Cantors Assembly Journal of Synagogue Music

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mejouwflk or syweoGae music

EDITOR: Joseph A. Levine
ASSOCIATE EDITOR: Richard Berlin

EDITORIAL BOARD

Neil Blumofe, Geoffrey Goldberg, Daniel Katz, Lilly Kaufman, Robert Kieval,
Kimberly Komrad, Sheldon Levin, Laurence Loeb, Brian Mayer, Solomon
Mendelson, Neil Schwartz, David Sislen, Beth Weiner, Sam Weiss

The Journal of Synagogue Music (ISSN 1449-5128) is published an-
nually by the Cantors Assembly. It offers articles and music of broad
interest to the hazzan and other Jewish music professionals. Articles of
any length will be considered, from 1,000 to 10,000 words.

GUIDELINES FOR SUBMITTING MATERIAL

All contributions and communications should be sent to the Editor:

Dr. Joseph A. Levine, 1900 Rittenhouse Square, Philadelphia, PA 19103.

Textual and musical material, whether solicited or submitted, should

be double-spaced in an 8 1/2 x 11 -inch format, with a two-sentence

biographical note appended.

Original copies may be submitted on paper or as attachment to an e-

mail. Please include street address, e-mail address, telephone and fax

numbers.

Reference notes are to be placed at the bottom of each page, and should

conform to the following style:

A. Abraham Idelsohn. Jewish Liturgy (New York: Holt, 1932), 244.

B. Samuel Rosenbaum. "Congregational Singing," Proceedings of the Cantors Assembly
Convention (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary), February 22, 1949: 9-11.

Design and Layout by Prose & Con Sp

© Copyright 2005 by the Cantors Assembly. ISSN 0449-5128

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The Journal of §gnagogu£ Music

VOLUME 30 NUMBER 1 FALL 2005

FROM THE EDITOR:

The Issue of Congregational Singing: A Question of Proportion v

SYMPOSIUM: CONGREGATIONAL SINGING
THEORETICAL ARTICLES

The Cantor's Musical Needs

Samuel Rosenbaum 1

The Responsive Forms in Jewish Liturgy

Max Wohlberg 7

Aspects of Congregational Song in the German Synagogue
up until the Shoah

Geoffrey Goldberg 13

Emissary in Prayer or Song Leader? What the Rabbinic Responsa
Have to Say

Akiva Zimmermann 54

The Cantor's Spiritual Challenge: Defining "Agency" in Prayer

Benjie Ellen Schiller 59

Congregational Singing as a Norm of Performance within
the Modal Framework of Ashkenazi Liturgical Music

Boaz Tarsi 63

DENOMINATIONAL ARTICLES

Congregational Singing in Chasidic Congregations

Sam Weiss 96

Impressions of Congregational Singing in an Orthodox Service

Judah Leon Magnes 102

Congregational Singing and Congregational Silence:
Eastern and Western Sephardim Attend the Same Service

Joseph A. Levine 104

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Tunes of Engagement: Using Congregational Melodies
To Combat Alienation in Conservative Worship

Neil Schwartz 110

Shul Has New Tunes, Less Harmony: an Informed
Reaction to the Reconstructionist Approach

Morton Gold 140

Miracle on Bathurst Street: A Reform Revolution

Benjamin Z. Maissner 142

OBSERVATIONAL ARTICLES

The Elu V'Elu ('Both / And") of Synagogue Music —
A View from the Other Side of the Bimah

Herbert Bronstein 152

New Cantor on the Block - How a Recent Graduate
was Saved by a Congregational Melody

Ken Richmond 159

A British-Accented Voice from the Pews

Philip Lachman 165

Lights, Camera, Chazzones! — A Director's Cut

Erik Greenberg Anjou 169

Caught on Hazzanet - Views from Cyberspace

Richard Berlin 173

The Israeli Scene: A Cross-Section of One City

Yossi Zucker 183

PRACTICAL ARTICLES

The Birth of an Idea — Commissioning Music for Cantor
and Trained Congregational Choir

Solomon Mendelson 190

Music on the Balanced Bimah — How a Composer Sees It

Michael Isaacson 198

The Tune's the Thing — Lessons Learned
in a Half-Century as Cantor / Composer

Charles Davidson 204

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What's Wrong with My Adon Olam: A Hazzan / Educator's Checklist

Jeffrey Myers 208

Friday Night Alive — Without Instruments! 'Drawn from
Popular, Chasidic and Classic Jewish Musical Styles

Mark Biddelman 213

Chavurat HaZemer - An Informal Congregational Singing Group

Iris Beth Weiner 220

LITERARY GLIMPSES OF THE CANTORATE

The Jew Who Destroyed the Temple

Abraham Reisen (1876-1953) 225

REVIEWS OF BOOKS, RECORDINGS AND FILMS

Zamru Lo - the Next Generation — Congregational

Melodies for Shabbat,

Compiled and Edited by Jeffrey Shiovitz (Cantors Assembly, 2004)

Robert Scherr 228

Is There T'fillah after Daven'n? Joseph A. Levine's

Rise and Be Seated - The lips and Downs of Jewish Worship

(Jason Aronson, 2001)

Gershon Freidlin 231

Two CDs of Victorian Era Music In British Synagogues:

The Western Ashhkenazic and Spanish Portuguese Traditions

Laurence D. Loeb, photo by Leon Kellerman) 234

The Memoirs and Lost Recordings of a British Cantor / Survivor:

1. In and out of Harmony

2. Charles lowy — The lost Recordings

Abraham Salkov 237

The Hasidic Nigun As Sung By The Hasidim —

2-CD set and booklet

Published by The Jewish Music Research Center, Jerusalem

Sam Weiss 240

Atchalta DiG'ulah or The Last Hurrah? Erik Greenberg Anjou's
Film on the Life and Work of Hazzan Jacob Ben-Zion Mendelson

Gershon Freidlin 241

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MUSIC OLD AND NEW

SHABBAT

Yedid Nefesh — a Solo Chant for the Second Verse

Abba Yosef Weisgal 244

Congregational Sim Shalom

Sholom Kalib 245

FESTIVALS
Congregational Adir Adireinu

attributed to Ahron Gruenzweig (ca. 1890) 246

Congregational VeKareiv Pezureinu

recorded by Mordechai Hershman (ca. 1935) 246

HIGH HOLY DAYS

Congregational Mechalkel Chayim ^

Sholom Kalib 247 ^

Havein YakirLi Efrayim — for Congregation with Cantorial Solo

after J. Spivak 247

LIFE CYCLE EVENTS

Baruch HaBa and Mi Adir from an Unfinished Wedding Service

Abraham Salkov (2005) 248

Birchat SheHecheyanu

Richard Berlin (2005) 251

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FROM THE EDITOR

The Issue of Congregational Singing: a Question of
Proportion

Communal song is nothing new to Jewish worship. At the shores of Yam Suf,
Israel celebrated its deliverance in an emotional outpouring of song - the
first time an entire people had sung unto God since the world's creation, ac-
cording to the Midrash. 1 And it was far from the last time. Throughout the
Biblical, Classical and Exilic eras, whether in Baghdad or Berlin, Vienna or
Vilna, Jews voiced their prayers to God through song.

They were led by a hazzan - because it is easier to lead a group than to
sway the behavior of individuals. Their singing was sometimes in unison and
sometimes in the form of call and response with the leader. But to charac-
terize our people's habitual participation in worship as anything other than
congregational singing is to misconstrue its underlying dynamic: a hazzan
cues the worshipers through song and is cued by their singing in turn. 2

This characteristic back-and-forth may have been shunted aside in East-
ern Europe by the musical subtlety of virtuoso hazzanic and choral singing,
both of which reached their zenith during the late-nineteenth century 3 It
may also have been supplanted in America by responsive readings in English
throughout the twentieth century 4 Yet, we have evidence of its persistence
despite all odds. A medieval rabbinic responsum of Warnings to Hazzanim 5
cautions against "the undue proliferation of melodies, lest even a single
worshiper seize upon the general singing as a pretext for conversing." As the

1 Exodus Raba 15:1.

2 Samuel Heilman. Synagogue Life (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1976),
87-88.

3 Sholom Kalib. The Musical Tradition of the Eastern European Synagogue, Vol. I
(Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 2002), 87, 174.

4 Abraham Idelsohn. Jewish Liturgy (New York: Holt, 1932), 294; referring to the
Union Prayer Book of 1894, whose bilingual-but-mostly-English format would be
imitated, to greater or lesser degrees, by prayer books of every other national religious
movement over the next hundred years.

5 "Azharot le-Hazzanim" (MS in Strashun Library, Vilna), reprinted in Die Shut Un
Die Chazzonim Velt (Warsaw: December, 1937: 1-3), cited in Aki\
Sha'arei Ron (Tel Aviv: self- published, 1992), 225.

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twentieth century progressed, American Conservative cantors realized that
prayers had to revolve around the congregation even when the prayer was
sung solo, as a hazzanic recitative. Accordingly, the more progressive minded
among them "would involve worshipers at the beginning, in a congregational
melody, then develop the recitative; and end by bringing the congregation
in to the conclusion of the prayer." 6 At century's end, an American Reform
rabbi waxed nostalgic over the old-time cantors who "broke open the heart
of the people ... by bringing the congregation into participation by a beloved
and familiar melody" 7

Congregational singing in contemporary synagogues may actually be more
restrained than its Middle Eastern and Eastern European antecedents in which
individuals followed their own temperamental proclivities. 8 Nevertheless, this
wild but wondrous expression of Jewish religiosity can still be heard - inter
alia - as accompaniment to the waving of Lulav and Etrog during Hallel reci-
tation and as reinforcement of the priestly Duchan'n (public blessing of the
people from the synagogue Bimah) on Festivals, as musical "sighs" ushering
in the conclusion of every High Holy Day blessing, as mood setters for the
Kabbalat Shabbat and Havdalah services and as ululating counterpoint to the
frenzied dancing that erupts when a bride is veiled just before the wedding
ceremony.

What underscores all of these ritual moments is their rarity. Were the Lu-
lav waved every Shabbat, its pointing in all directions including heaven and
earth would no longer seem magical, and the tune that worshipers sang to
accompany each of its movements would lose much of its mystery. Just so, if
we assign too much communal song to the assemblage the service becomes a
sing-along, and if worshipers have too little to do they quickly lose interest. 9

6 Julius Blackman. "The Hazzan - as Seen from a Seat in the Congregation" Journal
of Synagogue Music (July/December 1993; recounting a conversation with Hazzan
Charles Sudock of New Haven, CT in the mid-1950s), 38-39.

7 Herbert Bronstein. "The Elu V'Elu (both/and) of Synagogue Music," CCAR Journal,
Summer 1998: 78.

8 Abraham Idelsohn. Thesaurus of Hebrew Oriental Melodies: The Synagogue Songs
of the Eastern European Jews, Vol. XVIII (Leipzig: Hofmeister, 1932), vi.

9 Virgil Funk. "Building a Relationship with God, while Enabling the Congrega-
tion to Pray through Music." Academic Conference Commemorating the School of
Sacred Music's Fiftieth Anniversary New York: Hebrew Union College), November
24, 1998.

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It's a question of how we delegate the singing. Responsive chanting, with the
hazzan initiating and the congregation concluding every verse, might be one
way to maintain the fragile balance between solo performance and group
participation — at least part of the time.

In this sense, piyyutim — poetic additions to the liturgy - can be considered
the aggadic portion of tefillah, and matbei'a - "coined;" i.e., statutory prayers
- its halachic portion. Just as the rabbis looked down upon the Talmud's ag-
gadic component for centuries while the masses were drawn to it, they ha-
bitually frowned upon linguistically imaginative prayers, the ones that people
specifically craved. Not all piyyutim met with rabbinic disapproval. Certain
of them gained universal favor because their short, pithy phrases presented
opportunities for a chanted call and response between prayer leader and
worshipers. The hazzan's call was typically broad and evocative in order to
fire people's imaginations, so that their replies could be concise, to the point,
and easy to remember. The Mishnah states this formula succinctly: sho'eil
k'inyan umeishiv kahalachah ("pose the question according to subject; and
give the answer according to rule"). 10 Goldfarb's responsive melody for Elazar
ha-Kallir's L'Eil Oreich Din ("To God Who Judges;" High Holy Day Shacharit
Amidah) offers a parade example, with congregation always responding to
the same musical motif. 11

The twenty-four symposium entries in this issue will shed more light on the
matter, from various angles. The discussion opens with a reprint of former
CA Executive Vice President Samuel Rosenbaum's statement of the case for
congregational singing back in 1949, at the organization's Second Annual
Convention. 12 In that brief talk he visited almost all of the arguments - pro
and con - that still surround this vital issue over a half-century later.

Rosenbaum countered his contemporaries' prophecies of doom and gloom
("encouraging too much congregational singing may hurt eventually the status
of the hazzan" 13 ) with an insight that was amazingly prescient.

10 Pirke Avot, 5:9.

11 Israel & Samuel G oldfarb. Synagogue Melodies for the High Holy Days (Brooklyn,
NY: self-published, 1955), p. 19.

12 Samuel Rosenbaum. "Congregational Singing," Proceedings of the Cantors Assem-
bly Convention (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary), February 22, 1949: 9-11.

13 Ephraim Rosenberg. "The Orthodox Approach to Hazzanut." Proceedings of the
Cantors Assembly Convention (1962: 10).

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If the cantorate is to remain a vital force in the synagogue it must utilize another

means of participation [than the hazzanic recitative] for the vast majority of our

worshipers. Congregational singing is such a device... It automatically changes

the function of the cantor from that of an occasional luxury to a daily religious

necessity.

The fact is that every generation re-creates synagogue song in its own im-
age, and Sam Rosenbaum was ahead of his generation in acknowledging that
reality. His idea for an informal study group whose curriculum would include
congregational singing is realized in the final entry of our Symposium on
Congregational Singing: Beth Weiner's chronicle of a Chavurat Zemer that
she initiated in Baltimore's Beth Am and continued in Jerusalem's Mevak-
shei Derech. The intervening Symposium articles fall under four headings:
Theoretical; Denominational; Observational; and Practical.

Theoretical articles - in addition to Sam Rosenbaum's — include a Tal-
mud-based discussion of the liturgy's responsive forms by Max Wohlberg who
taught two generations of cantorial students at JTS, an historical overview of
congregational song in German synagogues by Geoffrey Goldberg, a summary
of rabbinic responsa on the subject by Akiva Zimmermann, an essay on the
meaning of "agency" in prayer by Benjie Ellen Schiller and a musicological
analysis of congregational song's modal underpinning by Boaz Tarsi.

Denominational articles show how congregational singing varies among
the different movements, in reports by Sam Weiss (on Chasidism), Judah
Leon Magnes (on Orthodoxy), Joseph A. Levine (on the Western Sephardic
rite), Neil Schwartz (on Conservatism and the influence of its Ramah sum-
mer camps), Morton Gold (an informed reaction to the Reconstructionist
approach) and Benjamin Maissner (on how he revolutionized a Classical
Reform rite).

Observational articles present five consumer views of congregational
singing from widely disparate perspectives: Herbert Bronstein (a Reform
rabbi who chaired the CCAR liturgy Committee); Ken Richmond (a recent
JTS Miller School graduate); Philip Lachman (a layman active in the London
Jewish community); Richard Berlin (Associate Editor of the Journal, who has
garnered opinions from Hazzanet, the Cantors Assembly's internet server);
and Yossi Zucker (a music publisher living in the Israeli city of Kfar Sava).

Practical articles offer six producers of congregational singing material
who discuss not only how they've planted it in formerly barren areas and
broadened its scope where it did exist, but in one case, created it from scratch.
Solomon Mendelson spent a good part of his cantorial career raising funds to

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n it, while Michael Isaacson and Charles Davidson stood foremost
among composers who received such commissions. Hazzan / Educational
Director Jeffrey Myers quantifies and qualifies it in pedagogical terms, while
Mark Biddleman adopts an accompanied form of it to usage in Conservative
synagogues that do not permit the use of instruments on Shabbat. Iris Beth
Weiner shows how Sam Rosenbaum's theoretical call for involving worshipers
in the liturgy through an informal singing group can work in practice.

A new section debuts with this issue: Literary Glimpses of the Cantorate.

