was Moshe Ganchoff, Vladimir Heifetz,

Lazar Weiner.

March 17, 1963: Performs at a Purim Festival at Town

Hall, New York, NY.

December 15, 1966: Performs at a Hanukkah concert

at Carnegie Hall, NY.

March 3 1, 1968: Performs in a concert of Yiddish

Songs by Soviet Jewish Composers & Poets, at Town

Hall, NY, sponsored by the Congress for Jewish

Culture; pianist, Lazar Weiner.
June 26, 1968: Performs at a cantorial c
Congregation Shaar Hashomayim, Montreal, Canada.
1970- 1975

September 6, 1974: Gives a concert in Sao Paulo,

Brazil.

March 24, 1974: Performs at a concert commemorating

the 30th Celebration of Jewish Music Month, sponsored

by the Congress for Jewish Culture, in cooperation with

the "Friends of the Yiddish Song," Town Hall, NY.

February, 1975: Sings at the Israel Histadrut Founda

tion Conference in Miami, FL.

June 7, 1975: Dies of a heart condition, NY.

This chronology was compiled from the following sources:

Belarsky, Isabel.

Interview by author, 17 November 1994, New York,

New York.

Boin, liana. "An Unusual Rescue, How Brigham Young
President Franklin S. Harris Helped the Jewish Opera Singer
Sidor Belarsky Escape the Soviet Union, 1994." Unpublished
Manuscript, collection of Isabel Belarsky.

Cohen, Jeffrey M, "Bibliography & Discography Of Music By
Sidor Belarsky." Cantors Institute - Seminary College of Jewish
Music, Jewish Theological Seminary of America, New York,

Programs of Sidor Belarsky, collection of Isabel Belarsky.

Strober, Deborah Hart. "Sidor, Clarunya & Isabel A Love
Story," 1985. Unpublished Manuscript, collection of Isabel
Belarsky.

APPENDIX II

Songs that were analyzed

Moyshelech, Shloimelech

Under the Polish green trees

they do not play anymore, little Moses and little Solomon

they don't play anymore, any little Sarahs and little Leahs

You don't hear anymore,

the Jewish voices from the little children

With their little troubles coming in their little world

from their wonders and worlds

There is still sadness in these Polish trees

Dead are the Jewish homes, dead are the streets,

and destroyed are the houses, where the children used to

play, sticking out like little mice.

Jewish children with large big dark eyes.

Full with this tragedy and this disaster, under the Polish green
trees . . .

Der Kremer

There is a poor, modest grocer. Among hundred more on the
street, he sits and he waits for a customer, it is dark and the rain is
like sleet. He sits and he waits for a customer, while his fantasy
is wondrous and sweet.

A government run by our people, A Jewish one, you understand,
everyone there must need to be a genius, only kings may help
govern the land.

And all of the other poor grocers, are watching the deal from the
street, with their eyes they would gladly devour him, full of envy
that's hardly discreet.

All of a sudden a customer, as big as a peanut comes in. He asks
for a cent's worth of herring, and knocks every dream out of him.

Dem Mimer's Trern

While passing by me, the years did try me, I was a miller long
ago. The wheels must always turn, for years we always yearn,
I'm old and gray, that's all I know.

The days will never come back as ever, when I would claim a
little luck. The wheels must always turn, for years we always

yearn, no answer have I ever struck.

The rumors try me, they want to try me, from out the village and
the mill. The wheels must always turn, for years we always
yearn, though endless and without a will.

Where shall I live now, and who will give now a thought to me
so old and dear. The wheels must always turn, for years we
always yearn, and with them till I'll disappear.

Quietly absorbed in thought, is a little hous

There in the attic room

Lives my dear Reizele.

Every evening in front of her little house

I hang around, walk to and fro,

Whistle, and call out: "Reizele,

Come, come, come."

A little window opens,

The old house wakes up,

And soon in the quiet street there rings a s>

Reizele speaks:

Just wait a little while, my love.

Soon I'll be free.

Walk around a few times more,

one, two, three.

I step along happily
Singing and cracking nuts.
I hear her little feet
Tripping down the stairs.
Now she's off the last step,
I embrace her lovingly
I softly kiss her cheek
Come, come, come

I must beg you, Dovidl,

Not to whistle for me again.

