Cantors Assembly Journal of Synagogue Music

Journal

Synagogue
Music

The Journal of Synagogue Music
Vol. 29, No. 1, Summer/Fall 2003
ISSN 0449-5128

Copyright ©2003, the Cantors Assembly. All Rights Reserved.

Design and Layout by Prose & Con Spirito, Inc.
Cover Design by Florette Kupfer.

j Journal of Synagogue Music

I Vol. 29 No. 1, - Summer/Fall 2003

t Editorial Remarks

{ Articles }
On the Placement of Hebrew Accents

Boa?: Tarsi

Arnold Schoenberg and Ahad Ha' Am

Joshua Jacobson

{ Notes }
A Note on the Vocation of the Cantor

Scott M. Sokol

{ Reviews }

The Musical Tradition of the Eastern
European Synagogue bj Shofcm KaUb

Jerome B. Kopmar

{ New Music }

V'ShamrU #2 For the CA/ACC Israel Mission, November 2002
Richard M. Berlin

Editorial Board

Hazzan Dr. Scott M. Sokol, Editor

Hazzan Neil Blumofe & Hazzan Richard Berlin, Associate Editors

Hazzan Ira Bigeleisen, Hazzan Dr. Gerald Cohen, Dr. Marsha Bryan
Edelman, Hazzan Stephen Freedman, Dr. Joshua Jacobson, Hazzan Dr. Daniel
Katz, Hazzan Dr. Joseph Levine, Hazzan Dr. Laurence Loeh, Hazzan Dr. Brian
Mayer, Hazzan Eugene Rosner, Hazzan Robert Scherr, Hazzan Dr. Saul Wachs
and Hazzan Sam Weiss

Editorial Remarks

Hazzan Scott M. Sokol
Hazzan Neil Blumofe

Shanah Tovah! This issue of the Journal of Synagogue Music opens with
an important article by Boaz Tarsi on the pronunciation of Hebrew for
the purpose of prayer chant. In it, Professor Tarsi attempts to redirect
misperceptions about the authenticity of certain pronunciation schemes
over others. He provides a conceptual framework with which the hazzan
can make motivated decisions about particular performance practices based
on appreciation of both musical and linguistic factors.

Joshua Jacobson offers an intriguing article that attempts to unpack
the priest/prophet dialectic of Moses and Aaron through consideration
and analysis of the works of Arnold Schoenberg and Ahad Ha' am. Scott
Sokol offers a thought-piece on the vocation of the cantor, inspired in
part by the writings of Abraham Joshua Heschel.

In our review section, Jerome Kopmar discusses the first volumes of
what many expect will become instant classics of Jewish musicology: Sholom
Kalib's writings on the musical traditions of the Eastern European syna-
gogue. Finally in our new music section, Richard Berlin shares a recent
setting of V'Shamru for cantor and four-part chorus.

Once again, the editors are particularly indebted to Hazzan Berlin for
his professional work on typesetting the journal. In recognition of this
and other contributions, we are pleased to announce that Hazzan Berlin
has been named an associate editor of the journal. We would also like to
thank Tony Finno for his help with the musical examples in Professor
Tarsi's article, and Florette Kupfer for her cover design.

Instructions for Contributors

The Journal of Synagogue Music publishes articles, notes and music of
broad interest to the hazzan and other Jewish musical professionals. Ar-
ticles of any length will be considered; however, the typical paper will be
between 1,000 and 10,000 words. The Journal of Synagogue Music is peer-
reviewed by its editorial board and outside reviewers as needed.

Submissions should be sent to either Hazzan Neil Blumofe or Hazzan
Scott Sokol. Two typed hard-copies should be sent along with an elec-
tronic copy. We can accept most electronic formats including Word for
Macintosh or Windows (Windows preferred), Wordperfect, Dagesh or
Davkawriter for Windows, or Mellel Hebrew Writer for Macintosh. Musi-
cal submissions should be sent as high-quality camera-ready copy, and as a
Sibelius, Finale, or MIDI file. Please contact Hazzan Richard Berlin for
any additional questions regarding format for submissions.

Hazzan Scott Sokol

Congregation Kehillath Israel

384 Harvard Street, Brookline, MA 02446.

E-mail: hazzan@congki.org

Hazzan Neil Blumofe

Congregation Agudas Achim, PO Box 28400, Austin, TX 78755.

E-mail: hazzan@caa-austin.org

Hazzan Richard Berlin

Parkway Jewish Center, 300 Princeton Drive, Pittsburgh, PA 15235

E-mail: hazzanrick@earthlink.net

Requests for reprints or subscriptions should be sent to: Cantors Assembly, 3080
Broadway, Suite 613, New York, NY 10027, or send an e-mail to caoffice@jtsa.edu.

On the Placement of Hebrew Accents

Correct, Hypercorrect, Necessary and Unnecessary
Adjustments of Hebrew Accentuation in the
Synagogue — the Musical Considerations
by Boaz Tarsi

A fewyears ago, quite by coincidence I found a cassette tape with a recording
of a Jewish choral group singing Lewandowski's "Mazkir Neshamot, Chore
zur Seelenfeier" (Psalm 103, 15-17 "Enosch"). 1 This performance included a
variety of rhythmical and metrical changes applied to Lewandowski's piece
for what can only seem to be a wish to follow Modern Hebrew accentuation.
Here, for example, is how the opening phrase in this recording sounds:

Obviously the departures from the original score were an attempt to
accord with contemporary pronunciation. Whether such alterations are
acceptable or necessary will be addressed later below. Let us first examine
the effect these changes impose on the very essence of the composition.
Clearly, the changes result in a significant distortion of the rhythm. In

rah, Zweiter Teil: Festgesange, Frankfurt: J. Kauffm

1

., 1921, pp. 260-262.

and of itself this modification alone is problematic, especially when the
change is so drastic, not any less disturbing in fact, than changing the
notes of the melody or a harmonic progression. But beyond the surface of
such rhythmic changes there lurks a concomitant series of other undesired
effects of considerable musical and compositional impact. In addition to
important questions of performance practice this tampering causes
esthetical aberrations that strain at the very core of the content and
expressive integrity of the piece.

The alterations as reflected in the recording take Lewandowski's
rhythmically balanced pattern — which is also a pure syllabic setting (where
each syllable corresponds with one note) — and turns it into a rhythmically
unbalanced random mixture of sets of faster recitation followed by a
melisma. 2 The regular rhythmic pattern not only becomes irregular, the
phrase adopts a pick-up that is not part of the original (perhaps even with
an eighth-note rest in the beginning). Consonants and vowels are assigned
to notes other than the ones originally designated — for example, the
expressive accented quarter note on YO of the word jomow 3 becomes an
eighth-note upbeat on the lower note before the one in the original setting.
The central substance of the piece's thematic material — its initial motif—
loses one of its essential components, the rhythmic parameter, and with it
are lost the repetition and acceleration — the manner in which the motif
organically develops into a phrase and into a theme.

Another crucial element, the one eighth-note rest at the opening gesture
(third beat of the first sung measure) is omitted. Not only does this omission
distort the dramatic, expressive gesture of the original opening, it is in
essence equivalent to eliminating a note or a chord. In addition, and as an

2 See also discussion of the "Zimmerman effect" below.

3 Text quoted from the piece is spelled as it appears in the original manuscript. Note that
in addition to the German Ashkenazi transliteration, Lewandowski uses the letter "r" for
the sound of "TS" on the words "Ic'tsits" and "yotsits." On the other hand, the standard
German transliteration (using the letter "z" for this sound) is used on the same words
during the reprise (p. 262.) In addition, on the word "ruach" (p. 260) the sound of "Resh"
is represented by the letter "z." It therefore follows that, in all likelihood, these are
typographical errors and not a transliteration mode. Seth Adelson, a cantorial student at
JTS, pointed out to me that all of these errors might be explained as a consistent mix up
between the letters "z" and "r."

2

overall outcome, the repetitive pattern of combining trochaic and dactylic
meter ( A - - A - A - - A - A - - A -) is completely lost. With it also disappears the
characteristic sigh-like opening, consisting of two notes, one accented and
the other a release, which is echoed again on the words jomow and jozits
(with a secondary reflection on hassode), whose expressive lament-like
softness is replaced by harsh jumpy upbeats. Another loss is the rhyme
effect that results from the accented note of both gestures taking the same
vowel sound (Ashkenazi O) and even the Y that precedes it. In the adjusted
version only the first one is on this vowel whereas the second is on I (of
jozits.) Even the change from a sigh-like motif on YO to a short melisma
on TSI takes away from the emotional content of the gesture. It also
interferes with the consistency of having the accent fall on the S/TS and Y
sounds, symmetrically set in the (also disturbed) dactylic/trochaic
combination: "..JO-mow Ic'- ZITS ha- SSO -de ken JO-zits." Finally, among the
significant results of these departures from Lewandowski is an eradication
of one of the most important features of his composition — its built-in
invocation of a Marcia Funebre.

Thus it seems for the case in point that changes motivated by a desire to
adhere to Modern Hebrew accentuation not only completely change a
given piece, they create a version of it that is significantly inferior. The
immediate question, therefore, is whether more is lost than gained from
these changes. The question that is bound to follow is whether such
alterations, in this instance at least, are necessary at all, considering the
style in which the piece is written, what it represents, and more significantly,
the context and function of any given specific performance circumstance.
The answer to both questions is, in all likelihood, no.

First and foremost, in circumstances other than religious services there
does not seem to be a practical need to refrain from the Ashkenazi patterns
of accentuation. This touches on the second consideration as to the extent
to which music by composers such as Lewandowski, Sulzer, or Naumbourg
constitutes the closest available approximation of a "classical Jewish music"
style, and comprises a core canon of an Ashkenazi music repertoire. If
there exists such a style and core repertoire, then constitutional musical
components, such as pitch, melody, harmony, rhythm, and meter in pieces
from this repertoire should not be tampered with, in the same manner as
3

one would not alter these components in the compositions of Mendelssohn
or Schubert. 4 In effect, the place of Lewandowski's piece within this genre
and the status of its composer being among its most highly valued
representatives requires that its performance retain its essential variables,
Ashkenazi accentuation and all. 5

But these requirements do not cease to apply when the piece takes place
in a real prayer service at the synagogue. What reinforces this view in this
case is also the fact that within a prayer service the subject composition
cannot be presented or perceived as anything but a closed, distinctly separate
unit. Its being a choral setting, and as such an accompanied piece, with no
cantor participation, and in all likelihood performed in festive or semi-
festive circumstances, in which a concert-derived, or concert-style section
is not inappropriate, further supports this departure from the currently
accepted practice at a synagogue service. But if any such factors are deemed
insufficient to justify performing the piece in a service as originally
intended, including keeping its meter and rhythm intact, then I believe
that perhaps a different piece should be chosen in its stead, at least for this
particular circumstance.