Sometimes verbal, at other times graphic, published references to the canto-
rial art in Jewish culture are always fleeting. This is true of Abraham Reisen's
story, TheMan Who Destroyed the Temple, which touches upon congregational
singing in the heartland of early twentieth- century America.

Our Reviews section also adheres to the theme of this special issue. Robert
Scherr evaluates the latest edition oiZamru Lo, formally introducing a new
generation of congregational melodies for Shabbat (edited by Jeffrey Shiovitz,
Cantors Assembly, 2004). Gershon Freidlin posits a reason of his own for
the surrealistic portrait of contemporary synagogue practice painted by my
Rise and Be Seated: the Ups and Downs of Jewish Worship (Jason Aronson,
2001). Laurence Loeb compares two recently released CDs that present the
traditional sacred musical repertoire of British Jewry during its nineteenth-
century heyday, harmonized and performed by hazzan and four-part male
choir in the Spanish/Portuguese and Western Ashkenazic rites. The record-
ings of a Hungarian-born hazzan - Charles Lowy - who survived Auschwitz
and emigrated to Glasgow in 1947, were considered lost after his death, until
rediscovered by his children. Our late colleague Abraham Salkov reacts to
the CD and memoir that Cantor Lowy's son and daughter produced in their
father's memory, and Gershon Freidlin questions whether a newly released
film documentary on the life and work of the CAs immediate past president,
Jacob Ben-Zion Mendelson, might better be titled "The Last Hurrah."

Under Music-Old and New we publish congregationally oriented set-
tings for Shabbat, Festivals and High Holidays, plus selections from an
unfinished work and a celebration benediction for cantor and congrega-
tion. Abba Weisgal's chant for the second verse of Y'did Nefesh will nicely
offset either of the congregational melodies on pages 10 and 12 of the new
Zamru Lo, and Sholom Kalib's Sim Shalom reflects the composer's refined
musical sensibility. A Mozartean Adir Adireinu for Festival Musaf Kedushah
is attributed to Ahron Gruenzweig, cantor in the Reform temple of Arad,

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Hungary (now Western Rumania) late in the 19 th century, while an unattrib-
uted though equally rhythmic VeKareiv Pezureinu was recorded by Cantor
Mordechai Hershman in the mid-1930s. Sholom Kalib crafted his High Holy
Day Mechalkeil Chayim for ultimate singability in the gentle folk style of an
earlier age, and the pastoral melody for Havein Yakir Li - for congregation
with cantorial solo - is adapted from J. Spivak's setting of Isaiah 52:7. The
fresh and uplifting "Baruch Haba" and "Mi Adir" from recently deceased CA
member Abraham Salkov's unfinished Wedding Service appear under Life
Cycle music along with a participatory Birkat SheHecheyanu by our Associ-
ate Editor, Richard Berlin.

Regular readers of the Journal will notice additional innovations. The pho-
tograph of a 1701 London synagogue's interior accompanies an appreciation
of its musical heritage. This issue is perfect bound, its spine squared off and
imprinted for easy identification on a bookshelf. With the Journal's return
to a guaranteed annual schedule we were emboldened to try and attract a
wider readership base by reaching out to members of the ACC (American
Conference of Cantors) and GTM (Guild of Temple Musicians). Their posi-
tive response encouraged our Editorial Board to solicit advertisements of
materials and services used regularly by our readers. The results appear in
the back of this book, just before an outline of the 2006 issue's theme and
contents.

As this expanded Journal went to press, word arrived that Abraham Shap-
iro, the CA's long-time Executive Administrator and hazzan of Beth David in
Lynbrook, NY, had passed away suddenly. My generation had never known
an Assembly without Abe's radiant smile and unfailingly sound advice. His
absence will take some getting used to, as we dedicate the current issue to
this beloved friend, teacher and exceptional kibitzer whose life was defined by
his love for his family, by davening for his congregation and by the sensible,
honest and extremely patient work he did with us and on behalf of us; which
amounted to pastoral work with virtually the entire Assembly at one point or
another in all of our lives. 14
Abraham B. Shapiro - Avraham Dov-Ber ben Yosefve-Chinke - 1926-2005

Joseph A. Levine

14 Lilly Kaufman, posting on Hazzanet, August 4, 2005.

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A Symposium: Congregational Singing
Theoretical Articles

The Cantor's Musical Needs

by Samuel Rosenbaum

Writing in the short lived Jewish Music Journal of June 1935, a well known
cantor had this to say in the concluding paragraph of an article on "Congre-
gational Singing":

It can be said that congregational singing will never entirely disappear from
the Jewish American scene. But as soon as the economic depression has been
passed and synagogues again begin hiring professional choirs, congregational
singing will revert to its proper status, analogous to that of the English hymns
in our Reform Temples.

For better or for worse our colleague's prophecy has not materialized.
Almost 15 years have passed since it was made; we have seen the depres-
sion give way to recovery and then to war. We are now riding the crest of a
fantastic financial boom and still there is no evidence of the demise of this
practice. What may have started as a substitute for the professional choirs
has grown into a popular practice in its own right. The demand for it has
increased constantly.

The use of congregational singing has in turn had a pronounced effect on
the form of our worship. The modern service can no longer be the rambling
haphazard gossip session of old to be relieved by an occasional cantorial show
piece or mumbled prayer. The modern average worshipper has little Jewish
education or background. While he is thus retarded Jewishly, his aesthetic
values have gone steadily higher. His interest cannot be held over a regular
long time period with a weekly diet of vocal acrobatics and improvisation.
But it can be held by permitting him to participate on his own level in at least
part of the service through the medium of congregational singing.

It seems to me that the members of this Assembly must be willing and able
to take a fresh view of our profession and the needs of our congregations.
We must face the facts as they really are. Our whole synagogue structure
is assuming a new look. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, but certainly we are
evolving a new Jewish-American pattern. The synagogue is drawing to it a
whole generation of Jews whose parents had almost given them up as lost to
the Jewish community and synagogue.

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The needs of this generation are therefore entirely different from the needs
of their grandfathers. They do not want their cantor to entertain them with
vocal histrionics in the synagogue. They can hear all the opera they want
in other places. And who will deny that this is all to the good? Their Jewish
education and background are meager and they have achieved a worldliness
and sophistication that their grandfathers would have considered profane;
they, therefore, get little inspiration or pleasure from the form of service that
pleased their grandfathers.

We can all remember how the worshippers of years ago, roused to great
heights by a particularly moving cantorial recitative, would indicate their
appreciation by plunging ahead loudly into the next paragraph while the last
notes of the cantor still hung on in the air. Today, we rarely, if ever, hear this
appreciative hum of renewed prayer after a recitative. We are usually greeted
by a loud and embarrassing silence broken only here and there by the prayer
of a bearded oldster. The sad truth is that the great majority of our congrega-
tions cannot participate in the service on the oldster's level. They sit in silence
impatiently awaiting the sermon.

It seems obvious that if the cantorate is to remain a vital force in the syna-
gogue it must utilize another means of participation for the vast majority of
our worshippers.

Congregational singing is such a device. It offers the opportunity to par-
ticipate musically and in the original Hebrew under the leadership of the
cantor. It automatically changes the function of the cantor from that of an
occasional luxury to a daily religious necessity; from a star performer to a
religious official ministering to the congregation in his chosen field of music.
The cantor must become, as has the rabbi, a leader and a teacher. He is the
one person in the synagogue picture best fitted by virtue of talent, training
and background to select, teach and lead the music of the service.

There are those who will complain that because congregational singing
must of necessity be of a simple nature it will bring with it a lowering of the
cantor's art. I should remind them that simplicity is not necessarily a synonym
for mediocrity. While the great cantorial recitatives of the past centuries are
almost forgotten, the skarhove (sacred old) motifs remain alive and in use
to this day. Certainly their endurance and vitality are eloquent testimony to
their greatness. No one will debate the facts that the aforementioned recita-
tives were works of pure artistry in their time, but the shabby imitations that
followed them, like mushrooms the rain, so cheapened this form that even
the original gems have lost their lustre.

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The cantor need not confine himself to simple nusach (the ongoing modal
chant) alone, The recitative has its place, even in the modern synagogue. But
it should be chosen and presented with care.

The cantor must be prepared to interpret and emphasize some of the
liturgy in the form of soundly constructed, non-repetitive recitatives. He
should also be prepared to allow the congregation to participate in the form
of congregational singing to the full extent of its abilities.

The service must become a well planned, carefully timed and meaningful
period of devotion with the cantor, rabbi and congregation participating to the
utmost each in his own way, thus making or it a warm but impressive religious
experience. We should remember that the refrain Lishmoa el harinah v'el
hat'fillah is an exhortation to the Almighty and not to the congregation.

The first step in the introduction of congregational singing is a careful analy-
sis of the structure of the service. This should be done in close conjunction
and cooperation with the rabbi. The purpose of the analysis is to determine
the overall length of the service; the approximate time to be devoted to the
sermon; the selection of appropriate English and Hebrew readings and their
placement at such places as will afford the cantor a respite at the most op-
portune point.

It should then be decided which sections can be adapted to congregational
singing permanently (i.e., at all services). These sections should be introduced
first.

Using the Sabbath Morning Service as an example, I think that those
prayers having to do with the taking out and replacing the torah scrolls can
be permanently assigned to the congregation. In addition to these sections
the only others which are permanently assigned to the congregation are Em
Kelohenu, Aleinu and the closing hymn.

Once these permanent fixtures are established the cantor can then intro-
duce as many or as few additional melodies as conditions will permit. These
selections need not be permanently assigned to the congregation but can
be alternated between them and the cantor at the latter 's convenience and
discretion. If the cantor will only adopt a standard introductory phrase the
congregation will soon learn whether or not it is to sing.

Once a plan has been decided upon the cantor's next task is the choice of
the actual melodies. Extreme care should be exercised here. The melodies
should be in good taste - non-secular and within the bounds of the nusach.
At first, the melodies should be lyric and rhythmic; afterward when the con-
gregation has become accustomed to singing, the cantor can lead them into

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more complex intervals and rhythms melodies should be in keeping with
the meaning of the text. Above all, let us leave the arias and the folk tunes
on the stage where they belong. Musically, the tunes should have a narrow
range and be pitched low enough for the congregation to sing easily. As for
sources - there are several good volumes available; those of Israel Goldfarb
and of our own president, Max Wohlberg being my own particular favorites.
A new collection by another esteemed colleague, Gershon Ephros and the
late Jacob Beimel is another excellent source. Unless the cantor is particularly
talented and especially trained, original compositions should be used only
after careful and impartial soul searching.

It is a good idea not to throw out any melodies one finds upon arrival at a
new congregation, even though they may not be of the highest quality. They
give the cantor something to work with and the outright removal of such
sections is likely to meet with a storm of protest from the congregation that
may have become fond of these particular selections. After the cantor has
added other new compositions and has gained the musical confidence of the
congregation, he can begin to replace the undesirables. If a cantor is fortunate
enough to find good selections in his congregation's repertoire he should not
be too proud to continue to utilize them; gold is where you find it.

The next and perhaps greatest problem is, of course, teaching the melodies.
There are several methods, none of which will work for more than 25% of the
time. But all of them together help somewhat. The most obvious method is for
the cantor to sing the melody - clearly, rhythmically and with no variations
week after week. The rabbi can help by announcing a new melody before it
is sung, and by urging the congregation to join in. He should, of course, set
them a good example by joining in himself.

The learning process can be speeded up by supplying the congregation
with mimeographed or printed music together with the transliterated texts.
Although relatively few worshippers can read music, it is of some assistance
to the few who can do so. When these few have learned the melody they will
automatically become the leaders in the congregation and unconsciously
help the others to learn.

The cantor can go a step further. He can organize a chorus and/or a study
group. The chorus will attract the singers in the congregation who have a little
musical ability. This group can add the synagogue melodies to its repertoire
and sing them as a group at the service; thus strengthening the leadership
of the cantor.

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The study group, however, is even more practical. I have found that most
people sing a little; but are not anxious to join a group that requires the disci-
pline, rehearsal and time that a chorus does. Some are shy about singing in a
choir in public. The study group makes no such requirements of its members.
The group meets once a week under the direction of the cantor. The curriculum
consists of musical and non-musical subjects. Part of the time is devoted to
a discussion of the structure of the service, reading practice or another allied
subject. This is alternated with the teaching and singing of the congregational
melodies. Since the members are not asked to perform as a group (as in the
case of the chorus) the cantor need do a minimum of drilling. He merely
acquaints the students with the melodic line. If they so desire, they repeat a
selection. If they do not, they go on to another. Some members don't even
sing: they just listen. But it all serves a purpose. When these people get into
the Temple at a service, each student sitting in his favorite place, each cloaked
in the anonymity of the whole crowd and in the obscurity of numbers, they
do sing. Since they are already familiar with the selections their contribution
is important and helpful.

Of course, if the congregation is blessed with a more extroverted type of
membership, mah na'im u-mah tov, then by all means, the training of an
amateur chorus is indicated and should be encouraged.

Synagogue singing should also be organized on the children's level in the
form of Junior Congregations; when the adults can be of no assistance the
cantor should not hesitate to turn to the youngsters for help. Lots of the
time they learn more quickly and more easily than their elders. If the Temple
boasts of a volunteer or professional choir it can be of great assistance, too.
The cantor must see to it, however, that they use simple, unison, or at most
- two part arrangements of those selections that the congregation is to learn.
The worshippers will be discouraged from singing by a choir that attempts
to teach with elaborate, four part contrapuntal arrangements. Those cantors
who have an organ at their disposal have the best answer to the educational
problem, provided the organist observes the same cautions as have been
i for the choir.

It should be remembered that a congregation can benefit from congrega-
tional singing though it have a professional choir, an organ or both, Some-
how, group-singing gives a satisfaction to the participants which no finished
performance by professionals can match.

One final thought on our proposed congregational songster. The Assembly's
music committee should continue to examine all available compositions as well
as all new ones, as they come along. If the compositions meet the standards

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set for congregational melodies, the Assembly should immediately publish
them and provide copies to all members. The selections could be published
on a regular monthly or bi-monthly basis without waiting for a large number
to accumulate, in an inexpensive mimeograph or offset form. If these releases
will be made in loose-leaf form, each cantor will automatically amass his own
volume. At the end of a year or two the selected melodies can be published
in more permanent form.

In conclusion may I voice the hope that my suggestions have given you
some food for thought and consideration. They are made with the prayer
that they will in some small way help raise to the highest, the art and the
prestige of our sacred calling. This calling has faltered many times but has
been revived each time by forward looking men. Let us be worthy of them.
L'chu n'rannenah la-Adonai.

Samuel Rosenbaum (1920-1997) was hazzan at Temple Beth El of Rochester, NY
from 1946 until 1987. He served the Cantors Assembly as president, and then as
executive vice-president for almost forty years. An outstanding poet, he excelled at
writing texts for musical works presented on radio and television, and in translat-
ing Yiddish folk songs. This article is based on a a talk given at the Second Annual
Cantors Assembly Convention, New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, February
22, 1949.

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The Responsive Forms in Jewish Liturgy

by Max Wohlberg

In discussing congregational singing we ought to consider that many of our
younger congregants belong to the so-called "me" generation. We are not
to assume that these congregants are content to sit back and listen. They
want to participate in the prayers, and I think we ought to give them every
opportunity to do so.

Prayer, as was said by HaRav Kook, is a human need. Prayer is a great
compulsion and at the same time a great pleasure that is afforded to us.
Originally, prayer was free, unorganized. Joseph Karo writes in Mechkarim
B'Toldot T'fiUah:

In earlier times prayer was not fixed or ordered. If a man felt the need to pray,
he prayed. And if not, he didn't pray. And the one who prayed, prayed what he
felt in his heart. There was no definite formula whereby he prayed. It appears
that this situation continued throughout the existence of the First temple. We
have mention in the Book of Daniel that three times a day the prophet knelt
down and prayed. What the content of the prayer was, we do not know.

Gradually, prayer was participated in more and more by the public, not
so much in Bayit Rishon. But in the Second Temple there were refrains and
responses that the congregation offered:

Hoshanah;

Aneinu;

Ki L'Olam Chasdo;

Halleluyah.
Later came:

Baruch sheim k'vod malchuto I'olam va'ed;

Y'heh sh'meh rabbah m'varach I'alam ul'almei almaya;

Baruch Adonai ham'vorach I'olam va'ed;
and still later:

Amein.