"Hear that, he's whistling," cries my mother,

She is pious and it pains her so,

Whistling, she says, is not Jewish,

It only fits for "them."

Just give a sign in Yiddish:

Eyns, tsvey, dray (one, two, three).

From this day on I'll whistle no more,

that 1 swear to you.

For you I would even become religious, my lit

Pious, like your mother.

Every Shabes, attend the little synagogue

Come, come, come.

I believe you, my Dovidl,

I'll knit you a beautiful tephillin-sack

With a Star-of-David on it.

When it's admired in the synagogue,

You must tell them:

"It was knitted by my beloved Reizele."

Come, come, come.

I thank you for your little gift,

I love you so much, Reizele,

I love your mother, I love the little street,

I love your little old house,

I love the cobble-stones near the house

Because you tread on them.

Hear, your mother's already calling, "Reizele,"

her little feet.

Again the house is absorbed in thought,

Again the street is mute.

Come to me in my dreams, Reizele, come, come,

Ergetz Vait (In the Distant Land)

Somewhere far away, lies the land, the forbidder

Silvery is the hill that has not yet had anyone walk

Somewhere there moves deep in the snow, which has been
spread. One cannot find, anyway to this forbidden land.

Dem Zeidn's Broche (Grandfather's Blessing)
When the feast before Kol Nidre came to end, my grandfather
blessed me, laid his hardened hands upon me, drew me close and
so caressed me. Feeling his white robe so near to me, I would
tremble and would listen. And would see how he was weeping,
teardrops on his cheeks would glisten.

Come, my child, to shul with me, God will be most merciful
toward you, be devout, be good and surely with long life God
will reward you. One part of grandfather's blessing was ful-
filled, I say, and therefore, I have lived in endless suffering, but I
don't know why or wherefore.

You meant well, grandfather dearest, but your prayer for me was

no blessing, for your prayer was surely answered, but it proved
to be distressing. Many year, ah yes, 1 have had them, but those

years were filled with sorrows, everyday brings new misfortunes,
In my heart no bright tomorrows.

Yerushalayim

Mount Scopus is here 1 shall stand, to worship God on high,
Jerusalem, may peace be with you, will be our prayer and our
sigh. From generation to generation we dreamed and hoped to
be a nation. Jerusalem. Jerusalem, rebuilt by our strength and
our joy, Jerusalem, Jerusalem, oh city that none can destroy.

Mount Scopus is where I shall stand, while peace is our prayer
anew. A thousand exiles from everywhere are turning eyes to
you, May endless blessings brighten your days, oh holy city
great is your praise! Jerusalem, Jerusalem, I never shall wander
from here, Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the Messiah will surely appear.

Ohm

Through the night the ship is plowing, silently to reach the shore,

listen, land of all my fathers, I return forever more.

Through the night the ship is plowing, hopes to find an open
door, listen, land of all my fathers, I return forever more.

To the land my fathers knew, my brothers all are coming, and
they hear a secret humming: Only this land will do!

BIBLIOGRAPHY

I. Primary

A. Interviews

Belarsky, Isabel.

Interview by author, 17 November 1994, New York,
New York.

Benya, Masha.

Interview by author, 7 November 1994, New York,
New York.

Franco, Loretta Di.

Interview by author, 3 November 1994, New York,
New York.

Fogel, Edward R., Cantor.

Interview by author, 7 November 1994, New York,
New York.

Karen, Kenny.

Interview by author, 24 October 1994, New York, New
York.

Stein, Sol, Dr.

Interview by author, 24 October 1994, New York, New
York.

B. Musical Recordings and Songbooks

Belarsky, Sidor. Hasidic Melodies, Artistic Enterprises, (G8-
OP-7548), New York, 1948, and reprinted on cassette by Isabel
Belarsky, New York, 1986.

Belarsky, Sidor, My Favorite Songs. In collaboration with Louis
Sugarman, English Adaptation by Olga Paul. New York: Tara
Publications, 1951.

Belarsky, Sidor. Sidor Belarsky Sings Select Yiddish Songs,
Artistic Enterprises, (B-l 17) New York, 1964, and reprinted on
cassette by Isabel Belarsky, New York, 1979.