Recently a cantorial student approached me with the following dilemma.
Performing J. Sussman's melody for "~Nish.rn.at Kol Chai" at a synagogue
service, she encountered critical comments about how she applied the
melody to the text, for instance on the word "melech." The score I examined
does not reach this far into the text. A long-play record included a version
in which the melody is applied to this text in the following manner: 6

Example 2

4 The choice of these two composers from the canon of the Romantic era in Europe is
not coincidental: I am invoking Hugo Weisgal's often-expressed paradigm that places
Sulzer as the Jewish classic equivalent parallel with Schubert, and Lewandowski with
Mendelssohn.

5 This does not necessarily imply that we should also retain all the other characteristics of

Granted, this musical rendering of the word is problem-free so far as
accentuation is concerned. Nevertheless, having encountered the criticism,
the student asked if changing it to the following would ensure proper
accentuation:

Example 3

Obviously the accent in her proposal is correct, but it is both unneces-
sary and distorts the rhythm and upsets the flow of the phrase. Moreover,
it introduces an uncharacteristic, Czardash-like pattern of sixteenth note
followed by a dotted eighth note on the word melech. Nevertheless, even as
she chose this hypercorrect way of pronouncing the word, a member of
the congregation, who considered herself a knowledgeable authority on
Hebrew pronunciation corrected her in turn, by demonstrating the "cor-
rect" variant. In fact, this variant is an example of the kind of adjustment
that resorts to crude imitation of the accentuation as utilized in the per-
formance practice of biblical cantillations, by saving the entire melisma
for the accented syllable only: '

Example 4

Ashkenazi dialect — those that do not affect the musical factors — such as using the "O"
vowel for all cases of Kamats, or using "S" for Tav without a Dagesh etc., as discussed
below. These pronunciation modes cannot be supported by the arguments that our
discussion presents and may be considered to border on mannerism.

6 A Call to Remember: Sacred Song of the High Holy Days, The Hebrew Art Chamber
Singers, Tziporah H. Jochsberger (no date indicated.)

7 This will be addressed in more detail later below. Also see discussion of the "Zimmerman
effect" and examples 14, 15, 18.

Therein lies an excellent type-specimen of correcting, overcorrecting, and
making choices that result in unmusical rendering where no change should
have been introduced in the first place. Regardless of whether one needs
to adjust the Hebrew to modern pronunciation in this setting at all, the
original setting is correct. The second variant (Example 3) is an over-
correction, and the third (Example 4) really constitutes a manneristic
manipulation, which does not provide an improvement on the accentuation
but really only flags a statement about the performer's (or in this case, the
other member's) critical awareness of correct pronunciation.

As suggested earlier, part of the initial consideration whether to make
any accentuation adjustments has to do with the piece at hand, with the
understanding that set pieces, especially those from the classical Jewish
canon, should be performed as composed even within a synagogue service.
Thus in such pieces the solution is easy — we keep them intact and perform
them as they were initially composed, keeping the composer's specific
instructions as reflected in his notation, with no adjustments or alterations.
The benefit of not having to ponder such considerations is also available
in cases from the other extreme of the freedom spectrum: improvised or
semi-improvised synagogue music in which we have complete liberty to
mold the musical aspects as we please. Obviously because the music itself
is free, prayer leaders may have complete discretion over the pronunciation
and accentuation of the words, and therefore we can assume that all words
would be pronounced with correct accentuation.

But in the broad middle of the variation spectrum, a prerogative to be
exempt from making musical adjustments to the Hebrew does not apply.
Most congregational tunes, given settings, written arrangements of
traditional material, semi-improvised chant taken from a written source,
various cases of composed music, events in which other singing parts or
an ensemble are involved, a version from a cantorial manuscript, and the
like — all represent instances where concern about accentuation is valid.
These cases do require, at times, some changes and adjustments because
many settings are simply wrong or inconsistent, some are created by ignorant
composers and cantors, some are unattested, or are taken from ineffective
sources, and some are derived from sources that originally follow the

Ashkenazi practice. Such adjustments involve significant issues of
performance practice and esthetics. In brief, the question is what to do,
where and how to adjust, and when to refrain from such measures. When
properly undertaken, these adjustments would follow the accepted
convention that the correct enunciation to be applied in the synagogue is
Modern Hebrew pronunciation, using the language as spoken 8 in Israel
as the model.

The principal difference between Modern Hebrew and Ashkenazi
pronunciation is in the location of the accent (stressed syllable) within
each word. The accentuation in Modern Hebrew, as opposed to the
Ashkenazi custom, follows the original biblical form as indicated by Ta'amey
Hamikra. In this respect Modern Hebrew follows the Sepharadi tradition.
It also departs from Ashkenazi pronunciation in other aspects such as not
pronouncing the letter Tav without a Dagesh as S, pronouncing both Patach
and Kamats gadol as AH, pronouncing some Kamats Katan in the same
manner as Cholam, not making a distinction between Segol and Tsere (except
for Tsere followed by a Yod), etc. Nevertheless, Modern Hebrew is not
identical to Sepharadi Hebrew either. Traits such as the difference between
Aleph and Ayin, Kaf and Kof, as well as a variety of cases of Dagesh in
sounds represented by such letters as Gimel, Daled, and Tav, typical of various
Sephardi speech traditions 9 are also absent from Modern Hebrew.

To sum up, spoken Modern Hebrew is neither fully Sephardi nor fully
Ashkenazi, but a mixture of practices (each one in itself is a combination
of a variety of modes of pronunciation, even bordering on dialect
differences.) This is the main reason that this shared pattern of speech
should be called Modern Hebrew and not Sephardi pronunciation, as is
so often heard in the professional, educational, and sometimes even

8 And by extension, as sung, which as will be discussed below, carries further affecting
significance.

9 It should be noted that there is no one version of Ashkenazi, Sephardi, or "Edot
Hamizrach" pronunciation. The Lithuanian pronunciation is not the same as Hungarian
or the German tradition from the Rhineland for example, nor is Moroccan Hebrew
pronunciation identical to that spoken by Jewish communities in Greece, Turkey, or the
Balkans, which is still different from that of Yemenite Jews, etc. Thus, so far as Hebrew
pronunciation is concerned, the terms Sephardi or Ashkenazi are a gross approximation.

7

scholarly circles. Moreover, rather than a derogatory colloquial reference
to uninformed, wrong manner of performance and pronunciation,
"Ashkesphardic" really marks the norm of formal Modern Hebrew.

In the detailed circumstances of its practical daily use, Modern Hebrew
incorporates and reflects some freedom and flexibility, not so much in
terms of how the vowels and consonants should sound but, to a certain
extent, where the placement of the accent should fall within the word.
The reasons for, and limits of this tolerance are yet to be thoroughly
explored. One of the primary hypotheses would naturally point to Modern
Hebrew's being an amalgam of many forms of speech, the dynamic product
of a relatively young immigrant culture, which still comprises many first-
generation immigrants from many parts of the world. As such, spoken
Hebrew still absorbs a diverse array of living modes of pronunciation and
accents in addition to the local Israeli vernacular. One may also hypothesize
that the wide tolerance for stress placement in Hebrew is due to a smaller
contrast between its accented and unaccented syllables, a difference that
appears less extreme, for example, than that found in English or German
(perhaps similar, although not as even, as French.) 10

Given the exigencies of daily living in Israel, freedoms with Hebrew
accentuation are taken not infrequently, even though they are recognized
as contrary to the formal pronunciation. More importantly, however, even
when divergent to the point of being recognized as incorrect, these are so
organically imbedded in Israeli parlance, that in most instances the
differences go unnoticed, and certainly uncorrected. In a few other cases
where a divergence is obvious, it is accepted and understood as a particular
form of colloquialism, and/or informality. One example is the word "June"
or, especially when used as a term of endearment (but not always, see note
13) — "buba." Another one variant of emotional interpretation finds its

10 Max Wohlberg used to suggest that in addition to the primary accent, every word in
Hebrew included a secondary, less distinct or audible stress on another syllable. Although
I find this proposal dubious and unsubstantiated I suspect that it was a reflection of
Wohlberg's instinctive sense of this hypothesized lack of contrast between accented and
unaccented syllables, as well as the general flexibility and tolerance I discuss here. We
may also add to this observation the lack of consideration for accents in the meter of
medieval Hebrew poetry for example.

way to the colloquial Mil' el form of the word "kapara." Misplaced Mil' el in
Modern Hebrew is also found in reference to names of geographical
location such as towns and villages. A few examples among many include
CHAI-fa, " Rlshon leTSlyon (or often just Rlshon), ZlCH-ron (for Zichron
Ya'akov), PAR-des CHA-na and PAR-des hats, PE-tach TIKva, Klnat SHMO-
ne, Mazkeret BAT-ya, Ra-a-NAna, Re-CHO-vot, YA-fo, and at times, ASH-dod,
ASH-kelon, BAT-yam, and CHU-lon. This also extends to markers of any
location such as neighborhood, (Re-CHAV-ya, Sh'chunat ha-TIK-va), or a
place of business or commerce, for example, Shuk ha-KAR-mel. Interestingly
some of these pronunciation habits constitute the particular slant of
colloquialism of population segments that are typically not of Ashkenazi
origin.

Mil' el forms are also prevalent among children-related terms, such as
Sholem or the various numerical stages in children's games such as the
Israeli version of hopscotch (Klass) or the stages of a game known as
"Chamesh Avanim," which are pronounced as Rlshon, SHE-ni, SHLlshi,
etc. In the realm of food we can find the (now almost discontinued)
breakfast cereal known as "SHAL-va," and items such as CHAL-va
(maintaining the original Arabic), GLlda, PIL-pel, and in some colloquial
circumstances also Rl-ba and \J-ga. n Perhaps because of its association with
food, the originally cooperative enterprise for the marketing of agricultural
products "Tnuva" also took the Mil'el form. Another food-related usage
includes the term "BlM-kom" (a Mil' el form of the Hebrew word for
substitute), which was used mostly in the Kibbutz dining hall to refer to an
alternative for the main dish of the day (probably the most known reference
to this item can be found in Le'hakat Hanachal's rendition of the song
"Ada"). Habimah Theater is also pronounced in Mil'el, in all likelihood

11 In all of the examples from Modern Hebrew I spell the words as they sound when
spoken colloquially and not as they are formally spelled in English.