Prayers expanded with establishment of the synagogue itself. I must tell
you that the beit hak'nesset was not accepted immediately by everybody. We
read further.

Many of the people had a feeling of indifference to the synagogue and did not go

there to pray. Not only the common folk (amei ha'arets) but even many scholars

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(chachamim) decided that where they studied they should also pray, and not
in the beit hak'nesset. There were some sages who occasionally did pray in the
synagogue, and some who did not. We are told that when Rabbi Akiva prayed
with the people (tsibbur) he kept his t'fillah short. He did not want to burden
the congregation. But after praying privately, his disciples would find him on
the far side of the room from where he had begun.

So, obviously Akiva prayed either at home or in the beit hak'nesset.

As to the origin of the prayers, our greatest authority is Yosef Heinemann
and in the volume HaT'fillah BiT'kufot HaTana'im V'ha-Amora'im, he shows,
I think convincingly, that the the prayers have three sources: the Beit HaMik-
dash; the Beit Midrash (house of study); and the Beit HaK'nesset. Many of us
speak of the matbei'ah shel t'fillah ("the coin that the sages minted in prayer")
and we hold it holy and inviolable; we cannot change it, we cannot alter it.
But we must remember that the matbei'ah was not always set as it is today.
As a matter of fact, Josef Heinemann points out that the forms of the t'fillah
were not composed by the great halachists, but were created by the people
as they were praying. It was a sort of widespread improvisation, in different
places and at different times. Only in a later period did the sages come to
establish a fixed order and to decide which prayer formulas to accept from
among the various ones that had arisen over time.

Unfortunately, the prayers were not written down. Dr. Moshe Zucker of
the Seminary would quote you the page in the Talmud where it says: those
who write down the b'rachot, it is as if they had burned the Torah. It was an
oral tradition, and that had a great many consequences. The sha"tz (sh'li'ach
tsibbur) was one who memorized the b'rachot and t'fillot, and our profession
actually dates back to those days.

When they read the Sh'ma in the synagogue, one of the congregation read it out

loud. [He didn't approach the pulpit, incidentally, but stood up in his place and

read out loud.] He read the b'rachot and paragraphs preceding and following

the Sh'ma, and thereby fulfilled the obligation [of reciting the Sh'ma] for those

who could not read.

The people knew the Sh'ma / V'hayah Im Shamo'ah / VaYomer paragraphs

because they were written in the Torah, but the two b'rachot that preceded

Sh'ma and the one b'rachah that followed it [in Ma'ariv originally and in

Shacharit to this day] they did not know.

We come to the K'dushah because within the b'rachot preceding Sh'ma
we have the essential verses with which the congregation responds in
any K'dushah:

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♦

Kadosh, kadosh, kadosh Adonai ts'va'ot, m'lo cho ha'arets k'vodo;

and

Baruch k'vod Adonai mimkomo.

We read in the Talmud that in order to recite aloud any passage that contains
the K'dushah we have to have at least ten people. A minyan was necessary,
and here we have the origins of the kahal.

I now turn to the subject of music. The Talmud affirms the fact that the re-
quirement for music during prayer was an ancient one, as old as the Bible.
Rabbi Judah said in the name of Samuel: How do we know that the principle
of shirah (song) during prayer is from the Torah? TheTorahcommandsus:"and
he shall serve b'sheim Adonai ("in the name of God"); this means song." Rabbi
Me'ir said that the song is so important that if there is no music, the korban
(sacrificial offering) is cancelled.

The music served various purposes. Let me read from what a chasid
wrote.

The importance of the song during t'fillah did not diminish even after the
Temple's destruction. Although the avodah (priestly sacrificial rite) was elimi-
nated, the practice of worship through song was not. With the spread of the
mikdash m'at ("sanctuary in miniature") which the Talmud tells us were the
synagogues and houses of study where the t'fillot became popular, so too, did
the singing. With the t'fillot, the melodies were retained as well. Prayers were
always recited with a melody that was pleasant. The sages taught: T'fillah is only
heard in the bet hak'nesset, as it is written, lishmo'ah el harinah v'el hat'fillah
("[May God] hear the song and the prayer"). The Midrash comments: what is
the place of rinahl Beit hak'nesset, for that is where the congregation offers
songs and praises in a pleasant voice. The [prayer through] song is led by an
appropriate and knowledgeable sha"tz. And the Gemara [discussion on this
Mishnah] adds: they only delegate a trustworthy individual to pray before the
Ark, one who is musical and has a sweet voice. Rashi comments: "a voice that
appeals to the heart."

There is one more item that contributed to the popularity of the music in
later times and was also a requirement of the Mishnah: al ta'as t'fillatcha keva
("don't make your prayer routine"). How does one avoid monotony? I want
to read to you again from Tractate B'rachot.

Rabbi Eliezer says, the one who makes his prayer fixed (keva), that person's
prayer is not accepted. Keva, continues the Gemara, defines anyone who can-
not add some chidush, something new into the service. Rabbi Zira said, this is
very interesting. I could add some new ideas that I have, and yet, I'm afraid I'll

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get confused [Rashi explains, I'm afraid I'll make a mistake], and won't be able

to get back to where I started.
In other words, he was ready to improvise but was afraid he wouldn't be able
to find his way back, musically.

To avoid this monotony the author of Halachot V'Halichut BaChasidut
writes that the t'fillah itself became davar shel keva—a fixed thing— because
people praying could no longer add anything new. But when the early Cha-
sidim introduced the nigun into t'fillah, ample opportunity opened up for
self-renewal, on a daily basis. Every prayer suddenly became different from
its neighbor, by means of the nigun to which it was sung.

In addition to increasing in number, however, melodies also had to have
some beauty. To document this I would like to turn to the Midrash Shir
Hashirim.

The next to last verse in Shir Hashirim— Hayoshevet baganim chaveirim
makshivim I'koleich hashmi'ini — translates as, "Thou who dwellest in the
gardens, the companions hearken to thy voice; cause me to hear it." The Mi-
drash says: when Jews enter the synagogue and recite the Sh'ma in concerted
union — with one voice, with one tune — the Holy One Blessed Be he answers
them with this verse, "Hayoshevet baganim... I and My angels (companions)
hearken to your voice." But when Israel recites the Sh'ma heterophonical-
ly — with some individuals surging ahead and some lagging behind without
kavvanah (intense devotion)— then the Holy Spirit screams at them and says,
B'rach Dodi ("get lost, my friend") ud'meh I'cha litsvi ("and liken yourself to
the tsava shel ma'alah, the heavenly choir, who give honor to Me in one voice,
with one sweet sound").

The diverse forms of responsive congregational singing are:

1) Textual and melodic repetition— by the congregation— of the cantor's words
and the cantor's tune— ashamnu (ashamnu), chatati (chatati).

2) Melody repeats — text changes in succeeding verses — ashrei yoshvei veitecha. . .
(ashrei ha'am shekacha lo...).

3) Refrain recurs after every verse— Hodu I'Adonei Ha'Adonim {Ki L'Olam
Chasdo)...Hodu I'Eilohei HaShamayim {Ki L'Olam Chasdo).

4) Cantor's "question"... congregation's "answer". .in every changing verse— Yig-
dal Elohim chai v'yishtabach, nimtsa vein eit el m'tsi'uto; (echad vein tachid
k'yichdo, ne'elam v'gam ein sofl'achduto).

The Sephardim are much more ambitious than we are in congregational
singing. They use this interplay between hazzan and kahal much more than

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we do. I think we should get accustomed to hearing it and perhaps we can

adopt some of this method.

In many of the old siddurim there is Perek Ha'shirah, a section devoted to

song, whose origin we do not know. It concludes with two little verses:
RabiEliezer omer, kol ha'oseik b'perek shirah ba'olam hazeh zocheh I'omro ba'olam
habah. Amar Rabi, ha'oseik b'perek shirah b'cholyom mei'id ani alav shehu ben
olam habah.

Rabbi Eliezer says: one who occupies himself with creating song in this world
earns the right to sing it in the next. Rabi replied: one who occupies himself with
song every day attests to the fact that he is worthy of the World to Come.

Let me say that for this purpose olam habah is our future. Whether in this
world or the next world, I believe that congregational song is a subject that
merits our attention. And I believe the future of congregations and of Juda-
ism in this country will be molded and influenced in great measure by what
we do with this subject. I know many hazzanim feel that it diminishes their
role as a hazzan. Let me assure you that it does not. There is room enough
for you to be the sh'li'ach tsibbur and at the same time for the congregation
to participate as much as possible and as beautifully as possible.

I know that many of us who were accustomed to singing long recitatives-
one for Shaharit, one for Musaf, etc.— have cut down. I never minded singing
less, as long as my paycheck was the same. So you sing less. The hazzan who
is loved and is successful is not necessarily the one who has a high C. I have
no high C and no A and no B. I know I wouldn't sing an A unless I get a salary
increase. One good G is enough. And even that's not what makes a hazzan
needed and loved in the modern congregation.

You can sing Shochein ad marom v'kadosh sh'mo— with the kahal— and still
make it beautiful. You can daven the simplest Kaddish Shaleim parlando-style,
but with sensitivity. You don't need a tremendous sound. If God blessed you
with it, fine. But every little paragraph ending that you sing, sing it beauti-
fully and esthetically and you'll see how effective it can be. Much more ef-
fective than shouting gevalt, you don't need it. Chalilah v'chas that hazzanut
should come to the point where the long recitative is altogether eliminated.
But even then, I'd still have to support my family, and I love hazzanut. Those
who do not love it are not in the profession. We didn't enter it to become
millionaires. So, if worse came to worst, we would continue — despite the
changed circumstances — in this Conservative movement which we joined
because we didn't feel at home in Orthodoxy and we didn't feel at home in
the Reform movement.

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Here is where we felt at home.

A native of Homonna, Hungary, Max Wohlberg emigrated to New York City in
1923. There he knew all the great cantors ofhazzanut's Golden Age personally, and
served as Yiddish recording secretary of the Chazzonim Farband (Jewish Ministers
Cantors Association). He became a self-taught authority on the nusach hat'fillah
of every region in Europe, and in 1947 co-founded the Cantors Assembly, which
he later served as president. In 1952 he co-founded the Cantors Institute and Col-
lege of Jewish Music at the Jewish Theological Seminary, heading its Department
of Nusach from 1950 until his retirement in 1988. He was a prolific composer of
recitatives and congregational melodies, and author of a regular column— "Pirkei
Hazzanut"—for The Cantor's Voice newsletter from 1951 to 1963. This article is
excerpted and edited from a talk he gave at the 33 rd Annual Cantors Assembly
Convention (CA Proceedings, 1980), pages 148-157.

+

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An Overview of Congregational Song in
the German Synagogue up until the Shoah

by Geoffrey Goldberg

Introduction

Writing as a musicologist and as a hazzan who migrated from his native East-
ern Europe to Germany, Abraham Z. Idelsohn pointed out in his Hebraisch-
orientalischer Melodienschatz significant differences between the synagogue
song of Eastern Europe and that of Germany. The controversial nature of the
following first sentence notwithstanding, Idelsohn wrote,

In Eastern Europe the Ashkenazic song received back its oriental elements after
they had been almost expunged from it in Germany. On the other hand, the
congregational singing in unison and the responsive form greatly deteriorated
(Idelsohn 1932:vi).

From this statement, Idelsohn clearly implied that congregational song,
in particular responsorial chanting, was a significant feature of the German
synagogue. Idelsohn's statement was all-encompassing, making no distinction
between the two liturgical and musical rites, Minhag Ashkenaz and Minhag
Polin, into which German Jews were divided. Some years earlier, a similar
observation had been made by the Polish cantor, Abraham Baer Birnbaum,
who regretted the deterioration of congregational song in the Eastern Euro-
pean synagogue:

In the Middle Ages the liturgical poets competed for the composition of texts
for metrical responsorial chanting... The lack of responsive singing, of the ac-
tive participation of the people during services, causes them to consider the
hazzan as a concert performer... A reform of synagogue music is absolutely
necessary (Birnbaum 1908, Introduction).

The responsorial form was ideally suited for congregational musical partici-
pation, however freely we define the term "musical." It had been an integral
part of the German synagogue from at least the fifteenth century, if not earlier,
as documented in literary sources (Goldberg 1990:204-205). Clearly defined
sections of the liturgy were performed in this manner. Among them were:
the pesuke de-zimrah, especially during the summer months, the chanting
of Tehillim (Book of Psalms) prior to the start of the shaharit service, Ha-Kol
Yodukah on Sabbaths during the summer, the Kedushah De-Sidra of U-Va
Le-Tziyyon, the selihot prayers, some of the Psalms of Hallel and, with the
introduction of KabbalatShabbat in the sixteenth century, the Psalms of this
liturgy as well (ibid. 208-216). Bravura hazzanim like Aaron Beer of Berlin
(1738-1821) might have tried to prevent the congregation from joining in

13

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with their melodies and recitatives (Idelsohn 1929/1992:218), but despite
such tensions, responsorial chanting between hazzan and kahal remained a
constant element of the German synagogue.

Ashkenazi Musical Rendition of Piyyutim

The piyyutim were a significant repository of many synagogue melodies. The
early piyyutim were based upon the natural rhythms and syllabic meters of
the Hebrew language; the later piyyutim were based upon Arabic and other
metrical poetic meters. The free rhythms of the former were ideal for singing in
simple chant patterns or psalmody; the regular stresses of the later for singing
metrical melodies. But what actually developed was highly complex. In his
general survey of Hebrew hymn tunes, Avenary stated, "The tunes very often
reflect the tastes of a certain period and environment. They are simple and
clear-cut when intended for congregational singing, or elaborate and brilliant
when executed by the skilled precentor (hazzan)" (Avenary 1971:5).

In reality, Avenary 's last sentence is only partially true with respect to
the Ashkenazi synagogue in general. The congregation might have joined
the hazzan in singing various simple piyyut melodies, but this is often
merely conjecture, and there is little confirmation for this from the various
nineteenth-century cantorial compendia. There was no dearth of melodies,
especially in Germany, as confirmed by the many tunes notated in Idelsohn's
Thesaurus (Idelsohn 1933, nos. 290-360), but for the most part we have no
strong evidence that these were sung by the congregation. Some congrega-
tional tunes for popular medieval favorites like Eli Tziyyon and An'im Zemirot
proliferated, but surprisingly few melodies for AdonOlam— the twelfth-cen-
tury laudation that now concludes every worship service — appear in Eastern
European collections.

Piyyutim commonly sung as plain psalmody or to metrical melodies in
Western Europe were often sung in Eastern Europe as an improvisatory can-
torial recitative. A good example is Az Bikshov Anav, a piyyut relating to the
death of Moses, recited on Simhat Torah. The author, Moses b. Samuel (12 th
century), eschewed fixed poetic meter as the basis of the poem's structure,
relying solely on the free rhythm of the Hebrew combined with an alphabetic
acrostic and strophic rhyme. In Western Europe the text was rendered in
psalmody, a musical genre ideally suited to the varying lengths of the lines,
since extra syllables in either the antecedent or consequent half of a verse
could be rapidly enunciated on reciting tones to achieve a balanced parallel-
ism. With an ambitus of only an octave the congregation could easily have

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joined in the chant, with its varying reciting tones and cadential motives.
Transcriptions of this melody seem, however, to signify that it was chanted
by the hazzan alone (Sulzer 1865, OPC Vol. 6, no. 265; Example l). 1

Example 1. Suk

ofAz Bikshov Anav.

In Frankfurt the piyyut was read by the congregation, but it is unclear if this
was done in an undertone or chanted out loud (Geiger 1862:359). In more
easterly territories, the simple rendition Az Bikshov Anav as psalmody was
unknown. The recitative provided by the Lithuanian-born but Berlin-trained
hazzan, Aron Friedmann, for example, is apiece of typical Eastern-European
hazzanut in Ahavah Rabbah mode. By its very character it ruled out any
congregational participation (Friedmann 1901, no. 298).