Belarsky, Sidor. Songs by Gebirtig, produced with Congress for
Jewish Culture, Artistic Enterprises, (B-l 15), New York, 1963,
and reprinted on record and cassette by Isabel Belarsky, New
York, 1985.

Belarsky, Sidor, Sidor Belarsky Songbook. Flushing:- 'Yiddish

Belarsky, Sidor. 24 Favorite Yiddish Songs
by Isabel Belarsky, New York, 1984.

Cohen, Jeffrey M, "Bibliography & Discography Of Music By
Sidor Belarsky." Unpublished course paper. Cantors Institute -
Seminary College of Jewish Music, Jewish Theological Semi-
nary of America, New York, 1986.

■ C. Letters

Belarsky, Sidor, to Dr. Franklin S. Harris, 23 June 1934, collec-
tion of Isabel Belarsky. New York, New York.

II. Secondary Sources

Boin, liana. "An Unusual Rescue, How Brigham Young
President Franklin S. Harris Helped the Jewish Opera Singer
Sidor Belarsky Escape the Soviet Union, 1994." Unpublished
manuscript, collection of Isabel Belarsky.

Cassell, Andrew. "When Bob Freedman Began Collecting
Ancient Yiddish Songs, He Accomplished More Than He
Bargained For," Philadelphia Inquirer, 20 December 1992, 22.

Doroshkin, Milton. Yiddish in America, Social and Cultural
Foundations. Teaneck: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press,
1969.

Encyclopedia Judaica, 1971 ed. S.v. "Hayim Greenberg."

Fishman, Joshua A. Yiddish in America: Socio-Linguistic
Description and Analysis. Bloomington: Indiana University,
1965.

Hallo, William W., David B. Ruderman, and Michael

Stanislawski, eds., Heritage. Civilization and the Jews. New
York: Praeger, 1984.

Herman, Lee M. "A Concert In Tribute to Sidor Belarsky,"
Jewish Week, 23 May 1984, 21.

Hertzberg, Arthur. The Jews In America, Four Centuries of an
Uneasy Encounter: A History. New York: Simon & Schustei

Hoffman, Lawrence A. and Janet R. Walton, eds., Sacred Sound
and Social Change: Liturgical Music in Jewish and Christian
Experience.

Notre Dame and London: University of Notre Dame
Press. 1992.

Howe, Irving. World Of Our Fathers. New York and London:
, 1976.

Idelsohn, A.Z. Jewish Music In Its Historical Development.
New York: Schocken Books, 1967.

Kugalmass, Jack, ed., Between Two Worlds, Ethnographic
Essays On American Jewry. Ithaca and London: Cornell
University Press, 1988.

Mendes-Flohr, Paul R., and Jehuda Reinharz, eds., The Jew In
The Modem World, A Documentary History. New York and
Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1980.

Moore, Deborah Dash. At Home in America, Second Genera-
tion New York Jews. New York: Columbia University Press,

Rubin, Ruth. Voices of a People, The Story of Yiddish
Folksong. New York: McGraw-Hill Book Company, 1973.

Provo Daily Herald, "Daughter of Opera Star To Be Welcomed

At Y ." 2 September 1980.

Seltzer, Robert M. Jewish People, Jewish Thought. New York:
Macmillan Publishing Co., Inc., 1980.

Sklare, Marshall. Observing America's Jews. Hanover:
Brandeis University Press, 1993.

Slobin, Mark. Tenement Songs. Chicago: University of
Illinois Press. 1982.

Strober, Deborah Hart. "Sidor, Clarunya & Isabel - A Love
Story," 1985. Unpublished manuscript, collection of Isabel
Belarsky.

Weinreich, Uriel, ed., The Field of Yiddish. Studies in Lan-
guage, Folklore, and Literature. London and Paris: Mouton &
Co., 1965.

Weiss, Ray. "Ethnic Harmony." Gannet Suburban Newspapers.
10 February 1995, 1(C).

HERBERT FROMM 19051995: A RECOLLECTION

By Cantor Murray E. Simon

I met Dr. Herbert Fromm when I came to Boston in 1972 as the first
Cantor in Temple Israel's century-plus history. Herbert Fromm had retired
as Organist/Choir Director/Music Director/Composer-In-Residence after
more than three decades of service to New England's largest Jewish
congregation.