12 An amusing quaint entertaining artifact of the assumption of Mil'el in "Uga" is deeply
rooted in a misinterpretation of the word in the popular children's dance song "Uga
Uga Uga." Originally indicating the imperative of the verb Ayin Vav Girael (to form a
circle), Uga was understood by the illustrator of the children's book in which it appeared
as a Mil'el form of the word "cake," hence the drawing of children dancing around a
huge bundt cake.

due to its origins in Ashkenazi Russia.

When it comes to the common pronunciation of names, this
phenomenon is so commonplace as to become the rule rather than the
exception. Thus the norm would be the Mil'el version of names such as
Adam, Avram, Bracha, Chedva, Dafnah, Dinah, Dvorak, Eytan, Eli, Ester, Gidon,
Gila, llan, Le'ah, Michael, Nuric, Orah, Rivka, Ruven, Sara, Shalom, Shimon,
Yakov, Yo'av, Yonatan, (also featured in one of the most popular children
songs "Yonatan Hakatan"), Yuda, Yudit, and many many others. The name
Yoram would take on the Mil'el form to indicate a derogatory similar to
that of the English slang "dork" or "nerd." The Mil'el in the context of
names is indeed noted in fiction literature such as in a recent novel by
Meir Shalev, 13 and in local and national Hebrew newspapers, such as in a
Jerusalem local newspaper, 14 or Ha'arets. 15

While at times a good deal of freedom is taken in the spoken language,
when it comes to singing, Modern Hebrew absorbs variation within
traditional standards to an even further degree. From the hazy echoes of
early childhood in Israel I can summon the memory of a loop song we
inherited from the early pioneers that was then in some districts still
circulating occasionally. This tune may be useful as an example for such
tolerance as well as a case study of the determining factors (the "wrong"
accents are indicated within the example.) 16

13 Meir Shalev, Beveyto Bamidbar (In his House in the Wilderness), Tel Aviv: Am Oved Publishers,
1998, pp. 126, 275, 337. Shalev also mentions the Mil'el pronunciation of the word "buho€ in its
literal meaning as a doU (not a teiTO of endearment) in his n< '\ el E (Tel i □ ' Publishei
1991, pp. 350, 383.)

14 Kol Hazman, No. 109, Jerusalem, 5/11/2001, p. 67.

15 Ha'arets, weekend section, 9/20/2002, P. 34. Relevant here is the reference to the
association of a Mil'el pronunciation of the name of a town (Bat Yam) as an indicator of

a low class, non-Ashkenazi sector {"k'shehaya mod ben sheva vehamishpacha avra 'lalev

hakashe shel Bat Yam' (bemil'el), yichus she'hu nefiene lenafnefbo. irao, shezihata b'od mo'ed et
ma shehu mechane 'netiyotai hafrechiyot' ...")

16 See discussion of these factors as they appear in these songs below, pp. 18-20.

Example 5

k l

i

1 . .

A 5

„r

- ra ba

ki - ne -

ret a - sher ba - ga

" '" :

™,r

X

a shir ched - va va - g

il kol ha-

^^ Jl ^ J h i — 1 1 r~ ^' j j i j r =ii

Another example can be extracted from the prevalent folk-dancing culture
("Rikudey Am") associated with the youth movements and kibbutzim (which
I hear is enjoying a vigorous revival in the last few years, now in vogue
among everybody including the new young and old urbanites). From the
late Seventies I recall a dance set to the text of "Hine Ma Tov Urna Na'im"
that contains a few phrases with similar examples for accentuation
tolerance. Here too I suspect the acceptable "wrong accents" may not always
derive from Ashkenazi pronunciation only but also from a general tendency
to allow occasionally for accents to fall on syllables for which they are not
designated, as marked in the following example:

In fact the earlier setting of this text may also provide a further example,
albeit a different kind, of tolerance for misplaced accentuation (note the
words "hine" and "na'im.")

More instances of accent manipulation can be observed within the
standard Israeli top-forty hits, and other derivatives of Israeli quasi pop
music. Among these we may find samples from the song contests that
enjoyed vast popularity in the Sixties, Seventies, and Eighties. These
constitute a class of what is known in Hebrew as "Festival Hazemer' (the
modest but not yet unqualifiedly successful revival of which has been
attempted in the last two years). From the "Festival Hazemer Hachasidi,"
(i.e., the "Hassidic style" song-contest) of the Seventies, for example, may
be recalled the song, "Yevarechecha," which is based on the text of
Yevarechecha Hashem Mitsiyon.

Example 8

jO ',

i.

\ r

-i i

ps

A 5 | F-

1 Wi

le -v

a-„e-

-

I

i

-

% ^Lf

* *jy

^J

' o II

Also from the pop music and top-forty world of Israel in the Seventies
we may recall Shmulik Kraus's setting of Miriam-Yalan Shtekelis children's
song, "Buba Zehava:"

Example 9

■ 1

i i

3 ft i

&-L

*

The list of possible cases to demonstrate this accentuation flexibility and
tolerance in the sung word of Modern Hebrew goes on to include many
examples such as hevenu SHA -lom a-LE-chem. ha-le-LU-ya HAledu-ya, od lo
NUT'ka hasharsheret, Yl-l'-lat TA-nim nuga TECH '-tse d'mi halayil, ufaratsta
yama va-ked-MA tsafona va-neg-BA, 17 and many many more. One may quickly
arrive at the easy conclusion that there is a degree of built-in freedom and
tolerance within Modern Hebrew, especially when the language is expressed
in song. Granted, this latitude is not universal in that it is found mostly in
folk and popular music, nevertheless it is far from insubstantial. In fact, it
may be the relative prevalence of free variation in accentuation among
folk songs and popular music that renders it more applicable to prayer
music, especially outside the realm of formal classical settings as discussed
above.

But combined with this specific case of freedom in Hebrew is also a
general degree of ambiguity at times, and some room for flexibility when
it comes to the very process of identifying an accented syllable in the sung
word. The reason stems from the variety of musical factors involved in
what comes to constitute the acoustical phenomenon we perceive as
accentuation. In all non-tonal languages, 18 the only musical component
that determines the meaning of a word, is timbre. That is, in our perception
and understanding of words, timbre is the key audible essence that permits
distinctions among words because it provides the differences between the
various vowels and consonants that they comprise. Acoustically what defines
these consonants and vowels is a matter of the unique combination of

" Note that these examples (e.g., the last song on this list), as well as many other cases
discussed here, do not always constitute a change from Milrah to Mil' el and cannot always
be explained as a residue of Ashkenazi pronunciation.

14

overtones of each sound, the relationships between them, including the
degree and relationship of their various amplitudes, and most importantly,
what is called the envelope — the attack and decay of each individual sound.
Other music variables such as dynamics, pitch, rhythm, meter, and tempo,
normally go completely unmonitored in regular speech (although each
one of the variables may affect the overall expression, interpretation,
suggested attitude, non-verbal content and the like). Thus the every day
speech of ordinary speakers is not for these parameters consciously
controlled; in short, these musical variables do not contribute to the
dictionary definitions of the words of the language. Consequently, ordinary
combinations of these parameters in normal speech production, do not
affect the content of each word or phrase (interpretation, insinuation,
non-verbal meaning, attitude and emotional content, and at times the
aggregate meaning of the phrase beyond that of the total of the meanings
of each word notwithstanding).

Nevertheless, one musical parameter does play a specific role in speech.
In speaking, the single factor to determine where the accent of the word
falls is pitch, which is often associated with stress. This does not imply
singing or exact pitch however, rather, it betokens the fact that the syllable
that carries a pitch that is relatively higher than the others in the same
word is predictably the one that is perceived as accented. 19 None of the
other variables, such as dynamics or the length of each syllable can over-
come the dominance of pitch in this regard. A case in point would be to
experiment with the pronunciation of a multi-syllable word such as "ency-
clopedia." Any syllable other than PE, whether prolonged more than the

18 Tonal languages such as some Banai languages, Yoruba, and many Asian languages, are
languages in which vowels or more accurately syllables, may be pronounced as high, low, or
middle tone, rising, or falling. The tone by which the syllable is pronounced can change the
meaning of the word dramatically. The title of Barbara Kingsolver's novel, The Poisonwood
Bible (New York: HarperCollins, 1998) is based on the two possible meanings of a phrase
that includes a Kikongo word, "Jesus is bangala" meaning in one mode of pronunciation
"Jesus is beloved," and in another, "Jesus is poisonwood" (pp. 70, 490.) Kingsolver also uses
this effect in reference to one of her characters being called a "benduka," which means "the
crooked walker" but also a certain kind of slick, fast moving bird (p. 493.)

19 One exception in most languages is indication of a question. The pitch interplay between
the accent and the indication of a question mark in the same word is in fact rather

15

others, or uttered much louder than they, would not sound accented so
long as PE takes the highest pitch. On the other hand, however else we
may pronounce the word, if a syllable other than PE is assigned a higher
pitch, it immediately changes the accentuation of the word.

Nevertheless, the very definition of singing is that pitch is dictated by
the music. As opposed to the spoken word, in the sung word pitch is the
most controlled and pre-determined musical parameter. Thus the most
important feature available to establish the accent of a given word, pitch,
is already set in the song and we cannot use it to control the location of
the accent as we please. On the other hand, as opposed to ordinary speech
in which rhythm is not given, and is arbitrary, free, and unmeasured, and
meter does not exist at all, sung music includes these elements as distin-
guishing parameters, whether indicated or implied. By default they auto-
matically become variables in determining the accent. Other factors such
as scale degree, motivic and thematic content, and most significantly,
melisma versus syllabic rendering may also have an affect. Thus in the
sung word a variety of parameters come into play in addition to pitch. The
interrelationships and specific balance among these parameters would
eventually determine which syllable would be perceived as accented, and
in some cases may remain ambiguous or semi-ambiguous.

Naturally most examples from any given repertoire, such as the ones
given above, include a combination of factors and parameters, so that
exemplary cases in which all parameters are equal except for the pitch, are
rarely found. A nearly minimal case can be drawn from two different ways
of singing the word "hakadosh" in Israel Goldfarb's "Shalom Aleychem." 20

complicated and its exploration is beyond the scope of this article. In general terms,
within each question phrase one word marks the question and it carries the stress of the
entire phrase. Within this word the highest syllable would be the last one, but the accented
syllable would still be higher than the others. It is the interrelationship between the two
higher pitches that tesults in our perception of the word as containing an accented syllable
as well as signifying a question. Other exceptions and considerations to this rule do exist
such as a negative tag question in English like, "He didn't, did he?" in which "he" would
have a higher or lower pitch than "did," hence the above-mentioned complications involved
in the role of pitch in question phrases.