An indication of the contrast between the West European preference
for the metrical and basically strophic rendition of piyyutim and the East
European preference for a though-composed or improvisatory rendition in
free or "flowing rhythm" can be seen by comparing the melodies of Ya'aleh,
Omnam Ken, Hinneh Ka-Homer from Yom Kippur Eve. 2 The melodies found
in Abraham Baer's Ba'al Tefillah (representing largely Western Germany and
the north-eastern German provinces) and those transcribed in Yehoshua
Ne'eman's Nosah Lahazan (representing the Lithuanian musical tradition)
demonstrate this difference. 3 The strophic character of the former invite

1 Other cantorial compendia also signify solo performance. See Baer 1883, no.
917.

2 While the text of Omnam Ken was only known in Minhag Polin, the traditional
melody given in Baer and other Western and Central European sources was not known
in Lithuania.

3 Baer 1883, nos. 1306, 1319 (1 Weise.), 1321 (1-3 Weise.); Ne'eman 1972, nos. 254,
257, 192.

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(metered) congregational participation while the improvisatory, free form
of the latter invite, at most, individualistic imitations or approximations of
the various motivic patterns sung by the cantor.

Some "simple and clear-cut" metricalpiyyut melodies were only sung by the
hazzan. It is as though the texts were exceptionally revered and considered
too sacred to be recited by the congregation. Among such piyyutim were
A'apid Nezer Ayom, attributed to R. Eleazar ha-Kallir and recited on Rosh
Hashanah, and Ha-Adderet Ve-Ha-Emunah, recited on Yom Kippur. Salo-
mon Geiger, in his work on Frankfurt liturgical-musical practices, referred
to A'apid Nezer Ayom as "the great piyyut" and specifically mentioned that
it was arranged for recitation by the hazzan alone (Geiger 1862:160). 4 The
second piyyut, Ha-Adderet Ve-Ha-Emunah, was highly mystical in content
and its text goes back (with some variations) to Hekhalot Rabbati, a mystical
work of the sixth century (Baer 1883, no. 1404; Ogutsch 1930, no. 262). Rabbi
Jacob Moellin of Mainz (ca. 1365-1427), known as the Maharil, stressed that
"the hazzan recites Ha-Adderet Ve-Ha-Emunah with sweetness, 5 with awe
and great kavvanah and with a lowered head, since many names [of God] and
secrets are included in it" (Spitzer 1989:438). 6 Geiger described the melody
as unique, which the hazzan sang with Jul ur'adah ("trembling and shaking")
(Geiger 1862:249).

A number of piyyutim have a refrain or pizmon. In some cases the open-
ing stanza served as the refrain and in others a line repeated at the end of
each stanza served as the refrain (Elbogen 1993:182). Known collectively as
pizmonim, these poems were ideal for congregational musical participation.
Among the Sephardim and edotha-mizrah, such indeed was the case, but in
the Ashkenazi rite this did not fully develop, and if it ever did, there occurred
a degeneration of the pizmon musical refrain.

The most remarkable example of congregational singing is that mentioned
by the fifteenth-century German rabbi, R. Moses Mintz, who served in Mainz
and Bamberg. In one of his teshuvot (halakhic responsa) he refers to the custom
of extending the singing of the first blessing after the Barekhu at the Sabbath

4 Similarly, Fabian Ogutsch wrote, "Vorbeter ganz solo" (Ogutsch 1930, no. 178).
For transcriptions of the melodies (which share elements in common), see Ogutsch,
ibid.; Baer, 1883, no. 1099, 1 W. (Central European melody?) and 2 W. (West European
melody).

5 Or, "with melody"

6 Similarly, the Worms description of Jeptha Juspa Shammash (Hamburger 1988,
Vol. 1:181).

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Morning Service during the summer months. Much of this liturgical text,
known as the Yotzer, is comprised of early piyyut additions to the statutory
liturgy— the matbe'a— which, strictly speaking, are not obligatory parts of the
liturgy (Elbogen, ibid.:96-97). 7 While in many locales it was customary to
chant Ha -Kol Yodukha and El Adon (on the Sabbath) responsively, according
to Mintz, the congregation alone sang these piyyutim. While the congregation
was singing the Yotzer piyyutim the hazzan would review the Torah portion of
the week, rejoining the congregation at the conclusion of the blessing (Mintz
1991, Vol. 2, section 91, p. 394). 8 It should be noted that Mintz specifically
used the term niggen, which in this context, would appear to refer to more
than chanting. We have no knowledge of how long this custom prevailed or
the nature of the melody sung by the congregation.

A Melodic Prototype: Otekhah Edrosh

One of the few Ashkenazi piyyutim for whose musical performance we have
thorough historical documentation is Otekha Edrosh, a piyyut written by R.
Shimon bar Yitzhak of Mayence (b. ca. 950) and recited (inMinhagAshkenaz)
in the selihpt section of the Yom Kippur Eve liturgy. Its poetic structure is
built upon double stanzas, each stanza (bayit) having four lines (turim), with
four words to each line: 9

trav xh n"7D ,ims mun

vim nwiTm rrnrra *?Tn / sninx f^xi wittx imx
snx '38 wd 'D / snm "nmpn nnx p

•unit x 1 ? T^m panm / urnx &nm Vnx snx
10 ™ion "anon wip ni^n ^ I wm q^dd i ,l 7N p

7 Elbogen discerned three main poetic additions in the Yotzer. According to Ham-
mer there are six poetic sections (Hammer 2003:xxiii).

8 For extending the melody of Ha-Kol Yodukha during the summer see Spitzer 1989,
par 10, p. 53; Breuer 1972:21.

9 The last word of line four is always the same as first word of line five. Line three
always starts with Hen, line 4 always starts with Ki. Line 4 is always a biblical quotation.
Each stanza has a different rhyme scheme.

10 The form analysis and the text are taken from Goldschmidt 1970, Vol. 2:38.

«

♦

R. Jacob Moellin described how the recitation of Otekha Edrosh was di-
vided between the hazzan and the congregation: "The sheliah tzibbur (cantor)
recites Hatanu Tzurenu in a loud voice, which the congregation repeats. The
congregation recites the first two "verses" (haruzot) of Otekha Edrosh [i.e., the
first stanza] and the cantor repeats the line beginning, Hen attah. The cantor
repeats [that line following] every two verses [i.e., every stanza] recited by the
congregation" (Spitzer 1989:329-330). The relevant point in this description
is that the body of the piyyut was recited by the congregation. 11 A somewhat
later description, but not substantially different, is that given in the prayer
book commentary (published 1560) of R. Naftali Herz Treves of Frankfurt.
According to Treves, the cantor repeated the entire double stanzas after
the congregation had recited them, and then he continued with the Hatanu
refrain (Spitzer, ibid.:330).

The descriptions of Moellin and Treves raise several issues of interpreta-
tion. First, since both use the word "omer" ("recites") with respect to both
the hazzan and the congregation it is difficult to know conclusively whether
the congregation actually "sang" the melody. This problem is endemic to all
the literary descriptions of synagogue praxis. Second, there is the possibility
that the two descriptions reflect two distinct regional differences of musical
performance. In Mainz the congregation either davened or sang each stanza,
while in Frankfurt the hazzan unquestionably sang two consecutive stanzas
after they had been davened or sung by the congregation. Third, there is
every possibility that Treves' description reflects the gradual process of the
congregation ceding the singing of the piyyut to the cantor.

Later Frankfurt sources appear to corroborate the third interpretation.
The eighteenth-century collection of Frankfurt minhagim of R. Juspa Kos-
man described the hazzan singing be-niggun the body of the piyyut, while
the congregation merely recited the Hen refrain passages, and only in every
second stanza (Kosman 1719/1969:281, par. 5). Salomon Geiger, in hisDivrey
Kehillot, a detailed compilation of Frankfurt liturgical-musical customs in the
early nineteenth-century, not only corroborated the description of Kosman,
but pointed out that when the hazzan repeated the second Hen, he did so
loudly and with an extended melody (Geiger 1862:243). Geiger was referring

11 At various places the congregation interrupted the piyyut to recite the liturgical
unit opening with ElMelekh Yoshev, which the sheliah tzibbur completed, and then the
chanting of Otekha Edrosh continued. This interruption to allow for the inclusion of the
ElMelekh Yoshev passages was still customary in many communities in the nineteenth
century as shown in annotations in the Heidenheim editions of the mahzor.

*

♦

here to the melismatic performance of this word, a notable characteristic of
all musical notations of Otehkah Edrosh.

When we compare these literary descriptions of Otehkah Edrosh with the
nineteenth-century transcriptions of its oral musical transmission it becomes
clear that the latter reveal a musical performance practice the opposite of
that described by Moellin. According to these notations the hazzan sang the
body of the piyyut, whereas the congregation only recited the second Hen
refrain verse which was also repeated by the hazzan (David 1895, no. 183;
Example 2). 12

Ki ve - sheim kod-she'- cha va - tah -

Example 2. David's Otekha Edrosh for cantor with congregational refrain.

These transcriptions lend support to our argument for the transference of
the melody from the congregation to the hazzan. This transference probably
did not affect the melody's basic musical structure. It merely resulted in a
somewhat more elaborate setting of the melody, such as melismatic elements

12 Other musical transcriptions include Baer 1883, no. 1327; Sulzer 1865/1954 (OPC
7, no. 411); Ogutsch, no. 245. Idelsohn 1933, Pt. 2, no. 188 (partial); Naumbourg 1852,
no. 264; Heller 1914, no. 602. A reissue of Leon Algazi's pre-World War II recording
of David's setting is now available on CD (Algazi, n. d.).

*

♦

and octave leaps. Some transcriptions, in fact, do not have the octave leap
on the first Hen, and so they possibly reflect the earlier congregational sing-
ing of the melody 13 The strongly modal nature of the melody (especially the
predominance of the subtonium), the borrowing or echoing of trop figura-
tions, the mixture of flowing rhythm and short metrical passages, especially
in the refrain, and the mostly syllabic setting of the text, all contribute to its
archaic character. 14

Support for the contention that the melody which Moellin described
was the prototype of the melody notated in the nineteenth century comes
from Moellin's statement that this melody was also used for the singing of
Adabberah Tahanunim, apiyyut recited in Minhag Ashkenaz as part of the
selihot of shaharit on Yom Kippur (Spitzer 1989:330). 15 Bothpiyyutim have
the same poetic structure and rhyming scheme, and are introduced by the
short Hatanu Tzurenu verse which also serves as a refrain. Hence these and
similar piyyutim were known as Hatanu piyyutim. 16 More than three centu-
ries after the time of the Moellin, Baer wrote in his Ba'al T'fillah, "according
to this melody [of Otekha Edrosh] are sung all Hatanu Tzurenu [piyyutim]"
(Baer 1883, no. 1327). This statement thus provides strong evidence of the
contrafactum usage of the Otekha Edrosh as the melody for the text of Adab-
berah Tahanunim. All the literary and musical evidence provides convincing
evidence of the strong roots of the Otekha Edrosh melody in Minhag Ashkenaz
and its musical continuity of over several centuries, but also of its later decline
as a congregational melody.

13 In the settings of Sulzer and Heller there is no octave leap at the first hen. In nei-
ther of these settings is there any reflection of congregational participation. In Sulzer's
setting the Hatanu Tzurenu was sung by the choir.

14 Idelsohn pointed out the incorporation of trop and psalmody motives, where
the version of Ogutsch has the motives of revia of the Prophets, zakefkaton of the
Pentateuch for the High Holy Days and motives of the Psalm mode. See Idelsohn 1933:
xxxvii; no. 215. The final line recalls sofperek of ekhah trop.

-^ In most of Minhag Ashkenaz, Adabberah Tahanunim was sung at the Morning
Service of Yom Kippur, but in Worms this piyyut was recited on Yom Kippur Eve and
Otekha Edrosh was recited in the morning. See Hamburger 1988, Vol. 1:178, section
154; Nulman 1996:4.

16 Maharil wrote, "there are places that recite Hatanu Adabberah Tahanunim
according to the order that I have explained [for Otekha Edrosh}" (Spitzer 1989:330,
par. 10).

20

*

♦

A Second Melodic Prototype: ShofetKol ha-Aretz

The musical performance oi Shofet Kol Ha-Aretz, a piyyut recited inMinhag
Ashkenaz at the conclusion of the selihot prayers in shaharit on Yom Kippur
is also documented in several historical sources. 17 Scholars are divided in
the identification of the author, whose name Tift^U? is spelt out in the acrostic
of the opening letter of each of the four stanzas. 18 This concluding piyyut is
also referred to as the pizmon since, according to Goldschmidt, the opening
stanza originally served as the refrain, but according to popular usage, the
fourth line of the first stanza was also adopted as a recurring refrain. 19 The
structure of the pizmon form, at least on a theoretical level, would appear
ideally suited for musical interaction between hazzan and congregation.

Tbw usweq nnxi / pxn ^ ubup

raxn ^y ny ^y / 70m □"n nj

twt\ n"?iy mp&a / intz/n n^sn n*a

7">»rin Thwh -iu;n ipan rtw

The performance of this piyyut was described in detail by Jeptha Juspa
Shammash (1603-1673) in his collection of Worms liturgical customs (com-
pleted in 1648):

The hazzan recites aloud the stanza (haruzah) ShofetKol Ha-Aretz up to le'olat
ha-tamid. Similarly, the congregation repeats it aloud... .and this is the practice
(minhag) for all the pizmonim (but the ark is only opened for Shofet). The haz-
zan and the congregation recite Lovesh Tzedakot [the second stanza] together
up to [the refrain] le'olat ha-tamid. The congregation repeats aloud the first
stanza, Shofet Kol Ha-Aretz. Following this the congregation and the hazzan
recite together [the next stanza] Mateh Kelapei Hesed, to its conclusion, after
which the congregation and the hazzan recite the first stanza, Shofet, etc., to
its conclusion (Hamburger 1988, 1:140). 20

17 This piyyut is also recited on the selihot on the eve of Rosh Hashanah. Moellin
described the order of the selihot as three selihot, followed by the pizmon and Hatanu
(Spitzer 1989:261).

18 Elbogen (1993:179) attributes the author to Solomon ibn Gabirol, but according
to Scheindlin the author is unidentifiable; Goldschmidt (1970:272) attributes the piyyut
to Solomon b. Abun the Younger.

19 The pizmon refrain of the fourth line appears to have been most thoroughly
adopted in the Sephardic and oriental rites; in Minhag Polin the refrain line does not
occur in the second and third stanzas.

20 Strangely, the last stanza appears to have been omitted in the loud recitation.

*

♦

According to this account, the congregation participated in the singing
of the entire p iyyut. Note that Shamash made the point of emphasizing that
the hazzan and the congregation recited the piyyut together (be-yahad)
(ibid.). 21 Shamash's account merely confirmed in more detail the slightly
earlier description (written between 1625 and 1632) of his close contempo-
rary, Judah Low Kirchheim (d. 1632) of Worms (Peles 1987:94). Kirchheim
made the telling point that the congregation repeated Shofet Kol Ha-Aretz
aloud like the hazzan, implying that they repeated the strophe in the same
melody. Additional confirmation was provided by Yair Hayyim Bacharach
(1638-1702) in his annotations to the manuscript of Shammash (Hamburger
1998, Vol. 1:137). From these accounts we see that (1) the congregation sang
the piyyut, at the very least when there was joint recitation with the hazzan,
but in all probability during every stanza which they recited aloud; (2) the
final- line pizmon refrain was ignored, since the congregation sang the stanzas
in their entirety.

Later historical sources attest to either a different performance practice in
other localities, or more likely, a substantive change in musical performance.
This change is first indicated in the Minhagbuch of eighteenth-century Fiirth
(Gumpil 1767:6b), and is corroborated by Geiger's description of the practice
in Frankfurt (Geiger 1862:271). According to these sources, the hazzan sang
the entire piyyut, except that the congregation repeated the first stanza as a
refrain after each stanza. These later descriptions would actually appear to
reflect a performance practice in accordance with the (original?) literary form
oi the piyyut whereby the pizmon form was characterized by the repetition
of the first stanza as a refrain. They also mirror the liturgical annotations
provided in printed mahzorim.

Musical transcriptions of Shofet Kol Ha-Aretz located in cantorial compen-
dia show little uniformity of practice concerning congregational participation
(Avenary 1987). 22 None, however, reflect the very full "melodic" participation
of the congregation as attested in the seventeenth-century sources. Where
there is evidence of melodic congregational participation, there is always a
good possibility that this was an attempt by "reformers" of the synagogue
service to reconstruct an idealized past performance practice, especially when
they provided rubrics for the choir to lead in sections recited by the congre-

21 Annotation in MS Worms.

22 Avenary 's article provides a thorough analysis of the musical development of
Shofet Kol Ha-Aretz, its geographical variants, and a full citation of the musical tran-
scriptions.