I remember him as a lean and lanky man with a jutting jaw who would
always come to the Temple in his long, flowing, tweed topcoat - no matter
what the temperature. He usually carried with him a black lunch box to his
study in the basement of the religious school wing - much like a day laborer
going to his job. He came to work every day, even in his retirement, for his
retirement "freed" him to work even more diligently plying his "trade" as
a musical craftsman. His study was lined with books from the floor to the
ceiling for he was a very literary person. Words meant just as much to him
as musical notes. Many people don't realize that he would have been just
as happy being an author or a poet - such was his gift with the use of words
-be it in his native German, English or Hebrew. You should treat yourself
to reading one (or all) of his three published books. They are inciteful,
endearing and charming for he was a truly gifted writer and linguist.
Herbert was an insomniac and every afternoon between the hours of 1 to
3 pm, he would draw the window shades and lie down on his couch in his
study at an attempt to nap. He was sometimes given to bouts of depression,
yet he was a man with a broad, deep laugh and a wonderfully dry sense of
humor.

Herbert Fromm was born in Kitzingen am Main, Germany in 1905 into
a family of vintners. Herbert's twin brother, Alfred, who lives in San
Franciscocontinues the family tradition with his association with the well-
known Fromm/Sichel wine company. Herbert held a master's degree in
music from the State Academy of Music in Germany where he studied
composition, conducting, piano and organ. Upon graduation, he became
conductor at the Civic Theatres of Bielfeld and Wurzburg. He met his
beloved and devoted wife, Leni (Steinberg), an accomplished actress on
the German stage sixty years ago and they shared fifty-three years of
married life together as an inseparable "team". Driven from Germany by

CANTOR MURRAY E. SIMON succeeded Dr. Herbert Fromm as Music Director of
Temple Israel, Boston in 1972 - a position he held for eleven years. He currently serves
Temple Reyim, Newton, MA as hazzan and is a member of the Executive Council and
Chairman of the New England Region of the Cantors Assembly.

the Nazis in 1937, Leni and Herbert settled in this country where Herbert
became the organist and choir director of Temple Beth Zion in Buffalo,
N.Y. From 1941 until 1972, he served Temple Israel of Boston where and
from whom much of his prodigious out-put of music was composed.
(Oddly enough, Herbert Fromm always shunned the use of the ahavah
rabbah mode as he considered it undignified and of questionable taste.) He
served the larger Jewish community as a founder and artistic advisor for
much of the thirty-five year existence of The New England Jewish Forum.
Herbert Fromm received an honorary doctorate of human letters from
Lesley Coliege and was honored by the Hebrew College of Brookline, MA
for his life-time achievement in the field of Jewish music.

He was the author of three books: "The Key of See - Travel Journey of
a Composer", "Seven Pockets" and "Herbert Fromm on Jewish Music • A
Composer's View."

There were many significant relationships to Herbert From that bear
mentioning. The famous psychologist, Dr. Erich Fromm was a cousin.
Herbert's other brother, Paul, founded the Fromm Foundation which is an
internationally recognized organization to further and support modern
music. Herbert's mother died when Herbert was only fifteen and his father
remarried. A relation to Herbert's step-mother was the famous Jewish
scholar, Dr. Nahum Glatzer. Herbert was very close in Germany with the
recognized cantor and composer, Hugo Chaim Adler. When they both
settled in Massachusetts (Adler in Worcester as Cantor of Temple Emanuel
and Fromm in Boston), they resumed their close relationship. Before Hugo
Adler's untimely death at the age of sixty-two, he asked Herbert to "look
after" his son, "Sammy". Thereby, Dr. Samuel Adler became a student of
Herbert's and an "god-son" to the Fromms. Their very close relationship
has continued over the years. It was through the efforts of Sam Adler that
Herbert's musical library has been given to the Jewish Theological
Seminary's Jewish music library as a major addition. On February 10,
1995, Sam Adler conducted a special service and concert at Temple Israel,
Boston, in celebration of Herbert's ninetieth birthday. Unfortunately,
Herbert was too ill and weak to attend this special tribute attended by more
than six hundred of his friends and admirers. He and our older daughter,
Rachel, shared the same birthday (February 23rd) and we always shared
birthday greetings on that occasion. This year, he was in the hospital when
I went to see him to wish him well and he stated that he was prepared to
accept the inevitable. In his own inimitable way with words he said simply
"My difficulties outweigh my strength." He died peacefully at home on
Friday, March 10, 1995 at 10:30 p.m. with his beloved Leni at his side as
she was throughout his life.