20 The tune appears in Israel Goldfarb and Samuel Eliezer Goldfarb, Friday Evening Melodies
for Synagogue, School, and Home, New York: Bureau of Jewish Education, 1918, pp. 83-86.

16

In the first alternate, as shown in the following example, both KA and
DOSH are on the same pitch (the higher one) and thus the accent is
perceived according to meter (the first beat of the measure.) Nevertheless
when DOSH is placed on a pitch higher than HA and KA, it becomes
accented despite its being on the weak beat of the measure.

This example ( 10) also demonstrates that the effect that the higher pitch
has depends on its relative placement next to its neighboring notes only.
Thus all other parameters being equal, a note is perceived as accented if it
is higher than the note that immediately follows or precedes it. 21 This
pattern may account for the ambiguity that arises in the accent in such
words as "artsa," which normally is AR-tsa , but in the dance-song, "Artsa
Alinu," may have the syllable TSA perceived as accented because it is higher
than the following syllable as well as the one that precedes it:

Example 11

In other sources, such as a publication of a choral arrangement by Gil Aldema in Daf
Lamak'heh No. 487 by the merkaz letarbut velechinuch, hamador (emusica in Israel, 1975, the
tune is referred to as "traditional." Max Helfman considered a Hassidic Niggun to be the
origin of the tune, as mentioned by Pinchas Spiro in "Israel Goldfarb's 'Shalom Alechem',"
Journal of Synagogue Music, Vol. XVI, No. 2, 1986, pp. 3846, in which the author argues
that Goldfarb is nevertheless the composer of this tune. Max Wohlberg mentioned (on
p. 6 of the April 1953 issue of the Cantors Assembly's newsletter The Cantors Voice) that
it appears in Zmiros shA Shabos by Naftali ben Menachem, Jerusalem, 1949, as "mushar b'fi
chassidim" (sung by Hassidic people), with no mention of Goldfarb. It also appears as
"lachan chassidi" (Hassidic melody) in 1000 zemer ve'od zemer, chelek doled, shirey chagim,
Talma Alyagon and Rafi Pesachzon, eds., Kineret Publications (no place and date), p. 18.
21 In fact we may use this perception to avoid a wrong accent or correct it, see for example
the correction in measure 3 in example 21B below (on the word "bemitsi/otecha.")

17

Regardless of the possible ambiguity regarding the stress in the example
of "ar-tsa," I suggest that because of the syncopation and not despite it,
further emphasis is perceived on the first note's strong beat quality and
less stress is put on the metric and rhythmic accent qualities of the second
note. Other contributing factors may be the fact that the syllable AR
contains the first note of the entire song, and perhaps also because it is
the tonic. Thus, the first note is still properly accentuated in this song.

Let us examine more fully the evidence for the operation and function
of the determinants of accent placement as they come into play in the
songs mentioned earlier in our discussion. In Example 5 the first syllable
on the word "hayita" is accented instead of the second one, as would be
normally expected in ordinary Hebrew speech. This is primarily because it
falls on the first beat and as such, on the first note of the song. The second
syllable falling on the same note reinforces the accent on the first syllable;
if the second syllable were at a higher pitch, and moreover, were both
higher and co-occurring with a melisma, then such an event might create
some ambiguity.

The accent on TSE in the second word, (tse-i-ra) in Example 5 is also
misplaced. This accent also results from a strong beat. The higher pitch
on RA in this word, where the accent should ordinarily be in spoken
Hebrew, although creating a small (alas negligible) sense of ambiguity, is
not enough to counterbalance the fact that TSE is on a melisma and that
RA shares a beat with I. Moreover, the latter takes the first eighth note,
leaving the syllable that is supposed to be accented on the weakest half of
the weakest beat. The first syllable on the word "asfier" is also accented as
it falls on the first half of the first beat. Nevertheless, the second syllable is
at a higher pitch, inducing a perception that the accentuation of the word
is ambiguous. Indeed this may serve as an example of a case in which a
change (if it occurred in a setting that required adjustment) would not be
required even if the word might still be perceived to be mispronounced.
The second time the word "hayita" appears (Example 5, measure 6) is a case
identical to the first time, and RA in "sha-ra" on measure 10 is wrongly
accentuated due to its falling on the strong beat as well as on a higher note.

In Example 8 the accent on VA in "vanim" (measure 1) is a result of a

strong beat and the shade of ambiguity stems from NIM being on a higher

18

pitch. When the phrase repeats, the ambiguity is absent because this time
the first syllable of the word is both on a strong beat as well as on the
higher pitch (measure 5). The accent on the word "yisrael" is ambiguous
because RA is on a higher pitch and EL is on a stronger beat. The word
"al" is also accented because of the higher pitch.

All the cases marked in Example 9 present instances of unresolved accent
placement. Ambiguity stems from a conflict induced by perceptions of
discordance between the pitch parameter, and meter and rhythm. Consider,
for example, the syllable YE in "ayefa" (measure 1), or MI in "bamita"
(measure 9). From a rhythmic point of view, given the requirements of the
formal notation, these syllables are the least accentuated because they fall
on the second eighth-note of the beat. Meter-wise they are also unaccented
because the syllables that follow them fall on a stronger beat (3 in a 4/4
meter.) Nevertheless, both YE and MI are perceived as accented because
of their higher pitch, and this perception is reinforced by the large interval
skips the words "ayefa" and "bamita" contain. This tendency is abundantly
clear in the words "aba aba" because of the repetition of the word, which
is normally accented A-ba. The perception of an accent on BA in the first
"aba" because of the pitch factor renders the following eighth-note
unaccented and therefore the BA in the second "aba" on the next note is
accented like the first one (see example 12). The urge to resolve this
conflicting input would most commonly result in hearing the accents as
correct and blocking out the pitch factor. But the same impetus combined
with a Zipfian tendency 22 to choose the simpler of two options (in our
case the simpler of two rhythmic interpretations), may result in our hearing
the accents as wrong and making an internal adjustment of the meter and
rhythm as follows:

Example 12

22 After George K. Zipf, Human Behaviour and the Principle of Least Effort (1949).
19

Similar pitch contribution to a perception of an accent where none is
expected can be found on the words "hatslalim," "maker" "tsachaka," and
"lama" (measures 5, 21, 25, 29 respectively).

The accents on the words "buba," "zehava," "lacheder," and "ba'u" in
Example 9 are all ambiguous because of the syncopation, and at times,
pitch. In the word "buba," for example, we may perceive the syllable BU as
accented because it is at a higher pitch, and because BA falls on a weak
part of the beat and the measure. Nevertheless, BA, which is the proper
syllable for the accent is equal here to BU in terms of rhythm and meter
because it is equal to BU in length and, like BU, falls on a weak part of the
beat. But if we unconsciously modify our perception of the music to accept
all the supposed accents in these words (such as "me'od" and "hadov" in
measures 27-28) as correct, that is, if we take the last note of every measure
as accented, then the word "ba'u" would include an accent on the wrong
syllable. 23

Given this understandable desire to apply the norms of formal Hebrew,
the impulse to correct accentuation when no correction is needed looms
as a common problem within the realm of educated practitioners at the
synagogue. The activity of overcorrecting, in addition to seeming either
arrogant or naive, unfortunately yields nonsensical and unmusical results.
In both necessary adjustments and unnecessary hyper-corrections, the most
notable weakness expresses itself in an effect for whose description I must
resort again to the luxury of extracting from past memories of growing up
in Israel, and invoke the colloquial term "Zimmerman." As an accepted
colloquialism this expression marked a general reference to any awkward
outcome of the practice of trying to match alternative text to a given melody
by applying words that did not fit the original tune. The primary result of
this practice was the appearance of segments that included words with too
many syllables to fit into the original musical phrase, in most cases ending
up with extra "recitation tones" on what should be in the original tune
only one note. Conversely at times the result was the opposite effect — one

23 It should be noted that most of these perceptions and ambiguities are also affected by
the dominating syncopated rhythm of this song.

syllable that originally was sung on one note got assigned a long melisma
on many notes. We may demonstrate this phenomenon by trying to fit the
sentence "No one can sing this song" into the first phrase of "My Bonnie
Lies over the Ocean" (a rather banal but convenient choice due to the
tune's pure syllabic quality).

Example 13

Thus any changes that involve the Zimmerman effect result primarily in
a significant imbalance between syllabic and melismatic expression as well
as effect a notable rhythmical distortion.

. I suspect that in the musical practices of the synagogue, many cases of a
Zimmerman effect may be derived, at least partially, from a combination of
two facets of ignorance. One is the attitude and behavior that strives to
demonstrate knowledge and propriety, and therefore cultivates a rigid purism
whether justified or not. The second is in the specific type of technique chosen
to implement the sought-after correctives. Again, an uninformed or semi-
informed individual would be conversant in only the basic (and purist) way of
effecting correct accentuation in liturgical Hebrew, which is to follow the
performance practice of biblical cantillation (Ta'amey Hamikra). Needless to
say, purism justified in this sense (i.e., when applied to cantillations), so far as
accentuation is concerned, is not only an organic part of the reading of biblical
cantillations, it is imbedded in the core of the discipline itself, that is, in the
codified instructions that are specifically germane to it, for they are in fact
what defines it. On the other hand, the musical considerations and questions
of taste that apply to liturgical music are not only irrelevant in this practice but
constitute part of what differentiates cantillation and prayer music as two
separate genres. All of this serves to underscore the fact that cantillationoriented
accentuation — in which one renders all the unaccented syllables as a syllabic
gesture and/or with a recitation tone, saving the entire melisma for the accent
— in addition to being unmusical, is foreign to music outside of the realm of
cantillation.

21

One of the clearest illustrations of an incident of such uninformed man-
nerism is recorded in the following example, in which a student at The
Jewish Theological Seminary needlessly changed Israel Goldfarb's "Magen
Avot" and sang the word "bikdusha" as follows:

Example 14

Similarly, the ending of the Three Festivals Blessing does not require
saving the entire melisma for the final cadence. In most cases the meter,
or implied meter element would render the accent correct without having
to resort to this device. Thus the accent in the first variant of the following
example is just as correct as the one in the second, but the first is by far
inferior musically.