*

♦

gation. At the same time there is little uniformity of practice as to whether
the entire first stanza served as the pizmon refrain or simply the fourth line
of the first stanza (TQrin rfrlS/ 1 ? "IttfN "I pan rfrlS?). The more melismatic the
musical notation, especially with respect to the single refrain line, the more
unlikely was the congregation's melodic involvement (Sulzer 1865, OPC Vol.
7, no. 441; Example 3). 23

Example 3. Sulzer's Shofet Kol Ha-Aretzfor cantor with congregational refrain.

■" In Sulzer's simple transcription of the Central European variant the refrain line is
indicated "Chor." Other examples include (1) Friedmann 1902, no. 352 (Central Euro-
pean melody). Every stanza is indicated as "Recit.," with cantorial improvisations and
extended ambitus in the second and third stanzas. Despite the same cadential pattern
in the concluding lines there is no clear indication of congregational participation; (2)
Ogutsch 1930, no. 268 (Western-European/Italian melody). Despite the uniform refrain
pattern, the melismatic passages, runs, and the wide ambitus make congregational
melodic participation doubtful. Ogutsch indicates that the congregation repeats Shofet,
etc., after the first, second and fourth stanzas, but not after the third stanza since it
concludes with al mitzho tamid; (3) Naumbourg 1852), no. 277 (Western-European
melody). This is simple notation of only the first stanza, with indication "Recit." for the
cantor. Two sound recordings of Shofet Kol Ha-Aretz are highly melsimatic throughout:
(1) The Tedescan (German) version, ed. Seroussi 2001, (2) and the Frankfurt-New York
version of Benno Weis who was born in Frankfurt and a lay cantor of Congregation
K'hal Adath Jeshurun, New York City (n.d.).

*

♦

Sephardic Melodies: Impact of the Hamburg Temple on Ashkenazi Syna-
gogue Music at the Dawn of Modernity

Only in the modern period, and with it, increasing use of notated musical
scores, do we have reliable evidence concerning congregational song in the
German synagogue. Coordinated congregational singing rather than the hith-
erto spontaneous, individualistic and heterophonous acclamations, became a
vital component of programs for reforming and westernizing the synagogue
service. A model for this ideal was found to be near at hand namely, the music
of the Hamburg Sephardim.

The Hamburg Reform Temple (founded in 1818), which had adopted many
Sephardic elements, not only the Sephardic pronunciation of Hebrew, Sep-
hardic prayer texts and piyyutim, but also traditional Sephardic chants and
metrical melodies, continued to exert its influence on German Ashkenazic
synagogues well into the 1840s (Seroussi 1996). For example, an article on the
subject of improving synagogue music published in 1849 in the Allgemeine
Zeitung des Judenthums [AJZ] praised the simple congregational melodies
of the Hamburg Temple service (AJZ 13/25 [1849:339]).

Some of the Hamburg Sephardic melodies, via the Hamburg Temple, were
adopted by Ashkenazi synagogues. The main conduit for the diffusion of these
melodies in the German Ashkenazi synagogue was the Gesdngefur Synagogen,
the songster of the Braunschweig cantor, Hirsch Goldberg (Goldberg 1843
and 1845). This songster appeared in several additions and the simplicity of
its arrangements probably accounts for its widespread popularity. Goldberg
fitted a number of the Hamburg melodies to Ashkenazi texts and piyyutim.
For he adapted the Adonay Melekh refrain of the Sephardic piyyut Adonay
Be-Kol Shofar to the Ashkenazi Addirey Ayummah, a piyyut with the same
textual refrain (Seroussi 1996:78-83).

The Hamburg-derived melody for Hallelu/ El Adon/ Adon Olam was
utilized by Louis Lewandowski for Lekhu Nerannenah and Hallel (ibid.; 48,
1 13-1 14). 24 It was also used for Lekhu Nerannenah by Baer where he described
it as Nfeue] Wfweise] (BT, no. 320), but when used for Hallel he described
as Dfeutsche Wfeise]. The latter ascription suggests that by Baer's time its
Sephardic origin had been entirely forgotten. So popular was this melody,
at least in Berlin, that it was also set to Ashrey for Sabbath afternoon youth
services (Vorstand der jiidischen Gemeinde zu Berlin, 1912:32).

4 Lewandowski, KR, nos. 4 and 78; TW, n

*

♦

The first part of the melody especially popular in the Unites States for con-
gregational singing of Etz Hayyim Hi had its origin in one of the Hamburg
melodies (Goldberg 1843:26-27; Example 4).

fl ^ Congregation

Eitz ha -

yi»_ „:

?

- „,-!,,-.

n - kim bah

,,„„,

■-■

-to"'- m'u -

£.

D'ni

» *■ -

d»L_

„„ -

Example 4. Hu . im Hi — a 19th-century

precursor of current practice.

Idelsohn had first intimated the possible Sephardic provenance of this
melody (Idelsohn 1929/1992:239, 241), and now Edwin Seroussi has fully
documented its Sephardic origin (Seroussi 1996:109-111). 25 Whether,
however, the entire melody actually fully coalesced in Germany is unclear.
The diffusion of this melody is indicative, not merely of the influence of the
Hamburg Temple, but of European Sephardic music in general, on Western
Ashkenazi synagogues in the nineteenth century (Goldberg 1998:224).

25 The conclusion of the Etz Hayyim Hi melody appears to be rooted in the Sephardic
tune for be-Motza'ey Yom Menuhah, a piyyut sung at the Close of the Sabbath, and
included in Baer's Baal T'fillah, no. 425. Baer transcribed the melody from Emanuel
Aguilar and David Aaron De Sola (Aguilar 1857: no. 23). The influence of Sephardic
melodies of the Hamburg Temple reemerged in the late 1890s. Moritz Henle (1850-
1925), the first Ashkenazic cantor of the Hamburg Temple, included an arrangement
of Ha-Yom Harat Olam, the short liturgical text sung after the blowing of the shofar
on Rosh Hashanah, in his Liturgische Synagogen-Gesange (Henle 189?. no. 13). The
simple haunting melody, with an ambitus of only a minor sixth, was sung in unison
by the choir and congregation, except that the choir repeated the last line, providing a
western harmonic conclusion to an otherwise modal congregational tune. For a record-
ing of this piece see Henle 1998. A somewhat simpler transcription was published in
1849 by Gerson Rosenstein in his songbook for the Reform-oriented Jewish school in
Seesen, Westphalia (Seroussi 1996:47).

*

♦

German Hymnals and Hebrew Songsters

The impression has been given of the widespread adoption, in the nineteenth
century, of German hymns. For example, Abraham Z. Idelsohn argued that,
"The Progressive congregations adopted from Hamburg the singing of Ger-
man chorales in Protestant style" (Idelsohn 1929: 243). Similarly, Eric Werner
claimed, "The German songs of the Reform synagogues followed the style of
the Lutheran chorale quite discriminately" (Werner 1976: 198). The reality is
that the German hymn tunes were not too widely adopted and when intro-
duced they sometimes met with fierce opposition, especially in traditional
communities (Goldberg 2000: 81-83). 26 In addition, Idelsohn's portrayal of
the use of German hymns as being indicative of a "radical reform" (as opposed
to "moderate reform") that wished to eradicate traditional hazzanut is also
misleading. In most cases, the German hymn was a supplement to, and not
a replacement of, the traditional hazzanut.

In synagogues where a German song was introduced, it was limited to
little more than a hymn before and after the sermon. This modest degree of
congregational hymn singing (led, in many cases by the choir) did not neces-
sarily signify any "radical reform." Even the community Orthodox synagogue
in Berlin, as part of the program of aesthetic improvements introduced by
Rabbi Michael Sachs in 1845, countenanced the singing of German songs at
the conclusion of the Torah service and the sermon (AZJ 9/42 1 845:635). 27
To what extent this innovation was actually implemented is not clear. In Vi-
enna, in the Seitenstettengasse Synagogue where Salomon Sulzer officiated,
a religioses Lied was introduced in 1870 (SZ OPC 8, Anhang I, no. 25). 28

An important source that underlies the modest role of the German hymn
in German liberal synagogues is a small work entitled Gemeindelieder fur
die neue Synagoge in Berlin underlies its limited use in the synagogue service
( Vorstand. . . 1868). This booklet was published under the auspices of the Board
of the New Synagogue. It contains the German texts and the melody line of
eleven hymns. 29 Although the name of the musical editor of the booklet is

26 The reference here relates to the introduction of — and opposition to — the singing
of German hymns in the State of Wiirttemberg.

27 AZJ 9/42 1845: 635.

2 ° An annotation provides the instruction, "die erste Strophe vor, die Zweite nacht
der Predigt."

29 The author of the texts has been identified as Aron Horowitz (1812-1881),
director since 1859 of the Berlin Teachers' Seminary. See Judisches Lexikon, Vol. 2
1928, col. 1673.

*

♦

not given, it undoubtedly was Louis Lewandowski (1823-1894), especially
since two of the melodies utilized themes of two new liturgical compositions
that were later published in his Todah W'simrah. 30

The distinguishing feature of this small work is that almost all its melo-
dies are based on recognizable traditional synagogue melodies or freshly
composed melodies that were part of the corpus of the choral pieces of the
New Synagogue. From this perspective, almost all the pieces can, in a sense,
be considered "traditional" Jewish melodies. The songs were arranged ac-
cording to the cycle of the Jewish year. 31 The worshippers probably did not
actually use the Gemeindelieder during synagogue services since the song
texts were included in Seder Tefillot Kol Ha-Shanah, the prayer book of the
New Synagogue (and other Berlin Liberal Synagogues). 32 The continuing
popularity of these songs is proven by the inclusion of nine of them in the
Liturgisches Liederbuch, a songster published in 1912 for use in Orthodox
and Liberal synagogue religious schools and youth services (Vorstand... zu
Berlin 1912). 33

The Gemeindelieder 's significance becomes clearer when we compare it
with a work published in the State ofWiirttembergafewyears earlier. In 1861

30 Uvenukho Yomar and Vayehi Binso'a

31 Identification of the themes and motifs: (1) the opening theme reoccurs at the
words Ki Lekah Tov in Uvenukho Yomar (TW 1, no. 178) and appears to have been
influenced by a chorus from Mendelssohn's Lobegesang (Sabbath); (2) original compo-
sition? (Sabbath); (3) a borrowing from Mendelssohn's Elijah (Sabbath); (4) based on
the traditional Passover Al Ha-Rishonim cantorial recitative melody (c.f., TW 2, no.
18 and the Addir Hu melody (Passover); (5) based on the Akdamut melody (Shavuot);
(6) the theme occurs in Vayehi Binso'a in TW 1, no. 57 (Sukkot); (7) the pitches of the
three descending notes in mm. 2 and 3 recall the 5-3-1 pitches of the High Holy Day
Alenu Leshabbeah (Rosh Hashanah); (8) subtle use of Kol Nidre motives (Yom Kippur);
(9) Mabz Tzur melody (Hanukkah); (10) original melody? (Purim); (11) Eli Tziyyon
melody (Tisha B'Av).

32 For example, Seder Tefillot Kol Ha-Shanah: Gebetbuchfur die neue Synagoge in
Berlin, Theill: Wochentage, Sabbathe, undFestage, nebstzweiAnhangen (Berlin 1889).
This volume contains nos. 1-6 and 9-11 of the Gemeindelieder songs. In most cases
half the stanzas of the song were sung before the sermon and the remainder after it.
The Seder Tefillot was also used in other Berlin liberal synagogues.

33 The content of the Liturgisches Liederbuch also reflected musical usage in the
Berlin community synagogues. Differences in musical usage between "Orgel Synagogen"
and "Orgelfreien Synagogen" were few.

*

♦

Rabbi Joseph Maier introduced his Seder Tefillah, a moderate Reform liturgy,
which was adopted in other states. To replace the failed and often extremely
unpopular Gesangbuch, 34 he included in the center of this otherwise moder-
ately traditional prayer book both the texts and the melody line of forty two
hymns for singing before and after the sermon (Maier 1861:218-245).

Most of the so-called hymnals were in fact songsters. This distinction has
been insufficiently understood. 35 The texts were overwhelmingly those of the
statutory services. The melodies were simple pieces for the statutory services,
especially the responses, and sung in Hebrew. Many of the melodies were
based upon pre-existing traditional Jewish melodies or modes, with the ad-
dition of new melodies as well.

Hirsch Goldberg's Gesangefur Synagogen should, therefore be considered as
belonging to this genre of publication. Goldberg explained that his motivation
in preparing this work was primarily to provide simplified rearrangements
of Sulzer's four-part melodies, especially for small communities with limited
musical resources (Goldberg 1845, vii). Although a casual glance might lead
one to conclude that many of the arrangements were for singing by unison or
two-part choir, the author explained that long term goal was that the "choir"
would ultimately embrace the entire congregation (Goldberg, ibid.).

The Gesangefur Synagogen is best remembered for its inclusion of Julius
Freudenthal's setting of En Kelohenu, which he composed in 1841 (Goldberg
1843:vii; Idelsohn 1929/1992: 238-239). A decisive factor in the dissemination
of this tune (and doubtless others as well) was the Braunschweig Rabbinic
Conference held between June 12 and 19, 1844 (Meyer 1988:134). On the
Sabbath during the conference delegates attended the Braunschweig syna-
gogue where the melodies were received with great approval, including, in
all probability, Freudenthal's En Kelohenu (Goldberg 1853: viii-ix).

By 1880 the Gesangefur Synagogen had been superceded by Schire beth
Ja'acob, the songster of the Leipzig cantors, Louis Liebling and Bernhard
Jacobsohn. 36 Jacobsohn (1846-?) had been a pupil of Louis Lewandowski at
the Berlin Teachers' Seminary (1862-1867) and had been appointed hazzan

34 Sefer Zemirot Yisra'el (Stuttgart 1836). It contained 361 German hymns with
four-part musical arrangements. The radical character of this work has recently been
analyzed by Daschler-Seiler 1997. The source of a large number of the texts was the
evangelical Wurttemburgische Gesangbuch published in 1829.

35 For example, Werner, A Voice Still Heard, p. 235.

36 Louis Libeling and Bernhard Jacobsohn, Schire beth Ja'acob: Israelitisches Schul-

*

♦

in Lepizigin 1874. 37 He worked tirelessly for the cultivation of congregational
song, both in theory and practice. He cultivated group singing in the religious
school as a means of furthering congregational singing in the synagogue
(Liebling 1880:vi). While the congregational melodies for the Sabbath were
divided almost equally between "old melodies" and "more recent melodies,"
almost all those for the Three Festivals and the High Holy Days carried the
ascription alte Weise.^ 8 Among the latter we might mention the restoration
of the congregational singing of the refrain line, Ke-'olat ha-boker of Shofet
Kol Ha-Aretz (SBJ, no. 205).

The most radical feature of the Leibling and Jacobsohn songster was the
encroachment of the congregation in the singing of several texts that had
formerly been the sole preserve of the hazzan. These were now set for re-
sponsive singing between hazzan and congregation. Examples include: (1)
the reworking of Al Ha-Rishonim, a cantorial recitative sung on Passover
which, in former times, had often been performed as a "Cantorial Fantasia"
(Avenary 1968:69). Here, more elaborate cantorial sections contrasted with
simpler sections incorporating the Passover Addir Hu melody sung by the
congregation (SBJ, no. 103); (2) the adaptation oiHeyeh Im Pifiyyot, a High
Holy Day reshut, using a widely-known South-German melody for Avinu
Malkenu to replace the solo recitative (SBJ, no. 176); (3) the setting of Ana
Tavo, in which the text was divided up into short musical phrases sung between
hazzan and the congregation and which introduced motives that reoccurred
in the ensuing Ashamnu confessional (SBJ, no. 198; Example 5); 39

(4) the provision of greater congregational participation in Ya'aleh, the
openingpiyyut for Kol Nidre Eve, by assigning to the congregation the sing-
ing of the entire third line of each stanza rather than just the closing short
refrain, ad arev (SBJ, no. 187); (5) the unique arrangement of Kol Sitrey
[Ra'ayanot], a Hebrew substitute for the Aramaic Kol Nidre, based on the

und Gemeinde-Gesangbuch (Altona, 1880). A fourth edition of Gesdnge fur Synagogen
was published in 1888.