With the passing of Dr. Herbert Fromm, we witness the diminution of
an era of great synagogue composers of the twentieth century such as
Lazare Saminsky, Lazar Winer, Isadore Freed, Max Helfman and A. W.
Binder among others. We were privileged to have been enriched by their
genius and their devotion to beautifying the music and worship of the
American Jewish synagogue of the twentieth century. They may be gone,
but their creative legacy will live on after them. I would like to conclude
with a quote from a paper wrote which was included in his book, "Herbert
Fromm on Jewish Music: A Composer's View". He wrote: " A liturgical

of the masses. He should remember a commandment seen as inscription
on many of our Torah shrines: Da lifhey mi attah omeyd - Know before
whom you stand". Five words. Five fingers of a pointing hand." Herbert
Fromm always followed the direction of that pointing hand. Zecher

tsaddik livracha.

THE AVODAH SERVICE ■ A FRESH INSIGHT INTO
AN ANCIENT LITURGY

By MISHA PISMAN

There is a brilliant moment in "The Trojan Women" by
Euripides in which Hecuba, a woman who has lost everyone and
everything she ever loved, fights against her ravaging despair. She
cries, "I will remember good days gone by, days to make the heart
sing." A deliberate act of will, a summoning up of nostalgia for what

Avodah.

Why must we remember? What useful purpose does this serve?

The text begins with a lyrical description of how we came to be
created. God's qualities are joyously extolled. From nothingness God
brings forth all that is, Adam, Eve and our original guilt are cited.
Cain, Abel, Noah, the Tower of Babel, Abraham and his sacrifice are
mentioned. There is a litany of man's corruption and willfulness. The
sacrificial cult in the Temple is described in minute detail. The role of
the High Priest is lovingly recited, culminating in Ben Sira's explo-
sively expressive image of the radiance of his face. A long lamentation
follows which struggles to find its own closure.

Intrinsic to the entire exercise of remembrance is regret at what we
have lost: once we were created, beloved and chosen by God; once we
had our Temple; once we were able to send a scapegoat out into the
desert and have our sins washed away; once we were one nation. One
can imagine American Indians at the turn of the century, dispersed and
exiled, lamenting the moment that they lost harmony with and were
abandoned by the Great Spirit.

We have sinned. Now that there is no Temple how can we find
forgiveness? We will remember and, in our deliberate act of re-
imagining the "old days", we will remind God about us and our well
being. We will beg Him to look with favor on our coming year. If we
wail long and hard enough about how much we miss our days of glory
and unity perhaps God will hear us and bless us anew.

We no longer have an actual sacrificial cult to expiate our sins. In
its absence we use the recitation of the acts and blessings as a means in

MISHA PISMAN, currently serving the Wantaugh Jewish Center, is scheduled to
graduate from the Cantors Institute of the Jewish Theological .Seminary of America in
May. 19 1 1 I II' i| a i I I mi I In 1 the D

of Awe. The paper was entitled "Avodah."

which to, first of all, place ourselves and our relationship to God in the
context of the unfolding of all of human history. Rather than simply
recite the ritual, we place ourselves inside of a cosmological and
historical framework. This serves a socio-political function in that an
exiled and dispersed nation can experience unity only through holding
a common memory. One way to embrace greater power is to remind
oneself that one is not alone. The common cultural memory thus
becomes a vehicle for religious restoration. The memory itself engen-

The act of remembrance and the concomitant nostalgia can also
result in spiritual catharsis. Ritual can serve to make one feel better. It
can be argued that to individually emotionally transform is a higher
form of spirituality than simply expecting the sacrificial cult to take
care of it. This marks a significant stage of growth in spiritual develop-
No longer is the High Priest at the Temple responsible for asking
for forgiveness. We ourselves, individually and collectively, acknowl-
edge our guilt and beg for forgiveness. We actively participate in the
lamentations and requests. At the Temple virtually the entire nation
would arrive for the one service and the High Priest was the active
agent in the sacrificial ritual. Today there is an individual cantor and
an individual community, each member of which has the responsibility
to participate physically, mentally emotionally and spiritually.