Following are two examples in which either the editor, the arranger/
transcriber, or the composer himself created such musically inferior vari-
ants. Compare measures 1-12, 16-20 in the following Setting by Jacob Beimel
(Alternate A) 24 with the musically sensible, rhythmically balanced, and
consistent (and most likely the pre-edited) choice in Alternate B:

24 Moshe Nathanson, editor, Zamru ho: Congregational Melodies and Z'mirot for the Shalosh
R'galim and the High Holidays, Vol. Ill, New York: Cantors Assembly, 1974, p. 135.

zoch f

re - nu le -

cha - yi

. ^

lech c

ha- fets

ba-

" c h a - ylm ve - Ch0t - ve - n U be - S e -

(n) +H — VV *H H^ * | J- r^ * kh^ ™

The same can be observed in the following setting by Jacob Rapoport: 25
Example 17

The following examples demonstrate similar cases of unnecessary
alterations, over-correction, and/or unmusical solutions that occurred in

r, Hazzanut for the High Holidays, New York: The Cantorial Council
University, 1969, p. 25.

25 Noah Schall, edit<
of America, Yeshiv;

actual performances I attended in the last few years (mostly in "nusach
presentations" at JTS.) Lines A in this example feature the adjusted
performance and lines B, an alternative, or original variant that is more
musical and balanced both rhythmically as well as regarding the proportions
of syllabic rendering and melisma. Note that in the overwhelming majority
of these cases the adjustment was not necessary in the first place because
lines B are also correct so far as the accentuation is concerned.

Example 18

As may be inferred from the discussion thus far the rule of thumb I
propose is to follow the path of least interference. As suggested earlier,
pre-composed pieces, settings and choral compositions, and repertoire from
the classical canon should not be altered. The same applies to tunes that
are obviously taken from a different repertoire or context and presented
as such in the service, or inserted as separate units — almost in the sense of
being a quotation — such as the tune for Vetaher Libenu and Vekarev P'zurenu,
or tunes borrowed from the realms of Hassidic practice or repertoire. Even
in other cases not so clear cut the matter still requires discretion: if a
proposed alteration entails extensive distortion, or if it seems overly tedious,
good taste will suggest that it be avoided. Lines 8-9 in Example 18
(tushbechata venechemata) illustrate such a case.

The melodies known as "Misinai Tunes" also provide instances in which
changes in accentuation are not necessary, especially if done in an awkward
manner. I recall a cantor who gave a lecture at a Cantors Institute Alumni
Association conference (for the record, not an alumnae herself) some years
ago, who glibly stated that changes must be made in the High Holiday
evening singing of Mi Chamocha, resulting in the "choppy" rendering she
demonstrated as follows:

Example 19

After reviewing the range of cases and various sources of misaccentuation
that we have discussed so far, it becomes apparent that making any
adjustments to liturgical music in order to adjust to Modern Hebrew
pronunciation involves a built-in degree of freedom. As such it requires
taking into account the balance and interplay between the various musical
parameters that determine an accent and the ambiguity factor that comes
into play. The more fluid state of accentuation in the language in most
cases enables the use of these factors to our advantage, because when we
apply them critically as the basic method of determining musical
appropriateness as well as a corrective measure, they can help us avoid

26

many unnecessary changes. On the other hand, when we do have to make
adjustments in cases that are blatantly wrong or of questionable taste,
these considerations provide us with the guidance for making these
modifications in a musical manner with aesthetically pleasing results.

Clearly, these alterations should be the product of careful thought and
consideration. Good taste and common sense are primary prerequisites.
Skillful changes are unobtrusive, for they avoid severe interruption, and
do not cause a distortion of the rhythmic patterns and musical flow. They
do require both competence and facility with Hebrew as well as a good
instinctive sense of the language. I believe that with this sensitivity to the
language combined with an awareness and understanding of the dominance
of pitch in the spoken language and the various musical factors and
considerations in the sung word, we can find solutions beyond the mere
use of meter and melisma and resolve accentuation difficulties without
the awkward results demonstrated above. Yet I would maintain that if
implementing all of the devices at our disposal is not possible and/or the
result is still unmusical or nonsensical, it is better to leave the "wrong
accent" in place.

Some cases are very subtle, yet so easy to correct or better yet, to preempt
an unmusical rendering before it occurs, that a modification would be in
order, for example choosing Alternate A in the following example from
Adon Olam, over the commonly practiced Alternate B.

Other events require different methods of adjusting to correct Modern
Hebrew accentuation without musical distortions. A good case study of a
variety of accent problems, in which some adjustments are necessary, and
which can provide a demonstration of a variety of possible modes of
adjustment may be found in Goldfarb's setting for Retse Vimnuchatenu for
Shabbat morning. One may argue that being a congregational tune, this
27

may be viewed as a separate unit, inserted as such, and therefore requires
no adjustment. But let us further clarify the issue. The Goldfarb tune is
not from the classic canon, nor is it a composition or a piece borrowed
from a different context, usage, style, or repertoire. It was created and
presented specifically for the practicum, precisely to constitute an organic
part of simple, congregational, laity-oriented prayer music for the synagogue
service. Furthermore, it involves yet another consideration, the question
of consistency. Retse Vimnuchatenu does not follow Ashkenazi
pronunciation, nor does it set out to emulate it or any other unique style.
The piece is basically a new tune that tries to capture a folk-like style. The
overall approach is Modern Hebrew but many of the words are simply set
in a way that misappropriates the accents. As such, these words are blatantly
jarring and create a noticeable departure from ordinary language.

The task we are beset with is to resolve this distortion without disturbing
the piece musically. In measure 3 of Example 21A the original variant
includes a wrong accent on MI in bemitsvotecha. The musical factors behind
this accent are meter (first beat of the measure) and pitch — the vowel on
which the correct accentuation should occur, TE, is placed on a lower
note. (See discussion above, p. 17, following Example 10.) This can easily
be corrected by placing a lower note immediately preceding and following
the note on which the correct accent should be (Example 21B, measure
3). The adjustment proposed in Example 21B, measure 7 is based on a
perceived free rhythm (subtly lengthening the time value on the note for
the vowel TE in betoratecha, as suggested by the short fermata). Adding an
extra note that is higher than the note preceding it and placing the correct
accented VE on it (Example 21B, measure 11) shifts some of the incorrect
accent from TU in mituvecha (stemming from the strong beat of the measure
and from its being on a higher note than VE in the original) helps to
strengthen the perceived accent on VE and at least creates some ambiguity
in comparison to the original wrong accentuation. A metric shift as well
as a subtle rhythmic change renders TE in biyshuatecha a correctly accented
syllable in that it shifts it to a strong beat of the measure (whereas in the
original this beat was assigned to .CHA.)

m

Example 21

Finally, there are cases that, although presenting a substantial challenge
so far as accentuation adjustment is concerned, alas, are not worth

bothering with. The ever so ubiquitous melody for Shehu Note Shamayim
of the Aleynu section is probably the ultimate example of a tune having a
variety of most of the mistakes that could possibly occur, while also being
combined with the lowest musical quality and a crude, even offensive
"carnival" mood setting. 26 It seems that regardless of the occasion,
circumstances, or point of reference, all resources of sensible thinking and
good taste would indicate that the best solution is to refrain from using
this setting altogether.

While it is not presently possible to sum up conclusively from only the
examples that we have examined above, we may nevertheless perceive that
in those instances that required some degree of adjustment, and in the
solutions discussed, there looms a possible model for an underlying
approach. In view of the variety of tools at hand, including the flexibility
and tolerance available in the language, and the interplay and balance
between several musical parameters, we may value the practical approach
toward achieving the most sensible, least obtrusive, and best musical
solution for avoiding hypercorrect accentuation and the musical distortions
it engenders. In the end, it is good to recall that even with the gift of
language and freedom of speech available to us all, there are times when
proper musical considerations would and should provide the first frame
of reference for fulfillment and enjoyment of the human voice.

Dr. Boaz Tai ite professor at the Jewish Theological Seminary of America. His

compositions have been performed, recorded, and broadcast internationally. His music is published
fry Transcontinental Music Publishers. He has published and lectured internationally on Ashkenazi
liturgical music and on Arnold Schoenberg.

26 For a detailed discussion of these traits in this melody as well as other, similar cases, see
Arnold Rothstein, "A Practical Proposal to Upgrade the Level of Taste in the Music in
the Synagogue," Journal of Synagogue Music, Vol. X, No. 2, 1980.

Arnold Schoenberg and Ahad Ha* Am

by Joshua R. Jacobson

The Ten Commandments were given to Israel against a dramatic
environmental backdrop.

n^gnai fbp tt] np v an n^na ■'er'pipn ai'a ^n-n

-iko pm -ise? bp>] irir\~bv na? jjih

njqaa -)#*$ Qtfrr^a "iin^

e?$a 'n rPi? tv nc??$ , 35» I*?? !#¥ TP "ini

nko -inrr^s nnrr] l^asn j^ya i3©x? bv'i

On the third day, as morning dawned, there was thunder and
lightning, and a dense cloud upon the mountain, and a very loud
blast of the shofar; and all the people who were in the camp
trembled.... Mount Sinai was all in smoke, for the LORD had come
down upon it in fire; the smoke rose like the smoke of a kiln, and the
whole mountain trembled violently.

(Exod. 19:16, 18)

God explains to Moses the need for making such a scene:

fjas 'Ha'!? awn i;n?r -naira jji?n ays ■?p ! ?N «a "oix nan
abrjb wage ^a~a31
"I will come to you in a thick cloud, in order that the people may
hear when I speak with you and trust you forever."

(Exod. 19:9)
How do we reconcile the theatricality of the smoke, the earthquake, the
thunder and the lightning with the concept of Divine transcendence? How
can we reconcile the concept of God as a metaphysical essence with this
very physical display at Sinai? Why such a "Cecil B. DeMille" production?
How different is the revelation, the theophany, experienced at Mount
Sinai by the prophet Elijah:

ns>i non't bip

prm nPin? nni ini; 'n nani

'n , 3?P a^p 13^1 ann pisi?

'n n-na *6

'n zfana *6 2?i?"! rrnn in^i

2?sn inx] 'n e/nii *6 m tfjnn "iriKi

(lKgs. 19:1142)

Elijah felt the earthquake, he saw the wind and the fire, but the
Biblical text clearly states that God was not in any of those physical
manifestations. Elijah then experienced God in a still small voice, or to
translate more accurately, the sound of thin silence. Similarly, in the
case of Moses, God reveals himself not in elaborate visions, but by
simple communication. D^S - ^ Eras TV^b~h^ 'PI TgJ\ (Exod. 33:11)

But to Israel the revelation is through thunder and lightning. There is an
implication that to humans of rare spirituality, to prophets such as Moses
and Elijah, God is revealed as pure spirit; whereas to the common folk, an
image is required.