37 Jacobsohn was a significant figure in German-Jewish communal affairs. He was
a president of the Deutsch-Israelitische Gemeindebund. He was author of an autobi-
ography, Funfig Jahre: Erinnerungen ausAmt undLeben (Berlin, 1912).

3 ° Schire beth Ja'acob also included an appendix of twenty- eight German hymns,
but many of these were also based on traditional synagogue themes.

39 In the nineteenth century the text of Ana Tavo became a favorite for choral set-

*

♦

she - ein a nah - nu a - zei fa - nim u-ke-shei o - ref.

Example 5. Bernhard Jacobsohn's Ana Tavo - a responsive introdution to Ashamnu.

traditional melody). 40 The congregation repeated each word or phase of
the text after the hazzan, except that where the hazzan extended a word
melismatically, the congregation sang it more simply and syllabically (SBJ,
no. 184; Example 6).

Example 6. KolSitrey -Bernhard Jacobsohn's responsive substitute for Kol Nidre.

The Contribution of Louis Lewandowski

The enrichment of Ashkenazi synagogue services by choral and congrega-
tional melodies, especially in the Torah service, was a comparatively recent
phenomenon. Prior to the innovations of Salomon Sulzer (1804-1890) and
his contemporaries, the elaborate ritual for the removal and return of the
Torah scrolls on the Sabbath and Festivals was merely chanted in nusah.
This is confirmed by the settings of these texts in compendia of traditional
hazzanut, such as those of Abraham Baer and Moritz Deutsch. 41 The new

40 This text was included in Vol. 2 of the Leipzig prayer book edited by A. M. Gold-
schmidt. See Petuchowski 1968:343.

41 Baer's notations of Ein Kamokha and Av Ha-Rahamim for the Sabbath merely

30

*

♦

compositions introduced in the 1830s and later to beautify the Torah service

were essentially choral, and not congregational. 42

In the introduction to hisKolRinnah u'T'fillah (1871) Louis Lewandowski

reflected upon the consequences of the new choral melodies composed by

Sulzer and others:

With the introduction of choral music, congregations were prevented a priori
from direct participation in services, because of the artistic nature of the choral
singing. Congregations were now condemned to silence, whereas they had
previously been accustomed to shouting (Goldberg 1989-1990:41).

The contrapuntal character of some of the pieces in Sulzer 's SchirZion (Part 1,
1840) and the problems of range and tessitura prevented easy congregational
participation. Indeed, the whole idea of congregational participation had not
really been taken into consideration by Sulzer. Even so, congregants began to
sing and to corrupt the new melodies, and a number of them became "con-
gregational" even if this had not been the composer's original intent (ibid.).
Lewandowski seems to have been one of the first who attempted to pro-
vide for the equal participation of all three elements: cantor, congregation
and choir (ibid.). Consequently, to satisfy the needs of the congregation,
Lewandowski composed and arranged a number of unison melodies, while
many of the simple two-part pieces could easily be sung by the congregation
as well. Strongly deploring the introduction into the synagogue of "trivial
melodies" lacking musical worth, Lewandowski did not take on this task
lightly. Since unison pieces lacked the elements of harmony and modulation,
creating pieces of effective and lasting value was no easy assignment. For the
unison congregational melodies and response he sought "flowing melodies,"
and a "very limited range," and for the simple two-part pieces, "simple voice
leading" (ibid.:42). A modest number of pieces in Kol Rinnah u'T'fillah were
consequently designated Gemeinde (congregation) or Chor und Gemeinde

continue in the nusah of the Ahavah Rabbah mode of the shaharit 'amidah and the
Kaddish Shalem (Baer 1883: nos. 578 and 579). At Vayehi Binso'a Ha-Aron onwards
the nusah is the same as that for Weekdays, based upon High Holy Day cantillation
(ibid., nos. 101-102; 581-588). For confirmation of this cantorial practice see Deutsch
1871, nos. 97-103. On the other hand, all the alternative melodies that Baer added
underneath the traditional nusah, Baer marked N[eue] Wfeise]. On the Three Festivals
the cantorial melody for Vayehi Binso'a Ha-Aron was derived from the melody for
Ha-El Be-Ta'atzumot.

42 It is important to bear in mind that the publication oiSchir Zion (Sulzer 1840)
was preceded by the Munich collection of Maier Kohn (Kohn 1839).

*

♦

(choir and congregation) . Some of these were entirely new compositions that
soon became beloved congregational pieces. 43

A particularly noteworthy aspect of Lewandowski's endeavor was his metri-
cal arrangement for congregational singing of passages formerly chanted to
nusahby the hazzan. Most of the texts selected for such musical settings were
those passages that traditionally were recited by the congregation before, after,
or with the hazzan. In addition Lewandowski arranged for the congregational
singing of the obligatory congregational responses. With respect to the first
body of texts, Lewandowski strove to overcome the fundamental dichotomy
between the qualified melodic improvisation and free or "flowing rhythm"
nusah chanted by the hazzan, and regulated and metrically-based musical
participation by the congregation. He achieved this by (a) providing a more
metrical quality to the nusahj and (b) simplifying the motivic structure of
the nusah and reducing or eliminating modulations, or (c) creating newly
composed metrical melodies based upon the nusah.

Lewandowski's setting of Vaykhullu incorporates (a) and (b) above. Ac-
cording to Seligman Baer, the normative practice was for the hazzan to recite
vaykhullu aloud together with the congregation (Baer 1868/1937:190). 44
Comparison between Sulzer's setting Vaykhullu and Lewandowski's is striking.
Sulzer's setting for hazzan alone, the congregation possibly reciting it along
with him in an undertone. It is rhythmically completely free (no bar lines),
has passages of melisma, and melodic leaps. Lewandowski's setting, on the
other hand, is for unison congregational chanting. It has a fixed meter (at least
theoretically), a comfortable range and tessitura, no ornamentation and has
a syllabic setting of the text. So popular was Lewandowski's Vaykhullu that
many have regarded it as the actual nusah, but it is more plausible to regard
it as a reworking of the nusah for congregational singing (Sulzer 1865, OPC
Vol. 6, no. 43, Lewandowski KR, no. 26; Example 7). 45

43 Among these were Mah Tovu (KR, no. 1 and TW, Pt. 1, no. 1); Lekha Dodi (KR,
no. 7), Tzadik Ka-Tamar (Ps. 92) (KR, no. 13), Lekha Adonay (KR, no. 43), Hashivenu
(no. 51), Adon Olam (KR, no. 78) and Untanneh Tokef '(KR, no. 180). Equally popular
were the metrical settings of the obligatory congregational responses, such as those
of theBarekhu (KR, no. 16) and theKedushah (KR, nos. 36 and 54).

44 On the other hand, Magen Avot was recited by the congregation alone.

45 Baer's setting of Vaykhullu appears to be situated between the improvisational
setting of Sulzer and the restrained and simple setting of Lewandowski. The first system
of Baer's setting is close to the elaborate style of Sulzer. On the other hand, the close
melodic similarity between systems 2-4 of Baer and systems 2-4 of Lewandowski can

*

♦

■»■

-i-,„ „,.™-

vim

«..:.,

retz v' khol

tz'va-a^ vay>-

khal E-:

o-him ba-yom hash-vi - i

mUakh to

-stb, va- ylsh -

J * J J \ J

^ * z' ^

bot ba-yom hash-v

Example 7. — Sulzer's and Lewandowsky's reworkings of the Vaykhnllu n
solo; and for congegational singing.

;ahfor: cantor

Another example of Lewandowski's metrical arrangement of nusah for
congregational singing was his setting oiDarkekha ElohenuA 6 Traditionally
it was chanted by the hazzan according to a somewhat fluid melody pattern

be explained either by the fact that they both represent the same geographical area
(Posen) or by Baer's borrowing from Lewandowski. See BT, no. 407. In a similar style
to Lewandowski's Vaykhullu was Baer's congregational setting of Magen Avot char-
acterized by a simple syllabic setting of the text and artful use of descending melodic
sequences.

46 The text oiDarkekha Eloheinu was only recited in Minhag Polin.

*

♦

and then repeated by the congregation. 47 The manner of the repetition de-
pended on the musical skills of the individual worshipper. Baer provided two
nusah settings for Darkekha Elohenu although, in fact, both shared melodic
elements in common. 48 In Eastern Europe Darkekha Elohenu was sometimes
transformed into relatively elaborate hazzanut (Neswizshki 1903:117-118;
Katchko 1952:119). 49 But even the more restrained setting of Baer (possibly
reflecting the north-western Polish tradition) was strictly for solo cantorial
performance.

When Lewandowski arranged his metrical setting of Darkekha Elohenu he
pared down the melody to its absolute basics, with a strict meter and a largely
syllabic setting of the text, except in the final cadence. 50 He also avoided the
chromatic alterations characteristic of Baer's setting. Furthermore, he only
included three musical phrases (unlike that of Baer) for the four phrases of
the text, so that the third textual phrase repeated the first musical phrase.
Sung first by the hazzan, this simplified melody was repeated note for note
by the choir and the congregation (KR, no. 123; TW, Pt. 2, no. 97; Baer 1883,
no. 1311; Examples 8 and 9).

Example 8. Baer's two versions of Darkekha Eloheinu — elaborate hazzanul for
worshippers to repeat as best they can.

47 Similarly the related verses, Le-Maankha Elohenu, Ta'aleh Arukha and Tashlikh
Hata'enu.

48 Baer 1883, no. 1311, 1 W[eise] and 2 Wfeise].

49 Deutsch utilized both of the melodies that were later notated also by Baer. See
Deutsch 1871, nos. 385-387.

50 Lewandowski's arrangement paralleled Baer's second version.

34

*

♦

Example 9. Lewandowsky's Darkekha Eloheinu — dignified simplification of nusah for
unison singing.

Such reworking of the nusah, dictated in part by the needs of the congrega-
tion, led to a loss of its richness, inventiveness and improvisatory character.
On the other hand, this was partially compensated for by the dignified and
melodious unison singing of the congregation.

When we turn to Lewandowski's composition of metrical melodies based
upon or incorporating elements of nusah, an excellent example is his setting
of Shema Yisra'el for the Sabbath Ma'ariv service. Whereas Sulzer had the
choir lead the congregation in a newly-composed melody in major (SZ 1,
OPC, Vol. 6, no. 28), 51 Lewandowski created a congregational melody that
was fully integrated into the nusah of the Adonay Malakh mode in which
Shema and its blessings were chanted. 52 The structural tones of the first part
of Shema Yisra'el paralleled those of U-Ma'avir yom u-mevi laylah, while the
structural tones of the second part of Shema Yisra'el paralleled those of ha-
ma'ariv aravim (KR, no. 18 and 16; Example 10).

Yis-ra - el, A-do-nay E-lo-hei-nu, A-do-nay e- had._

Example 10. Lewandowsky's Sh'mafior Friday Evening — a metrical melody
based on nusah.

51 The melody in use in the United States today and attributed to Sulzer does not
appear in Schir Zion.

52 This nusah pattern was used in Western and Central Europe, and large portions
of more westerly regions of Eastern Europe.

*

♦

Lewandowski's third setting of Veshameru for Sabbath Eve is another
congregational melody that incorporated elements of nusah. This metrical
piece was rooted in the Adonay Malakh mode, with its characteristic lowered
seventh degree. Although Lewandowski, in both the Kol Rinnah and the
Todah W'simrah, divided up the melody into sections sung respectively by
the congregation and the choir, it would appear that it was later often sung
exclusively by the congregation (KR, no. 24; Example ll). 53

Example 11. Lewandowksy's congregational V'shameru
— rooted in Adonay Malakh mode.

Kol Rinnah and Todah W'simrah present many further examples of
Lewandowski's sensitivity towards the nusah and his ability to arrange it for
congregational use. 54

Aron Friedmann and Emanuel Kirschner

Provision for a modest degree of congregational singing is noticeable in the
works of Aron Friedmann (1855-1936) and Emanuel Kirschner (1857-1938).
Both had been cantorial students of Lewandowski at Berlin's Jewish Teach-
ers' Seminary (Goldberg 2002:317), and served for varying lengths of time at
Berlin's Liberal Oranienburgerstrasse [the "New"] Synagogue where Lewan-

53 See, for example Liturgisches Liederbuch (Berlin, 1912), no. 11.

54 Examples are Ve-Nislah (KR, no. 108); Adonay Adonay (KR, nos. 83 and 127);
ShemaKolenu (KR, no. 134); Ve-AlHata'im (KR, no. I4?l); AshreiHaAm Yod'ey Teru'ah
(KR, no. 171); Yah Shimkha response (TW, Pt. 2), no. 229); Neilah responses (TW, Pt.
2), nos. 237-239, 244-247.

*

♦

dowski served as music director. From him they gained practical experience
in the integration of the three elements of cantor, choir and congregation.

Friedmann first began officiating at the New Synagogue in 1882 while still
completing his studies at the Lehrer-Bildungsanstalt (Friedmann 1929:10).
He also officiated for many years at other Berlin synagogues in a system of
rotation of cantors, 55 but from around 1906 he served exclusively in the
Orthodox Heidereutergasse [the "Old"] Synagogue (Friedmann 1929:14, 28).
His major publication, Schir Lisch'laumau (1901), was devoted exclusively
to hazzanut, of a predominantly Eastern European character, for the entire
liturgical year. 56

In contrast to the beautiful and fully-developed lyrical melodies that
Lewandowski provided for the congregation, Friedmann concentrated on
providing short and simple responses in the appropriate nusah. Worthy of
mention are the chants for Mi Khamokha and theBarukhHu U-Varukh Shemo
responses according to the cycle of the liturgical year. In the latter responses
the congregation repeated the melody pattern of the opening of the hatimah
chanted by the hazzan (SL, no. 240; Example 12).

Example 12. u responses in

appropriate nusah.

Friedmann exploited the simple repetition of melodic phrases, especially
in the chants for the High Holy Days. In Melekh Elyon, for example, the
congregation repeated the same refrain throughout (SL, no. 361). Byway of
contrast, in the two settings oiAttah Hu Elohenu, the congregation repeated
each varying metrical phrase sung by the hazzan with the words of the fol-
lowing phrase of the piyyut (SL, no. 344; Example 13).

55 This rotation system was most certainly under the supervision of Lewandowski
who functioned as the Berlin community's chief music director.

5 " The portions to be sung in unison, according to Schir Lisch'laumau, often assume
the support of a choir, typical of Berlin synagogues at the time, including Orthodox

*

♦

Example 13. Friedmann's congregational responses repeat cantor's melodic phrase, but
with words of next phrase inpiyyut.

+

In Ve-Khol Ma'aminim, whereas the hazzan sang each half verse in a se-
ries of unending variations, a musical skill in which Friedmann excelled, the
congregation sang each Ve-Khol Ma'aminim refrain in groups of four vary-
ing melodic patterns (SL, no. 369). In the Adonay Melekh refrain to Addirey
Ayyumah the congregation sang a simplified setting of the refrain first sung
by the hazzan, omitting melismatic elements and narrowing the ambitus,
but it concluded each phrase with the same structural tones of the Mi-Sinay
melody (SL, no. 323; Example 14).

me-lpkh A-dn-

ma-lakh, A-do-nay yim

Congregation

loch l'-o- lar

A -do- nay_

me-lekh, A -do-

Example 14. Friedmann's simpli melody as a congregational "repetition" of

cantors statement.

*

♦

When he introduced new congregational melodies Friedmann strove to
attain a degree of thematic continuity within sections of the liturgy. Examples
include Barukh She-Natan Torah and Ve-Zot Ha-Torah in the Sabbath To-
rah service (SL, nos. 186 and 193) and the Mi Khamokhah and Va-Yeddaber
Moshe in the Evening Service for the Three Festivals (SL, nos. 241 [a] and
242; Example 15).

Vay' da - ber Mo-she et mo - a-dei A-do-nay el b'-nei

Example 15. Friedman's thematic continuity in congregational refrains
for Festival Maariv.

Throughout Schir Lisch'laumau subtle influences of Lewandowski can be
detected. Thus, following Lewandowski, Friedmann composed two congre-
gational settings of the opening of Un'tanneh Tokef(SL, no. 363; Example
16).

kon b' he - sed kis - e - cha, v'-tei-shev a - lav be -

Example 16. Friedman's Lewandowsky-style congregational openingfor Un'tanneh Tokef.