It is as if we have moved from the "macro" level to the "micro".
Formerly the High Priest was the actor for the entire nation. Today,
like individual atoms, each Avodah service lives in both the macro (the
people of Israel) and micro (our subjective experience) level in each
one of us,

Our sincerity of intention, our regret at our failures, our admission
Of guilt and our deepest wishes and desires for self realization and
mitzvah and greater goodness in the coming year — all of those are
actively present. They form the experience. The service is as rich and
meaningful as we choose to make it.

Just as each individual cell in our bodies carries our complete
genetic information, the text Of the Avodah service can be seen as a
literary jewel reflecting the totality of Jewish experience: Who we are;
where we came from; our relationship with our Creator; our best and
our worst. Guilt and repentance, nostalgia and remorse come from our
relationship with our Creator — everything is present — even the
Holocaust, It is a strange irony that the word "holocaust" at one time
simply referred to a burnt offering but today evokes the deepest anguish

over our unspeakable tragedy.

One could also place this text into the structure of a three act
drama. Act one is the Admission of Guilt (Avodah). Act two is the
Formal Request for Forgiveness (Selihot) and Act three is the Act of
Confession (Vidui). This is a formal process of purification and
healing. We are sick and filled with sin. The first step toward a cure is
to admit that we have a problem. The second step is to formally
request the proper medication and finally through our act of confession
we achieve healing or atonement.

Konstantin Sargeyevich Stanislevsky (Alekseyev) once remarked
that if you see a rifle on the wall in the first act, it must be fired in the
third act. There cannot be arbitrary or accidental events. Everything
exists within the play by means of its own logic. By the same token,
the admission of guilt in the Avodah service must logically result in the
confession in the Vidui. Everything in the liturgy has its proper place
in relationship to its specific interior logic. For example, in the Musaf
for Rosh Hashana in the middle b'rakha we have three additional
sections; Malkhuyot, Zikhronot and Shofarot. These describe God's
Kingship, Remembrance and the Glory of Revelation. These three acts
of the Rosh Hashana drama appropriately sanctify this day and logi-
cally take place in Kiddushat Hayom. On Yom Kippur we have three
other acts (Avodah, Selihot and Vidui) that also appropriately sanctify
this day and are similarly properly placed.

Originally the liturgy was a simple recitation of what the High
Priest did in the Temple. We have seen how the physical act of
sacrifice was transformed into a psychological and emotional event of
remembrance. We have seen how the creation description was added
and how this served to place the Jews historically and cosmologically.
The request section is also very interesting in that it is a further
indication of the movement toward more active participation by the
individual. Rather than inactive witnesses, the community creates the
requests, The requests reflect the cares and concerns of the people who
voice them. The requests basically form another type of history of

Finally, with regard to the nostalgia of the text, it would be good to
return to Hecuba for a moment. Confronted with the death of her
children and the rest of her life in ashes she is grief stricken to the point
of death. There is no more reason to live if life is loveless. In an act of
tremendous courage and determination she furies herself to remember
that she was once happy so that she won't give into her own despair.
She keeps herself physically alive through the act of remembrance.

In the Avodah the people of Israel also use nostalgia in order to
survive, but this survival is more in the spiritual dimension, By
remembering the "days gone by" the attempt is to try to survive in spite
of sin. By remembering the days of the High Priest and God's special
relationship with His people there is an assumption that, if the remem-
brance is pure enough and sincere enough, sin will be forgiven and God
will grant blessings for the year to come. The purpose of remembrance
is atonement or, "at/ one/ment". Yom Kippur results in forgiveness
and unity between God and His chosen people.