(Exod 19:9) ^122 "H?"!? DI?n i?OET TQIJ3
The great twentieth century Austrian composer, Arnold Schoenberg,
closely identified with this concept. Like the mature Beethoven, in his
music, Schoenberg was addressing God, not mortals. His tonal language
was extremely cerebral. Accordingly, Schoenberg despaired of the possibility
that his sophisticated musical ideas could be understood by the masses.
He once said:

Is one supposed to talk only about matters that the most stupid can
understand? ... It is self-evident that art which treats deeper ideas
cannot address itself to the [multitudes]. ... In the end, art and success
will yet again have to part company. (Style and Idea, p. 336)
Schoenberg was convinced that if music is pure, if it is created for the
purpose of expressing deep sentiments through the worlds of sound,
uncompromised by a self-conscious striving for accessibility, affect or

32

financial success, then music can convey a prophetic message, revealing a
transcendent reality. In a 1951 letter to the Director of the Israel Academy
of Music in Jerusalem, he wrote:

I would have tried to give this Academy universal significance so as
to place it in a position to serve as an alternative for a mankind that
caters in so many ways to an amoral, business-inspired materialism. A
materialism behind which any ethical assumptions of our art are
rapidly disappearing.... From such an institution must go forth true
priests of art who confront art with the same sense of consecration
that the priest brings to God's altar. For, just as God chose Israel,
whose task it is to preserve, in spite of all suffering, the pure, true,
mosaic monotheism, so it behooves Israeli musicians to offer the
world a model possessed of the unique capacity to make our souls
function once more in ways apt to further the development of hu-
manity toward ever higher goals. (Ringer 1990, p. 246)
Schoenberg was an ardent Zionist, who on several occasions expressed
his willingness to give up his career as a composer in order to give speeches
to raise money and consciousness for the establishment of a Jewish
homeland to save the doomed Jews of Europe. In 1926 he wrote a prophetic
play, Der biblische Weg (the Path of the Bible) about the establishment of a
modern Jewish state in the ancient holy land.

He was drawn to the concept of an unfathomable Supreme Being who
had chosen the Jewish people to preserve the pure faith through the ages.
He wrote:

We Jews call ourselves the chosen people of the Lord, and are the
keepers of His promise. And we know that we were chosen only to
think the thought of the one, eternal, unimaginable, invisible God
through to completion, in short, to keep it alive! And there is noth-
ing that can compromise with that mission. (Ringer 1990, p. 36)
For Arnold Schoenberg, compromise was the greatest sin. He saw in the
second commandment his credo— do not reduce the concept of the infinite
God by limiting it to an image or to a name or to an easily recognizable
icon. He remembered God's words to Moses in the desert. When Moses
asks God, "By what name shall I call You?" the response is rrrtN tbk mnx,

33

usually translated as "I am what I am." Or, in Schoenberg's midrash,
"don't limit your concept of God by giving it a name or a shape as the
pagans had done."
Arnold Schoenberg composed this poem in 1925 (opus 27, no. 2):

You should not make yourself an image!

For an image limits, reduces,

Strangles that which should remain unlimited and unimaginable.

An image warrants a name:

You can take that only from below;

Do not worship that which is base!

You must believe in the spirit!

Immediate, unfeeling and unselfish,

You must, if you want to remain the chosen one!
In 1928 Arnold Schoenberg wrote his own libretto for an opera that he
subsequently set to music. Moses and Aaron deals with the struggle between
the purity of a great idea and the inability of the masses to grasp that idea.
The opera revolves around the conflict between the two brothers who
lead the Israelites in two very different ways. Moses understands the Divine
Idea, but realizes that by putting the Idea into words it immediately perverts
and cheapens that Idea. He is thus frustrated at his inability to
communicate his great vision.

Aaron has no such compunctions. Aaron realizes that the Israelites have
no idea what Moses is getting at, and that in order to make the people go
along with this covenant he has to be able to present it in a way that
ordinary mortals can readily understand. He is willing to compromise.
This attitude was recognized some 2,000 years ago by Rabbi Hillel who
wrote, "be thou of the disciples of Aaron, loving peace and pursuing
peace, loving your fellow creatures and bringing them closer to the Torah."
(Mishnah Avot 1: 12) And so, to Moses' eventual chagrin, it is Aaron who
speaks to the people, translating Moses's obscure ideas, working miracles
for the impressionable slaves, and even fashioning a golden calf as a
tangible object of worship.
In Schoenberg's opera, Moses never sings, his words are delivered in

34

severe inflected speech (sprechstimme). Aaron's words are always sung,
conveying an appealing lyricism, an aura of popularity. Of course, this is
based on the Biblical account that Moses had a speech defect, a problem
communicating with people.

■D3N ji& iJ ? nsDi ns-nns -o

I have never been a man of words
I am slow of speech and slow of tongue.
(Exod.4:10)
...and on the image of Aaron as the great communicator.

Kin 13T i3"P? ""rip-p *i?n ^nK prjN *6q

raa aninrrnN nTpfen rbx rnsrn

ns 1 ? ^^"T./T xin n^rn ai?? - ^ ^ xin — 1511

There is your brother Aaron the Levite. He, I know, speaks readily.
You shall speak to him and put the words in his mouth...
and he shall speak for you to the people. Thus he shall serve as your
spokesman, with you playing the role of God to him,

(Exod. 4:14-16)
Now look at this dialogue from the libretto of Schoenberg's opera:
Moses speaks:

My love is for my idea.

I live only for that idea.

To serve the divine idea is the purpose of the

freedom for which this people has been chosen.
Aaron responds:

No people can grasp more than just the perceivable part of the

whole idea, so it becomes understood by all the people in their

own accustomed way.
Then Aaron addresses Moses:

I was to speak in images,

35

while you spoke in ideas.
I was to speak to the heart,
you to the mind.
Listen also to the frustration in Moses' words:
Inconceivable God!
Inexpressible, many-sided idea,
will You let Yourself be explained in such a way?
Shall Aaron, my mouth, fashion this image?
Then I have fashioned an image too,
false, as all images must be.
Thus I am defeated!

Thus, what I believed before was but madness,
it can not and must not be given voice.
O word, thou word that I lack! (act 2, scene 5)
Moses is frustrated. He realizes that by putting God's words, the
Decalogue, into stone, by phrasing the Divine idea in human language, by
associating the Deity with such natural phenomena as thunder and
lightning, he has reduced the Divine to the mundane.

There is a remarkable similarity between Schoenberg's concept of Moses
and Aaron and that of Ahad Ha Am. Ahad Ha Am was the pen name for
Asher Hirsch Ginzberg, a remarkable Hebrew essayist active at the turn of
the century, and a leading figure of the Hibbat Zion movement. I have
found no evidence that the composer was directly influenced by the Hebrew
writer. The confluence of their ideas appears to be coincidental.

In his 1894 essay, "Kohen Venavi" ("Priest and Prophet"), anticipating
Schoenberg's midrashic opera by some three decades, Ahad Ha Am wrote:
In the early history of any epoch-making idea, there have always
been men who have devoted themselves to that idea, and to it alone,
all their powers, both physical and spiritual. Such men as these look
at the world exclusively from the point of view of their idea, and wish
to save society by it alone... they refuse to compromise, (p. 129)

The Prophet is essentially a one-sided man. A certain moral idea
fills his entire being.... He desires nothing, strives for nothing, except
to make every phase of his life around him an embodiment of that

36

idea in its perfect form. (p. 130)

The Prophet is thus a primal force. His action affects the character
of the general harmony, while he himself does not become a part of
that harmony, but remains always a man apart, a narrow-minded
extremist, zealous for his own ideal, and intolerant of every other.
And since he cannot have all that he would, he is in a perpetual state
of anger and grief.... The other members of society, ...creatures of the
general harmony, cry out after him, "The prophet is a fool, the
spiritual man is mad!" (p. 131)

It is otherwise with the Priest. The Priest also fosters the Idea and
desires to perpetuate it, but he is not of the race of the giants. He has
not the strength to fight continually.. .he broadens his outlook and
takes a wider view of the relation between his Idea and the facts of
life. Not what ought to be, but what can be, is what he seeks. ...He
accepts the complex "harmony" which has resulted from the conflict
of that Idea with other forces, (p. 133)
In another essay, written in 1904 and entitled simply, "Moses," Ahad

Ha'Am identified Moses as the archetypal prophet, citing as his prooftext

the verses that conclude the Torah:

Never again did there arise in Israel a prophet like Moses —

whom the LORD singled out (knew), face to face,

(Deut. 34:10)
And Ahad Ha'Am identified Aaron as the archetypal priest:

[Moses] has a brother in Egypt, a man of position, a Levite who
knows how to shape his words to the needs of the time and
place.. .the "Priest" of the future, (p. 320)

[Priests] are men who cannot rise to the Prophet's elevation and
have no sympathy with his extremism, but are none the less nearer to
him in spirit than the mass of humanity, and are capable of being
influenced by him up to a certain point.... They stand between the
Prophet and the world and transmit his influence by devious ways,
adapting their methods to the needs of each particular time. (p. 314)

37

So where does this leave us in the struggle of the dialectic between the
esoteric and the popular, between Moses and Aaron? Is there a way for
ordinary people to transcend the intermediary and, like the prophet,
confront God face to face?

In "The Lonely Man of Faith," Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik (z"l) suggests
that through the act of communal prayer we attempt to reconcile that
dialectic.

The very essence of prayer is the covenantal experience of being
together with and talking to God. ... Prayer is unimaginable without
having man stand before and address himself to God in a manner
reminiscent of the prophet's dialogue with God. ... Only within the
covenantal community, which is formed by God descending upon the
mountain and man, upon the call of the Lord, ascending the moun-
tain, is a direct and personal relationship expressing itself in the
prophetic "face to face" colloquy established. ... Prayer is basically an
awareness of man finding himself in the presence of and addressing
himself to his Maker, and to pray has one connotation only: to stand
before God. (pp. 34-35)

Rabbi Soloveitchik's calling himself "a lonely man of faith" brings to
mind the loneliness of the single-minded Arnold Schoenberg, or of the
pure-thinking prophet Moses.

Arnold Schoenberg once wrote, "The ideas represented [in my opera,
Moses and Aaron] are all so much tied in with my own personality." (Letters,
p. 143) In other words, while Schoenberg closely identified with the purity
of thought represented by Moses, he realized that only Aaron could have
found the means of communication enabling him to compose an opera.
The Moses and Aaron dialectic is the struggle within Schoenberg himself,
and perhaps within all of us who grapple with these questions.