*

♦

He arranged a fully-metrical setting oiDarkekha Elohenu, sung first by the
hazzan and then by the congregation (SL, no. 407; Example 17);

a Cantc

■r. the

hi . i

lgregation

Dar

:£

■s

E- lo - hei - nu

l':i " ^SLl

- pe ■

■ kha, la-ra-

I v y -•-' \J

Example 1 7. Friedman's fully metrical Darkekha Elohenu — for cantor
followed by congregation.

he also arranged a congregational setting of the Shelosh Esreh Middot (SL,
no. 408).

Emanuel Kirschner had functioned briefly as Second Cantor in Berlin's
New Synagogue from 1879-1881. In 1881 he was appointed Chief Cantor
in Munich where he officiated in the Great Synagogue (Liberal) until his re-
tirement (Friedmann 1918:226-227). His four-volume Tehilloth Le-El Elyon:
Synagogen Gesange (1897-1926) is important not only for its utilization of
South-German nusah but also for its implementation of Lewandowski's ideal:
integration of cantor, choir and congregation in the musical performance
of the synagogue service. It was not always an easy endeavor, and the level
of congregational singing did not always meet with the success Kirschner
hoped for (Kirschner 1937: 65-68). Volume I of Tehilloth Le-El Elyon (1896)
only provided for a very small role for the congregation, but the subsequent
volumes rectified this omission. In the Preface to Volume 2 (1898) Kirschner
wrote the following:

I have attempted to meet the justifiable demand of giving to the congregants the
opportunity, even in synagogues with a reformed liturgy, an active participa-
tion in the service, so that I have assigned to unison congregational singing a
broader part in my work. In this connection I have nevertheless striven, with
respect to the largest part of the pieces for congregational singing, to provide
melodies which are formed in the spirit and character of the traditional old or
newer synagogue modes [Synagogenweisen] (Kirschner 1898: Vorwort). 57

^ It would be interesting to know what Kirschner meant with respect to this dis-
tinction between the "old" and "newer" synagogue modes. Among the latter, did he
have the Ahavah Rabbah mode in mind?

*

♦

Worthy of mention in Volume 2 is: (1) the responsive singing between
hazzan and congregation of Ha-Kol Yodukha, whose historical precedent
we documented earlier (TE2:8-9); 58 (2) the unified group of metrical con-
gregational responses for the Kedushah De-Yotzer section (Et Shem Ha-El,
Kadosh, Barukh Kevod) based upon a melody pattern in major but with a final
cadence in minor, according to South-German usage (pp. 9-10); 59 (3) the
fully responsive psalmodic rendition of Ps. 113, the opening psalm oiHallel
(TE2:14-15); 60 (4) the setting for the congregation of Ve-Zot Ha-Torah based
upon South-German Torah cantillation (TE2:24; Example 18);

Example 18. Kirschner's congregational Ve-Zot Ha-Torah based on South-German
Torah cantillation.

(5) The newly-composed melody oiHodo Al Eretz, a melody which later be-
came popular in some American synagogues (TE2:31; Nathanson 1960:98);

58 Similar to Idelsohn 1933, no. 48a (Fabian Ogutsch) and 48b (Maier Kohn).

59 For parallels see Scheuermann 1912, Pt. 1/B, p. 12, no. 7; Naumbourg 1847, p.
57, no. 44.

60 For a similar melody pattern see Lachmann 1900, p. 90, no. 154 (Ps. 1). This
chant for Hallel would appear to be a basic pattern for chanting all the psalms since
Lachmann provides an annotation: Auf diese Weise alle Kapitel und so abswechelnd
alle Psalmen.

*

♦

(6) the rather remarkable setting of Le-David Barukh (Ps. 144) for the Close
of the Sabbath (TE2:41-49), most of which is sung responsively, but also
incorporating sections for choir as well. 61

The portions for congregational singing in Volume 3(1911), written mainly
for the Three Festivals, were largely limited to the obligatory responses (based
upon the appropriate nusah), seasonal melodies in the Hallel and the Priestly
Blessing, and some rather effective responses for theKedushah oiMusaf(TE3,
no. 51). Of the two settings of Veshameru involving the congregation, the
first — designed for Sabbath Evening — is most noteworthy. It was constructed
out of the nusah in Adonay Malakh mode for the Shema U-Virkhoteha as
sung in Western and Central Europe. 62 Except for a short, central passage
for the hazzan (extending above the octave), the entire piece was sung by
the congregation. The second congregational section drew upon the internal
"modulatory" phrase common to the nusah of both Eastern and Western
Europe. In this manner the melody was fully integrated into the chant pattern
of the preceding prayer texts (TE3, no. 18); Example 19).

The most interesting section of Volume 3 is the supplement, entitled Ju-
gendgottesdienst. Many German communities arranged a special service for
the youth at minhah on Shabbat to accommodate the considerable number of
schoolchildren who attended school on Shabbat (the observant would refrain
from writing) (Breuer 1992:120). Sometimes the entire weekly Torah portion
was read at this service (Sinasohn, 1966:123). In addition to the simple Sab-
bath Afternoon nusah chanted by the hazzan, Kirschner provided a number
of simple, yet effective unison melodies, with organ accompaniment. Among
those constructed from the nusah are the opening of U-Va Le-Tziyyon and
its conclusion at Adonay Hafetz (TE3, no. 61; Example 20); 63 the response
in the Hatzi Kaddish with its poignant Phrygian cadence (TE3, no. 62; Ex-
ample 21); Va'ani Tefillati (TE3, no. 63); 64 Barukh She-Natan Torah in the

61 This piece starts as a simple responsive folk-like melody. The customary South-
German melody is later momentarily introduced, but is broken off by a new choral
section; only towards the end does the well-known melody finally gain a foothold,
chanted between hazzan and the congregation (pp. 41-49). Among the many nota-
tions of the traditional South-German melody for le-David Barukh are Idelsohn 1933,
no. 299a and b; Scheuermann 1912, Pt. II/D, p. 17, no. 1.

62 This mode was also sung in more westerly regions of Eastern Europe.

63 For parallels to U-Va Le-Tziyyon see Scheuermann 1912, Part 1/C no. 1 and
Idelsohn 1933, no. 76.

64 The opening phrase of Kirschner 's setting, with its descent to the subtonium,

42

*

♦

Congr

gation

. V-

sha - m' ru v' -

neiYis-ra-el et ha-

s^r^'

bat __,__

mf ~

■< y -

rr f if
4 j j_ j.

i jj^j

r l 3 ^ =^

Ki

shei - shet ya -

mim_ a -

sah A- do -

nay ^ et

ha-sha-

na -

vim —

™/

^n

l»R

"°" "

1 — 3 — '

rr

i" !l

Example 19. Congregational sections in Kirschner's Veshameru constructed out of
Western European nusach for Maariv Le-Shabbat.

Example 20. Congregational conclusion ofAshrei and opening ofU-va LeTziyyon i
Kirschner's Youth Service for Alii that 'i Le-Shabbat.

*

♦

Example 21. Phrygian cadence in s Hatzi Kaddish response,

mode of the Weekday Torah service (TE3, no. 64); 65 the Kedushah responses
in the pentatonic scale (TE3, no. 71). In addition, Kirschner provided several
new melodies, such as for Vayehi Binso'a and Lekha Adonay, which appear
to be simplifications of choral settings of the Torah service from the body

m fw _

zot ha

- to - rah a - sher

sam Mo

- sheh lif -

n^l b<

nei Yis - ra -

r

*r

r , h

Example 22. Kirschner's congregational Ve-Zot Ha-Torah based upon
High Holy Day Ic'amiin.

differs somewhat from Scheuermann 1912, no. 3 and Idelsohn 1933, no. 78a (Kohn),
but is close to Idelsohn 1933, no. 78b (Ogutsch). All these sources agree on the place-
ment of the finalis.

65 See Baer 1883, no. 695.

«

♦

of this volume. This Minhah service, with its large degree of congregational
singing (and deceptively "simple" nusah) must have been quite a novelty at
the time.

Volume 4 of Tehilloth Le-El Elyon (1926), comprising music for the High
Holy Days, provided fewer opportunities for unison congregational singing.
Yet the following are worthy of mention: (1) the congregational setting of
Ve-Zot Ha-Torah, based on the te'amim of the High Holy Day (TE4, no. 9;
Example 22);

(2) the setting for congregational singing of the Shelosh Esreh Midot in
the selihot of the High Holy Days and the larger liturgical unit of which it is
part (El Melech). Here, Kirschner effectively exploited the pentatonic core
of the simple South-German nusah for this section of the selihot (TE4, no.
38); Example 23) ; 66

(3) of the five settings of Ki Anu Amekha, two were arranged as responsive
singing, the congregation repeating each melodic phrase sung by the hazzan

Example 23. Kirschner's respor,

accompanied South German nusah.

66 See Idelsohn 1933, no. 240 and Baer 1883, no. 1302. Kirschner's three settings of
the Shelosh Esreh Midot in the Torah service were entirely for hazzan or choir (TE4,
nos. 3-5).

*

♦

with the text of the following verse of the piyyut (TE4, nos. 50 and 52); 67 (4)
the two settings oiAvinu Malkenu, in which the congregation repeats each
line sung by the hazzan (TE4, nos. 58 and 59). The second of these is an ar-
rangement of a well-known South-German melody for this text. 68

The cantor-composer Hermann Zivi (1867-1942), a rising figure in the
German cantorate in the early years of the twentieth century, should also
be included among those concerned with promoting congregational song
(Fruhauf 2003-2004). A graduate of the Teachers' Seminary in Karlsruhe,
Baden, Zivi served as hazzan in Dusseldorf (1893) and Elberfeld (1898). The
role of the congregation in synagogue services was a constant element in his
musical thought and his synagogue compositions (ibid.:96). Unfortunately
Zivi was less gifted in composing effective congregational melodies. They
tend to suffer from an excessive range and an overabundance of awkward
skips and leaps. Furthermore, Zivi did not exploit the possibilities for creat-
ing melodies out of the nusah, relying too heavily on the major scale. For
example, unlike Kirschner, he did not utilize the Sabbath Afternoon nusah
in his Gebete und Gesangefur Jugend-Gottesdienst (Zivi 1895), and the con-
gregational Veshameru in his Freitag-Abend Gottesdienst (Zivi 1906:31) was
set purely in major.

Forging a New Sense of Community: the Role of Congregational Song

Notwithstanding the contribution of the aforesaid cantors and composers
in furthering congregational musical participation, in the post- World War
I years of the Weimar period, there was a growing dissatisfaction with the
type of services held in the big synagogues of the big urban centers. As one
layperson in Berlin put it, "As magnificent as our large community synagogues
are in many respects, and although much that is beautiful is offered in the
services, they fail to produce any real living effect. ..One arrives, one listens
to the service more or less passively, one departs" (Meyer 1998: 20). The
problem was seen as a symptom of a wider malaise, in which the Gemeinde
(the Jewish "congregation") had ceased to be a community in any meaningful
sense. It was merely a Gesellschaft, an association of tax-paying individuals.
Increasingly there were voices speaking of the need for true Gemeinschaft
(community) rather than mere Gesellschaft.

"7 TE4, no. 50, has a particularly lyrical, yet simple, melody line.
68 Idelsohn 1933, Pt. 2, no. 194; Sulzer 1840/1954 (OPC, Vol. 7) no. 462a (set for
hazzan and choir, but only for the first three verses).

*

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Voices were raised to make the synagogue once more a center of social
interaction rather than solely a sacred place for divine worship, on the Chris-
tian model. Gemeinschaft was sought through more community-centered
forms of synagogue architecture, such as the seating in the round of the
Prinzregentstrasse Synagogue in Berlin, dedicated in 1930 (ibid.:23). Inevi-
tably, Gemeinschaft was also sought through liturgy and music. When, for
example, the new Hamburg Temple was built in 1931, its chief cantor, Leon
Kornitzer, expressed that the time had come to introduce more community
singing based on traditional motifs, instead of relying so heavily on the music
of the choir (ibid.). One young Berlin rabbi called for a Gebetgemeinschaft,
a community of prayer where everyone was a full participant, not merely "a
pious listener" (ibid.:24). Beginning in 1923, a group of Berlin Liberal Jews
started to organize alternative services, and soon several such groups sprang
up in different parts of the city (ibid.:29-30). 69

Congregational song was a vital component of the new alternative ser-
vices. The participation of all was encouraged. Anything that smacked of a
performance was scrupulously avoided. Services were led by a hazzan (lay or
professional), but he was to see himself as sheliah tzibbur, and not a performer.
Even within the context of Liberal services, prayer was to be more like the
old simple davenen (ibid.:26). In 1927 a liturgy for the Friday Night Service,
entitled Das Freitagabend-Gebet, was published (ibid.:27). The prayers and
responses sung by the congregation were indicated "Gemeindegesang" and
notation of the melodies was provided in an appendix. 70

The congregational melodies of Das Freitagabend-Gebet were merely those
of Lewandowski, simplified where considered necessary. Increasingly, how-
ever, the nineteenth-century musical style of Lewandowski and like composers
was beginning to be considered passe. A new musical idiom was sought, one
considered more authentically Jewish, more modal and rhythmically free.

The ground-breaking work in this direction was Heinrich Schalit's Fine
Freitagabend-Liturgie, first performed in Berlin's Liitzowstrasse Synagogue
in September 1932 (Schalit 1933). Although set for cantor, choir and organ,
Schalit did not consider this service to be only art music. As he explained in
the Preface, the active participation of the congregation played an integral part
in the work's performance, since all the responses and unison sections of the

69 One of them later merged with the new Prinzregentstrasse Synagogue, which in
turn absorbed elements of the former group (ibid.).

70 The liturgy, entitled Das Freitagabend-Gebet, was printed as issue no. 10 of the
Die Gemeinschaft (December 18, 1927).

*

♦

choral pieces were intended to be sung by the congregation. That Schalit used
the term Gemeinschaftgesang (community song) rather than the customary
Gemeindegesang (congregational song), is no coincidence (ibid., Preface). The
Eine Freitagabend-Liturgie was greatly acclaimed, but the spiritual renewal of
German Liberal Judaism, to which Schlalit hoped this work would contribute,
was cut short by the cruel tide of history.

Conclusion

Some form of congregational musical participation always played a role in
the German synagogue, in which responsorial singing constituted its most
constant element, and the one most receptive to renewal in the modern pe-
riod. Melodies of a more metrical nature were also popular, but as we have
seen, while some of them invited congregational participation, this was not
necessarily always the case. In the modern period, new choral pieces soon
became congregational, and composers like Lewandowski consciously fur-
thered the advancement of congregational song, a trend also encouraged
by the publication of various songsters. A significant limitation, however,
always remained to the extension of congregational singing, for as far as can
be ascertained, German congregations never participated (except for the
Kedushah responses) in the repetition of the amidah by the hazzan. This
remained the preserve and responsibility of the cantor alone, unlike the trend
in contemporary America (Tarsi 2002:64-65).

Whether German congregational singing would have ever developed to the
extent that it did in the United States in the later twentieth century cannot,
of course, be answered. Connection between the growth of congregational
song in the German synagogue and that in the American synagogue, a topic
beyond the limits of the present study, remains an area that invites further
research.

Abbreviations Utilized in the Text
HOM = Hebraisch-orientalischerMelodienschatz
OPC = Out of Print Classics Series of Synagogue Music
KR = KolRinnah U'T'fillah
SBJ = Schire Beth Ja'acob
SL = Schir Lisch'laumau
TE = Tehillot Le-El Ely on
TW = Todah W'simrah
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Discography

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(Recording of "Otekhah Edrosh").
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(Recording of "Shofet Kol Ha-Aretz").

Geoffrey Goldberg has rabbinical ordination from Leo Baeck College, cantorial inves-
titure from JTS and a PhD in Musicology from the Hebrew University. He has been an
adjunct member of the Musicology Department at Tel Aviv University, the Academy
for Jewish Religion and HUC-JIR. His scholarly writings have appeared in the HUC
Annual, Studia Rosenthalianer, Yuval and Musica Judaica.