BOOK REVIEW:

THE BASSANOS: VENETIAN MUSICIANS AND
INSTRUMENT MAKERS IN ENGLAND, 1531-1665

Reviewed By Jeffrey nussbaum

The Bassanos: Venetian Musicians and Instrument Makers in
England, 1531-1665 by David Lasocki with Roger Prior. Published by
Scolar Press (1995) (Gover House, Croft Road, Aldershot, Hampshire
GUI I 3BR, England). (US Distributor: Ashgate Publishing Co., Old
Post Road, Brookfield, VT 05036). ISBN 85967 9438.288 pages.

Drawing on his 1983 PhD dissertation as well as on ground-
breaking research that has been conducted during the last decade,
David Lasocki has produced an intriguing and first rate publication on
the English branch of one of music's most distinguished families. Of
particular interest to readers of this lournal is the fact that the Bassanos
were Jewish musicians and their journey to England is a fascinating tale
that has been discovered largely through the musicological detective
work of Lasocki, Prior and a few others working in this field.
Although England has the dubious distinction of being the first Euro-
pean country to expel the Jews in 1290, King Henry VIII brought the
Bassanos to become members of his Royal Musical Court in 153 1,
shortly after which they returned to Italy only to return again to settle in
England permanently in 1538-40. In the 1530s six Bassano brothers .
Jacomo, Alvise, Anthony, John, Jasper and Baptista went to England.
Jacomo, perhaps the eldest, returned to Venice, but the other five
remained in England to establish the musical dynasty that influenced
the entire English music scene for generations. Both Italian and English
branches of the family were distinguished instrument makers, wind
players (cornetto, trombone, recorder) and also composed music.
Lasocki presents the history of the family through several generations
and includes information about their arrival to England, family history

community. Because of this rather unusual move, and no doubt with
the help of the Bassanos, other Italian Jewish musical families, such as
the Lupos, and Comys, came to England where they soon dominated
the Royal Musical Court of England. Of course, their Jewishness was

JEFFREY NUSSBAUM is the President and founder of the Historic Brass Society and also
has an on-going interest in early Jewish music. He performs in numerous ensembles on the
cornetto and natural trumpet and teaches music in the New York City school system

well hidden but Lasocki and Prior put together many bits of informa-
tion that lead to a clear conclusion.

One of the more intriguing hypothesis about why the Bassanos
were invited to England in the first place involves King Henry VIII. It
seems that Henry needed theological support for his divorce from
Catherine of Aragon to marry Anne Boleyn and it is known that he
sought advice from several Venetian Rabbis. The view is presented here
that his bringing the Jewish musical family may, indeed, be closely
related to his needing Jewish support. While, as is stated in the book,
there is no single piece of surviving evidence that conclusively proves
that the Bassanos were Jewish, Lasocki and Prior present many credible
conjectures that rather solidly uphold their view. Some of the evidence
was presented in Prior's 1983 article, "Jewish

Musicians at the Tudor Court," where he solves a series of "coded
names" which clearly point to Jewish roots.

Another Jewish aspect dealt with in the book is Roger Prior's
chapter, "Was Emilia Bassano the Dark Lady of Shakespeare's Son-
nets?". Prior, a Senior Lecturer in English at Queens University,
Belfast, presents a thorough analysis of Shakespeare's "Dark Lady"
sonnets as well as the M er chant of Venice in which the character
Bassanio plays an important role. With the clear picture of Emilia
Bassano that is drawn from information painstakingly unearthed by the
authors, Prior takes the reader, step by step through these poems
explaining the indisputable similarities between Emilia and the person

Another, and most recent interesting bit of information in the
saga of the Bassano family concerns Peter Goodwin, a professional
musician, Head of Brass at the Royal College of Music, London and
one of the leading sackbut players today. While researching his family
tree Peter Goodwin discovered that he is descended from the famous
Bassano family. That, before Goodwin discovered his Bassano
ancestry, he had already dedicated his professional musical life to
Renaissance and Baroque music and played the same instrument that
his famous kinsmen performed over three centuries ago, is a remark-
able coincidence, to say the least. In 1994 Goodwin changed his name
to Peter Bassano and has gone on to further research the Bassanos as
well as actively perform and record surviving Bassano compositions.

While the amount of information the book presents is rather
daunting, it is not just a series of dry facts, for Lasocki draws a vivid
picture of the Bassanos, placing them in the context of musical life of
the time. This book is an important contribution to the study of both
Jewish music as well as the larger Western musical tradition.

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