If we do not struggle, if we do not continue to discover, we fall prey to
complacency. We worship the thunder and lightning and may be unable
to realize that they are only the backdrop for the Divine idea. Each of us
has the capacity to "ascend the mountain" and, like Moses, confront God
face to face.

Bibliography

Cherlin, Michael. "Schoenberg's Representation of the Divine in 'Moses
and Aaron'." Journal of the Arnold Schoenberg Institute, 9 (2 [November]
1986): 210-216.

Dawidowicz, Lucy. "Arnold Schoenberg: A Search for Jewish
Identity." In The Jewish Presence. New York: Holt Rinehart and
Winston, 1977.

Ginzberg, Asher (Ahad Ha Am). Selected Essays of Ahad Ha-Am.
Translated from the Hebrew, Edited and with an Introduction by Leon
Simon. Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1912.
Reprint edition New York: Atheneum, 1970.

Gradenwitz, Peter. "The Religious Works of Arnold Schoenberg."
The Music Review, 21/1 (I960): 19-29.

Ringer, Alexander. Arnold Schoenberg: The Composer as Jew. Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1990.

Ringer, Alexander. "Arnold Schoenberg and the Prophetic Image in
Music." Journal of the Arnold Schoenberg Institute, 1/1 (October, 1976):
26-38.

Schiff, David. "Jewish and Musical Tradition in the Music of
Mahler and Schoenberg." Journal of the Arnold Schoenberg Institute, 9 (2
(November) 1986): 217-231.

Schoenberg, Arnold. Letters: Selected and edited r/y Erwin Stein, trans-
lated from the original German b;y Eithne Wilkins and Ernst Kaiser. Lon-
don: Faber and Faber, 1964.

Schoenberg, Arnold. Style and Idea. ed. Leonard Stein. Berkeley:
University of California Press, 1975.

Soloveitchik, Joseph B. "The Lonely Man of Faith." Tradition, 7/2
(Spring, 1965): 5-67.

Stein, Leonard. "Schoenberg's Jewish Identity." Journal of the Arnold
Schoenberg Institute, 3 (1 (March) 1979): 3-10.

Weaver, Robert. "The Conflict of Religion and Aesthetics in
Schoenberg's Moses and Aaron." In Robert Weaver, editor, Essays on
the Music of J. S. Bach and Other Divers Subjects. Louisville, KY: The

39

University of Louisville, 1981.

Worner, Karl H. Schoenberg's 'Moses and Aaron. ' Translated by Paul
Hamburger. New York: St. Martin's Press, c. 1963.

Dr. Joshua J 'acobson is Professor of Music and director of choral activities at Northeastern University.
He is also Visiting Professor of Jewish Music at Hebrew College and the founder and artistic
director of the Zamir Choraie of Boston.

A Note on the Vocation of the Cantor

by Scott M.Sokol '

Consider the following Yiddish proverb:

,-ixn--pm *fix "wbtis isn ,baws n *px pan k pk im""**
.jm k t \ v » crrao pain i6n "waai

One is an expert on scholarly discourse, while another is an expert on
hoar's bristle, hut everyone is an expert on cantors'.

Although the saying is certainly funny on its face, I think we can get
more out of a proverb than simply a good laugh. As with most proverbs,
this one can be interpreted on several levels and some of these
interpretations I think maybe informative of Jewish attitudes about cantors.

To begin, we might ask ourselves the question, what sort of status do
cantors and the cantorate have that even jokingly we acknowledge
everyone's stake and expertise in what it is that they do? According to the
proverb, the status of chazzanut among our people is somewhere between
rabbinic discourse and knowledge of pig's hair, hopefully a bit closer to
the former than the latter. Given this opinion as a point of departure, I'd
like to consider briefly what it is about cantors and their communal role
that evokes such strong personal reactions.

Some definitional preliminaries seem in order. The term cantor is really
only one of many that is used to describe the role of liturgical chanter/
leader. Cantor of course means singer, from the Latin cantus. The Hebrew
term jTil/Hazzan is of uncertain origin, though there are some who
believe it related to the word JITn which indicates some sort of prophetic
role, that is the hazzan as "seer." I think the best term of use, though, is
TD^ wbw, the emissary or representative of the community. This of
course refers to the hazzan's role as emissary in prayer before G-d. First

1 This note was first delivered as a sermon on Shabbat Shirah. It is reprinted here in
honor of the recent 30th Yahrtzeit of Abraham Joshua Heschel (b"st).

and foremost, then, the hazzan is the n^SJl ^22 (yet another term), the
master of prayer, and in that mastery comes his or her greatest responsibility.

In the beginnings of institutionalized prayer, the hazzan was among the
few who even knew the "required" prayers; many Jews did not read Hebrew,
and certainly didn't have siddurim from which to pray. It was therefore
the sacred role of the hazzan to do the praying for the kahal. The rabbis
stated that if one heard a bracha (blessing) and responded "amen," that in
itself fulfilled one's obligation for the recitation of a particular prayer. In
later centuries, when more Jews had greater direct access to the required
prayers, the hazzan's role became more specialized. He then became
particularly expert in the crafting and rendering of piyutim, poetic insertions
interpolated within the required prayer canon. Many of these paytanic
insertions have remained in our service, especially during the High
Holidays. The hazzan still led the less specialized prayers as well, but the
craft of the hazzan soon lent itself to more of an art-form. The concept of
hidur mitzvah, the fulfillment of mitzvot in ever more beautiful ways, became
the raison d'etre of the hazzan. What emerged was an individual whose
talents, knowledge and piety permitted him to render the service carefully
and beautifully.

On this point of hiddur mitzvah, the Aruch haShulchan states the following:

msa bv nnniffa mprh p-r .trw 'npa n"apn inane? -<o
.rruri nxe? itbi

He who the Holy One Blessed be He has endowed with a pleasant voice,

let him sing to the Holy One Blessed be He at festivals in honor of the fulfillment

of a mitzvah, rather than at secular festivities.

This is in essence the Rabbinic prescription for the cantorial tradition.

Having a good voice, however, is seen by the rabbis as merely a necessary

characteristic for being a sheliach tsibbur; it is certainly not a sufficient one.

In fact, the Mishnah Brurah states quite clearly:

m'rsn ^apn rf'npn p* ,ibip rwr»: di»» ^bsnnb irrm urn

"If one is allowed to pray (as sheliach tsibbur) by merit of his voice alone, the
Holy One Blessed be He does not accept his prayers."

Indeed, the halachic requirements of a sheliach tsibbur are extensive, and
interestingly do not seem to apply to other individuals such as rabbis. In

42

addition to listing a large number of necessary attributes, the Mishnah
Brurah tells us that a sheliach tsibbur must be a "suitable person," and who
is considered suitable? One who is free of sin and whose reputation was
not defamed, even in his youth. Along these lines, we learn that even a
single congregant may protest and attain the dismissal of a sheliach tsibbur
of whom a continuous defamatory rumor is circulated.

The obvious question here is why? Why do our codes spend so much
time on the requirements and characteristics of the sheliach tsibbur! There
are probably several answers to this question, but I'd like to briefly explore
just two. The first has to do with the "magical" powers of music, and the
second with the sanctity and privacy of prayer itself.

The great Jewish philosopher and sage Abraham Joshua Heschel, wrote
a seminal essay entitled "The Vocation of the Cantor." 2 In it, Heschel
speaks at length about the spiritual power of music.

"The only language that seems to be compatible with the wonder and
mystery of being is the language of music. Music is more than just
expressiveness. It is rather a reaching out toward a realm that lies beyond
the reach of verbal propositions."
And then he states:

"Listening to great music is a shattering experience, throwing the soul
into an encounter with an aspect of reality to which the mind can never
relate itself adequately."

And just in case one were not sure of the primacy he ascribes to music,
Heschel goes on to say:

"I am neither a musician nor an expert on music. But the shattering
experience of music has been a challenge to my thinking on ultimate
issues. I spend my life working with thoughts. And one problem that
gives me no rest is: do these thoughts ever rise to the heights reached by
authentic music?"

Heschel's words are poetic and moving in their own right, but in addition
I think they speak to a very real truth about the ability of music to touch
the spirit in ways which words, even liturgical words are unable to do

2 Abraham Joshua Heschel, The Insecurity of Freedom. Schocken, 1972.

43

alone. The power of music is in this respect almost akin to magic or sorcery.
Indeed, people have often associated unusual musical talent with divine
or sometimes satanic powers. Nicolo Paganini, surely one of the greatest
violin and guitar virtuosi of all times, was in fact required to formally
swear that his musical abilities did not derive from the devil, so unbelievable
were his talents and their power to move people.

The rabbis, I think, were clearly aware of the ability of music and song to
move the spirit. Perhaps the most obvious example of this is the concept
of kol ishah, the proscription against hearing women's voices in the
synagogue and in public. According to certain authorities women's voices
are considereci too alluring for men to resist, and therefore must be avoided
in both prayer and secular settings. Of course, this thought is not unique
to Israel; the Sirens of classical mythology offer another example.

In Judaism, prophecy is likewise linked to music, although such a
discussion falls outside the purview of this brief note. In essence, it appears
that the detailed restrictions and regulations that the rabbis place on the
sheliach tsibbur are at least in part a result of their discomfiture with the
intimate powers of music and the voice, at least when properly channeled.
These halachot, then, serve as a system of checks and balances to prevent
undo control from someone who could be of suspect character.

The second — and perhaps more critical — reason for these halachot likely
has to do with the concept and practice of prayer and praying. Again,
quoting Heschel:

"The mission of a Cantor is to lead in prayer. He does not stand before
the Ark as an artist in isolation, trying to demonstrate his skill or to
display vocal feats. He stands before the Ark not as an individual but
with a Congregation. He must identify himself with the Congregation.
His task is to represent as well as to inspire a community. Within the
synagogue, music is not an end in itself but a means of religious
experience. Its function is to help us to live through a moment of
confrontation with the presence of God; to expose ourselves to Him in
praise, in self-scrutiny and in hope."
This is really an awesome task when you think about it, when you take it
seriously as hazzanim do. How can one possibly be an agent of confrontation
with the presence of God for oneself, let alone for a whole congregation?

44

How utterly impossible the task, and how utterly presumptuous the task-
master, this baal t'filahl And yet, that's what a cantor must do. This
sentiment is expressed vividly in the Hineni prayer from the High Holidays.
"Here I stand in utter humility before you O G-d, praying on behalf of
the people Israel who has placed me in this role of shlichut, although I am
entirely unworthy of the task."

I believe one final aspect to understanding our proverb completely involves
the expertise of the hazzan him/herself. The hazzan after all is also a maven,
specifically an expert on prayer, and has been invested thereby with a great
deal of authority and responsibility to represent the community before
G-d. Yet prayer is ultimately a personal enterprise, and as a result a hazzan
must be careful not to impose him- or herself too heavily on the prayer
practices of individuals, remembering instead that what and how a person
prays is truly sacred.

A moving illustration of this fact is found in the Seder Hasidim, a pietistic

work of the eleventh century attributed to Rabbi Yehudah HaHasid. The

story is told of an Israelite herdsman who did not know how to pray. 3

Each day, he would say, "Ribono Shel Olam, Master of the Universe,

it is obvious and known before You that if one had cattle for grazing

and gave them to me to protect, I would be paid for my services. But for

You, I would guard Your herd unpaid because I love You so dearly."

Once upon a time, a sage of Torah went on his way and found the
herdsman praying, "Ribono Shel Olam..." (in the manner that the
herdsman would pray everyday). The sage balked: "Fool, don't pray that
way." So the herdsman inquired, "How then should I pray?" The sage
agreed to teach the herdsman on the condition that he no longer pray
that which he had been accustomed to each day. And so the sage taught
the herdsman the blessing before and after the Shema, the Shema, and
the Amida.

Unfortunately, after the sage left, the herdsman forgot everything the
sage had taught him and ceased praying — even that prayer which he
had been accustomed to say. For he was afraid; the sage had forbid him
from uttering the prayer of his heart.

' This text was first taught to me by Rabbi Matthew Berkowitz.

45

That night, the sage had a dream and a voice said to him, "If you do
not tell the herdsman to say that which he had been used to saying
before you came to him. ..if you do not go to him — know that evil will
find you. For you have stolen a soul from the world to come."
Immediately, the sage went out and asked the herdsman, "What are
you praying?" The herdsman answered, "Nothing, for I have forgotten
what you taught me. And you also forbade me from saying my own
prayer." The sage recounted his dream to the herdsman and said, "Say
that which you were accustomed to pray."

Behold, the herdsman had no great learning or deeds to his credit,
but thought well of G-d and so he was raised to greatness. For G-d
desires the heart.

So perhaps in the end, it is to be entirely expected that hazzanim are held
so accountable to their congregations and congregants, that "everyone" in
a sense is a critic of what we do. Perhaps as our proverb tells us, every Jew
thinks him- or herself an expert on cantors, precisely because it is the job
of hazzanim to use their own expertise to understand and reach every Jew

Dr. Scott Sokol is Hazzan/ 'Spiritual Leader at Congregation Kehillath Israel in Brookline, MA
and director of the Jewish Music Institute and the Program in Special Education at Hebrew College.

46

The Musical Tradition of the Eastern
European Synagogue

Volume One (Two Parts)

1. Introduction History and Definition (277 pgs.)

2. Musical Examples (227 pgs.)
By Sholom Kalib

Syracuse University Press (2002) $59.95

Reviewed by Jerome B. Kopmar

In the Spring of 1978, while in the final preparations of Sholom Kalib's
monumental concert service for cantor and youth choir, The Day Of Rest,
he revealed to me the concepts of a project that he was about to under-
take; namely, the exploration and documentation of the Eastern Euro-
pean musical traditions, including historical data, and an analysis of its
various musical-liturgical traditions. After more than twenty years in which
Kalib transversed the United States, Canada, and Israel, to research his
project by interviewing and recording knowledgeable native Eastern Euro-
pean cantors and baaley t'filah (lay prayer leaders), the first volume, of
what will eventually be a five-volume (ten-book) thesaurus, has been pub-
lished by Syracuse University Press.

The impetus that made Kalib pursue this major effort — a task not
undertaken so extensively since A.Z. Idelsohn's ten-volume Thesaurus of
Hebrew Oriental Melodies in 1932 — was his firm belief that through
acculturation, sociological revolution, and assimilation, this musical
tradition which has been the primary synagogue musical expression of
United States Jewry as well as the Jews in the multitude of lands where
Jews emigrated from Eastern Europe during the 1880's through the
beginning of World War Two, is in a serious state of deterioration and
perhaps on the verge of extinction.

47

Sholom Kalib, a native of Dallas, Texas, was born in 1929. From his
early youth he was imbued with the love of Eastern European hazzanut
(cantorial art) and Biblical cantillation from his father, a son of a hazzan
(cantor), who not only taught him the various Eastern European nuschaot
(traditional prayer modes), but also the basics of sight-reading and the
ability to take musical dictation. When Kalib moved to Chicago after his
bar mitzvah, he entered a community that was at its zenith in terms of
hazzanic (cantorial) vibrancy. The young Kalib was exposed to an unceasing
wealth of knowledge of Eastern European hazzanut that became the
mother's milk of his love and devotion to this sacred tradition. Aside
from his benefiting from being able to learn first-hand from the master
hazzanim (cantors) who officiated in the many flourishing synagogues of
Chicago's West side at that time, he also aided these hazzanim by
transcribing and editing their music. He was closely associated with two
of the foremost cantors living in Chicago during that time, Joshua Lind
and Todros Greenberg (perhaps Kalib's greatest mentor and influence).
Kalib notated, arranged, and edited Greenberg's massive creative output
that led to their publications (1961-1978). He was also a practicing cantor
for many years, and until his recent retirement he was a professor of music
theory at Eastern Michigan University.

One can't help but be impressed, even awed, by what is represented in
the first two books of Volume 1: Part one, Introduction: History and Defini-
tion and Part 2. Musical Examples. Not only is the scholarship impressive
and thorough, but the manner in which it is presented is elucidating and
cogent. In the first volume, Introduction: History and Definition, the author
meticulously traces the historical development of his subject. He takes us
from the earliest developments of liturgical song from post Biblical times
to the present. He examines in minute detail the various aspects of syna-
gogue liturgical music: Biblical cantillation, the Missinai Tunes (melodies
created for individual texts in the eleventh through the sixteenth centu-
ries in Southwest Germany), the evolvement of the musical traditions of
the Eastern European synagogue, and does a complete study and analysis
of the nusach (traditional chant) that permeated this genre. There is also a
thorough examination of the art of hazzanut, including an in-depth study
of the techniques of the various musical embellishments that are so inher-
ent in Eastern European hazzanut. We are even exposed to a review of the
48

place of the choir in the synagogue service: its function vis-a-vis the hazzan,
the choral composers and their compositions, not only of Eastern Europe
but also those of Western and Central Europe who were so influential in
the choral development of Eastern European choral music. Also discussed
is the value, or lack of such, which our society and congregations place in
the choir. The author also gives a detailed chronology of the erosions of
Eastern European synagogue music that, Kalib asserts, began as early as
the latter part of the nineteenth century (i.e., during a time ironically
coincidental with its "golden" era), and which continues unabated to this
day.

The subjects are exhaustive in their depth and analysis. The
documentation is erudite and brilliantly conceived. Even those who have
been involved in synagogue music their entire lives will find these volumes
opening new vistas never realized, and will make one aware— even proud—
of the immense history and musical sophistication that we often take for
granted.

Every subject discussed in the first volume (Part 1: Text) contains musical
examples in the accompanying volume, (Part 2: Musical Examples). Not
only does Kalib musically elucidate his premises, but he also goes about
defining them through his multiple musical annotations. The research
here is voluminous, and the clarification he brings through the musical
examples are eye-opening and filled with expansive detail. In a method—
never seen by this writer— Kalib shows by comparison the derivation of the
various subjects he's discussing through layers of multiple examples. For
instance: in his discussion of how the prayer modes developed, one of his
musical examples shows how the Eastern European Viddui (confessional)
mode (recited during Yom Kippur) may have derived from the Yemenite
Psalm Mode. He illustrates this with three staves, one atop the other.
First he has the Yemenite Psalm Mode, the second is an example of the
Viddui mode as realized by Cantor Adolph Katchko, and the bottom staff
is an illustration of the Eastern European prelude to Oshamnu (the
confessional prayer recited during the Yom Kippur service). The examining
eye immediately sees the commonality of these three examples. Throughout
the volume, the musical examples bring to life with vivid clarity the author's
hypothesis presented in the text volume.

49

To be sure, a work of such scholarship and scope will not be easily
understood by everyone. But there is enough historical data in the text
volume that will be of great interest to those seeking a detailed historical
perspective of this fascinating subject, even those possessing limited musical
knowledge. On the other hand, even professional cantors and musicians
will be challenged in the study of the vast amount of knowledge that these
volumes offer. I might add that the idea of having two separate volumes,
one containing the text and the second the musical illustrations, is a very
good one. This will enable the reader to have both volumes open at the
same time instead of having to constantly refer to the back of the book for
the musical examples.

With these first volumes but an appetizer to the other volumes of this
thesaurus, we now anxiously anticipate their publication. The forthcoming
volumes are: Volume Two, The Weekday, Minor Holiday, and Life-Cycle
Event Services (at the time of this writing this volume is in the final stages
of completion); Volume Three, The Sabbath Services; Volume Four, The
Three Festival Services; and Volume Five, The High Holiday Services.
These volumes will come in the form of annotated anthologies, together
with recordings of their musical selections.

In a work of such magnitude there will surely be conclusions and points
of view essayed by the author that will be questioned and even disagreed
with. But, any work of great scholarship can only be judged by how much
interest and knowledge it brings to those who study it. Even if some of the
contents will cause disagreement— and they surely will— no one can ever
question the importance of this major work in the lexicon of synagogue
music scholarship, as well as the passion, love, sincerity, and intellectual
integrity put forth by the author.

At the time I was first apprised by Dr. Kalib of his intentions in writing
this work, my initial reaction was that this task will be an epitaph to the
glorious history of Eastern European synagogue music. After studying
and learning from this wonderful two-book volume, I now feel that its
publication may afford the subject a much-deserved renaissance.

Cantor Jerome B. Kopmar is cantor emeritus of Beth Abraham Synagogue in Dayton,
Ohio. He is also an adjunct professor of vocal studies at Sinclair Community College in
Dayton.

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V'Sham'ru#2

Dedicated to the Israel i ufthe CA Ml C November 2002

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\ 1 I I J I J i I J J J II J

~r — r r r y. r w r r r

Dr. Ricfiard Berlin is Hainan/Spiritual Leader at Parkway Jewish Center (Sha'ar HaShamayim)
in Pittsburgh, PA. A member of ASCAP himself, he is also the Founder and President of Prose &
Con Spirito, Inc., a Publisher Member of ASCAP.

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