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Emissary in Prayer or Song Leader?
What the Rabbinic Responsa Have to Say

ByAkivaZim ( translated by Joseph Levine)

The term "congregational singing" does not occur in any halachic discussion
of synagogue prayer or practice. The Daily Sabbath, Festival and High Holy
Day services stand in place of sacrificial rites that were ministered by kohanim
(Priests) in the Second Temple and supported by the singing and playing of
leviyim (Levites). 1 Since the Temple's destruction,

we no longer have the kohen at his service,

nor the levi on his platform,

nor the Israelites at their station. 2
The leviyim, on their platform, accompanied the kohanim at their sacrificial
service. The hazzan (cantor) of today, the congregation's delegated em
sary in prayer (also known as sheli'ach tsibbur), stands in place of the Levi
Nowhere does rabbinic literature record that worshipers who entered the
courtyards of the Great and Holy House became "singers" who helped the
leviyim to fulfill their sacred task.

In describing the order of the Temple service during Festivals, the Tal-
mud does mention the people answering "Halleluyah" after every verse of
the Hallel Psalms that were sung over the Paschal offering. 3 During longer
prayers, congregational participation took the more limited form of respond-
ing "Amein" at a blessing's conclusion. The privilege of singing during public
worship wasn't-and still isn't-up for grabs, for the simple reason that not
every worshiper is meant to be a singer. So-called "congregational" singing
is the enemy of hazzanut (the cantor's art) and the antithesis of traditional
prayer. That is why prayerbooks have taken pains to designate what is to be
said by the kahal (congregation) and what is to be recited by the hazzan.

In the "Laws of Prayer" section of an old Festival prayerbook I once
found specific prohibition against the congregation's "helping" their sheli'ach
tsibbur.

It is necessary to warn worshipers who, thinking they are performing a mitzvah
in singing aloud passages that are the hazzan's obligation to recite, that they

1 Babylonian Talmud (henceforth: BT), B'rachot 26b (t'fillot k'neged t'midim tik-
nurri).

2 Daily Birkot HaShachar, ArtScroll Siddur, 1984: 42.

3 BT, Sukkah 36b.

54

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are unknowingly violating another commandment: the prohibition against
mentioning God's name in vain. Let them better keep silent, and listen to the
hazzan with intense devotion.

The great halachic authority Rabbi Ephrayim Zalman Margolies (1760-
1828) who lived in Brody, Galicia, compiled the book Mateh Efrayim as a
source for all the laws of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur to be observed by
Ashkenazic Jewry. In it he wrote, "The hazzan alone recites the prayer Ochilah
La'El ("I Beseech God"), for it is his obligation, and therefore the kahal should
not recite it with him." 4

Two other examples of prayers that are off limits to worshipers: MiSod Cha-
chamim ("...I Open My Mouth in Prayer"); and Yareti Biftsoti ("Frightened, I
Pray"), since these were assigned exclusively to the hazzan and are not to be
said communally. The Talmud elsewhere 5 relates the manner in which Shirat
HaYam (Song at the Sea) 6 was recited.

Moses said, 'I sing to Adonai,'

and the people said, 'I sing to Adonai;'

Moses said, 'For He has triumphed,'

and the people said, 'I sing to Adonai.'
Here we see one type of alternation between prayer leader and congregation: a
constantly varying call with a constantly repeating response; but that is as close
as hazzan and kahal ever come to singing the same text at the same time.

Much more worthy of our consideration is the intrusion of congregational
singing upon the hazzan's repetition of the Amidah. The halachah specifies
that the kahal must hear the hazzan's repetition and answer "Amen" at the
conclusion of every Amidah blessing. 7 The one thing it must not do is "assist"
the hazzan in any way. This principle remains intact even when time is a factor.
The ruling is that the hazzan recites aloud the opening three blessings of the
Amidah— including the Kedushah responsively with the kahal— after which
everyone continues in silence to the end of the Amidah. Among Ashkenazic
Jewry this solution for getting people to work — or home to supper — on time
became known as a hoicheh kedusheh ("audible Kedushah").

4 Mateh Efrayim, Section 592.

5 BT, Sotah 30b.
6 Exodusl5:l-21.

7 Rabbi Isaac Alfasi on BT, Rosh Hashanah 35a.

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Professor Ezra Fleisher's research into the history of prayer reveals that
the entire Kedushah originally lay within the hazzan's domain, and the bless-
ing ending Ha'El HaKadosh took the following form.

Atah kadosh v'shimcha kadosh uk'doshim b'chol yom y'hal'lucha sela, kakatuv,
"V'kara zeh el zeh v'amar: 'Kadosh, kadosh, kadosh Adonai ts'vaot m'lo chol
haarets k'vodo;'" v'ne'emar, "Baruch k'vod Adonai mimkomo'.' Baruch Atah,
Adonai, ha'El haKadosh.

All of the Amidah's third blessing— Birkat HaShem— was originally recited
by the hazzan alone. Only in later centuries was what came to be called the
Kedushah— or Sanctification— divided among hazzan and kahal.

In his book, The Emergence and Development of Yotsrot, Professor Fleisher
states,

In early times, piyyutim (non-statutory poetic portions of the liturgy)were
recited aloud only by the hazzan. He selected them according To the holy day
and chose the order in which he would recite them... Very early, the payy'tanim
(composers of piyyut) specified passages In their works for the kahal to recite
as well. This depended. ..on the genre of piyyut, on local custom and on the
intellectual level of the worshipers. 8
I believe the same standard should be applied to congregational singing which,
generally speaking, is introduced indiscriminately.

The late-thirteenth-century codifier of Ashkenazic law, Rabbi Asher ben
Yechiel (known as the Rosh), 9 is very emphatic on this point.

Anyone who sings along with the hazzan shows himself as irresponsible... It
is proper to reproach those who raise their voices and 'assist' the hazzan in
repeating the Shmoneh Esreh (Amidah of eighteen benedictions). ..it is the
worshipers' duty to concentrate in silence upon the hazzan's recitation of the
blessings and the Kaddish (Doxology), and to respond with 'amein' or 'y'hei
shmeh raba mevarach..'. ("May God's Great Name be Blessed...") afterwards.
So, too, in the Kedushah must they wait for the hazzan to recite 'Nakdishach
V'naaritsach'...{"'We Sanctify and Extol You...;" wording of the Sephardic rite)
until he reaches 've'amar ("and he said:"), whereupon they respond, Kadosh,
Kadosh, Kadosh.. .("Holy, Holy, Holy...").
According to the Rosh there exists a division of labor between hazzan and
kahal, and neither one should presume to perform the other's work. Rather

8 Ezra Fleisher. HaYotsrot B'Hit'havutam Uv'Hitpatchutam (Jerusalem: Hebrew
University, 1984), p. 21.

9 Responsa, 4:19.

*

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should each carry out their assigned task. The hazzan represents worshipers
in prayer; let them, therefore, rely upon his representation and not interfere
with it.

In his collection of responsa, Chavot Ya'ir, Rabbi Hayyim Ya'ir sets forth
the manner in which piyyutim are to be recited. He concludes, "The payy'tanim
composed their lyric works specifically for the hazzan to recite." In our own
day the chief rabbi of Tel Aviv, — Hayyim David HaLevi 10 — has ruled on the
issue.

It is clearly spelled out in the halachah that worshipers cannot sing the Kad-
dish or the Kedushah with the hazzan. I say this, knowing that in almost all
Sephardic communities the kahal participate in singing Kedushah with the
hazzan. Yet, I am aware of no rabbinic precedent on which they can base this
practice.

The subject merits a detailed investigation. Unfortunately, the status of
prayer today has dropped considerably, and the boundary between hazzan
and kahal has blurred altogether. Wherever congregational singing has un-
dermined the hazzan's function as sheliach tsibbur, the nusach — or modal
chant in which prayer was offered for generations— has disappeared.

Let me cite an example. Removal of the Torah scrolls from the Holy Ark
on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur was always done to a special nusach. I
recently attended High Holy Day services in a synagogue where the hazzan
removed the scroll and sang Sh'ma Yisrael (Hear, O Israel) to a melody used
every Shabbat of the year. Later, when I mentioned it to him, he told me, "The
congregation is not used to the High Holy Day chant for Sh'ma, and wouldn't
have been able to repeat it. That's why I didn't sing Sh'ma to the proper nusach."
Here, in microcosm, we see how congregational singing affects not only what
the hazzan does, but also what the kahal is expected to do.

Over a hundred years ago the Yiddish writer Mendele Mocher Sforim
sounded an alarm over the phenomenon of congregational singing and its
disruption of cantorial function. His short story, Emek HaBochoh ("Vale of
Tears") satirically depicts the effects of this upheaval upon the hazzan, Leizer
Yankl.

Leizer Yankl is, after all, the congregation's sheli'ach tsibbur, who stands and
pleads for them on the Day of Judgement each year. But — as is their habit — the
Children of Israel always mix into everyone else's business. And even if their
representative before God is one in ten-thousand, an advocate whose equal
cannot easily be found, they butt into his presentation of their case and add their

10 Aseh L'cha Rav, Vol. 7, responsum 10.

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own two cents' worth, all the while thinking: 'I also know a thing or two, and
certainly as much as he does. True, he's acting as my agent before the Ribono
shel Olom (Master of the Universe). But even so, one cannot rely completely
on him. Since I don't depend on him for my livelihood, it's best that I speak on
my own behalf!' And a din rises on high, a yelling and a screaming that only
God in heaven can sort out and fathom exactly what it is that His poor Jews
are asking from Him. 11

As a result of today's congregational yelling, our younger generation no
longer recognizes — or reacts to — the synagogue chants that form the basis of
Jewish worship. The hazzan has gone from congregational emissary in prayer
to congregational song leader. And the songs he (or she) leads hold nothing
in common with the purity and devotion of traditional nusach.

How I long for the sound — the heady atmosphere — of simple daven'n
(chanted prayer) . That's reason enough to continue petitioning the One Who
Hears Prayer for return of the hazzan to his amud (prayer stand, facing the
Ark) and the return of hazzanut to its former glory as in days of old.

A much sought-after Israeli lecturer and journalist, Akiva Zimmermann has
published over 500 articles, reviews and essays on the history and performance
of Jewish sacred music for numerous periodicals, and in several languages. This
summary ofresponsa is based on his book, Shaarei Ron: Hazzanut in Rabbinic
Literature and Halachah (Tel Aviv: Mofet-Rosemarin, 1 992).

11 Kol Kitvei Mendele Mocher Sforim (Tel Aviv: Dvir, 1951), p. 169.

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The Cantor's Spiritual Challenge:
Denning "Agency" In Prayer

by Benjie Ellen Schiller

It is not proving easy, in a spiritual sense, for sh'lichei tsibbur to lead con-
gregational singing in today's synagogue. The problem lies not in the lack
of enthusiasm or interest of the congregation. In fact, our congregants ap-
preciate the importance of music in prayer more than ever before. They are
actively involved in the service and singing enthusiastically. There is, however,
a lack of inspiration coming from us, the cantorial leaders. We are finding
ourselves singing/chanting the same pieces, week in and week out, with the
same expression for every service.

We come to our profession with hopes of bringing kavvanah, spiritual
intention to prayer. We come to our congregations knowing that the music
and texts of our tradition, when sung from the heart, have the power to
bring holiness and wholeness to a broken world. But in the midst of today's
liturgical styles we cantors seem to have only limited opportunities to bring
that expression to the service. So much of today's synagogue music is sung
by the entire congregation. The cantor of today functions, to a great extent,
as a leader of community singing. The prayers are largely a group rendering,
necessitating particular styles of repertoire, a diminished solo role for the
cantor, and limited avenues for particular kinds of cantorial expression.

Clearly, our congregants need to hear and to sing the familiar music they
know and love. We sh'lichei tsibbur understand and appreciate the idea that
singing the familiar tunes and chants is prayer itself Tor those who regularly
come to our services. Contrary to our own experience as leaders, the con-
gregation finds the routine of the musical liturgy renewing and spiritually
sustaining. (And so it has been for as long as prayer has existed.)

The problem, as I see it, is that we professionals are becoming spiritually
disenfranchized from the congregations we lead. What congregants see as
an ambiance of stability, rootedness and comfort, cantors view as a limited
venue for expressivity and prayerfulness. Sameness, we are finding, can lead to
dullness. We risk our own prayers becoming rote and devoid of inspiration.
Our language of prayer has consisted of a musical repertoire rich in an array
of cantorial styles. We yearn for the inspiration such a complex repertoire
provides us. Yet the congregation's need to sing the familiar tunes limits our
possibilities for varying the repertoire and developing a balance of expression

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and style in the music. We lose our interest musically, and in the process,
lose our interest spiritually.

Perhaps some of the challenge resides within us, the leaders. When we lead
the congregation in the same music for the hundredth time it is hard for us
not to become set in our ways of expression. Whether it be a folk song, a
simple chant, or Sulzer and Lewandowski, one should render the prayer with
conviction. The focus should be how one sings to God. We understand the
language of interpretation and expressivity in our solo or choral repertoire.
In contrast, to be quite honest, a hundred people singing the same unison
melody every week is about as graceful and heartfelt as a herd of elephants
marching all at once. How can we leaders prevent the deadening of a prayer
when its musical rendition bores us to tears? How can one derive meaning
from music that becomes tiresome?

I know what you're thinking. It's that same old tired tune. How can I find
meaning or inspiration when the music simply becomes too familiar? How
about spontanaeity in prayer, some sense of the the unexpected? We long
for subtlety and fluidity in the music, a variation of tempi and dynamics. Is
such expression possible when all sing together?

The truth is that we all desire genuine, heart-filled expression. It is a mis-
conception that the people we serve want to sing the liturgy exactly the same
way, every time they pray. They might think that's what they want, but I beg
to differ. They know dullness and monotony when they hear it. They feel as
unmoved as their leaders when prayer has no spark of life.

Perhaps the sameness or the routine need not necessarily lead to dullness.
I propose we not go into cruise control the minute we hear/play the intro-
duction of a familiar piece and begin to sing the first notes. Our expression
need not be identical to what it was the week before. Each day is new; each
prayer offers a new opportunity for reaching further. The innate capacity for
expressivity lies within each of us, from the professional musician to those
who cannot carry a tune. It takes compassionate, sensitive leadership to en-
able the entire congregation to sing with tenderness, intensity, or playfulness.
Such emotion can be modeled and taught. The challenge lies mostly in our
attitude, both musically and psychologically. Consider the following:
1. We must re-examine the way we measure excellence in the music of our
service. In the performance world, musical excellence involves the rehearsed
performance of a solo or ensemble performed by professionals and usually
involving complex music. The goals are technical proficiency, artistic mastery
and interpretive expressivity. In the prayer world, musical excellence requires

*

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sincerity in one's expression, a clear connection to the text, musical mastery
and communication that moves others to pray.

2. To take the simple and make it holy requires compassion and patience. The
singing of music that invites participation is a prayerful and sometimes cathartic
experience for others. Our job is to find ways to create such moments within
each musical style we offer.

3. The usage of participatory music in the synagogue need not negate the usage
of all other cantorial music. Since when has the singing of one musical style
preempted the singing of other styles?

4. Many creative possibilities exist for growth and change in your service. The
key is balance. Think holistically about the flow of the service in its entirety.
When changes are presented sensitively, miracles are possible.

5. Artistry in prayer comes from one's intention as much as from one's perfor-
mance. When a leader merely "gets through" a prayer, saving the real expression
for other pieces, what is the message that is conveyed? Our goal is to uncover
the prayer within all of the music, whatever the musical style.

6. Spontaneity is not a lost art. Variation is a given in the interpretation of both
cantorial and folk music. Why not enliven and vary the ways we render such
pieces? Is there only one accompaniment and one tempo for Oseh Shalom? Try
to experiment with tempi, dynamics, etc., so as to render more expressively
those works with no set arrangement. Prepare the accompanist — or choir, in
a traditional synagogue — with several arrangements of a given piece. Trust
your instincts. Respond to the mood of the congregation in the service. Be
ready to choose the arrangement of the piece that best expresses that prayer,
at that moment. Your accompanist or choir leader needs only a cue and a page
turn to follow you.

7. Remember that the piece is still meant for the congregation to sing. Strive
for expression that enriches the piece without overwhelming the inherent char-
acter and shape of the melody. The goal is not to confuse the congregation.

8. Use the choir as plants. Teach the melody of a new piece to the choir at a
rehearsal before the service. Spread out the choir members among the con-
gregation. Empower them to be leaders to support the congregation's learning
of new repertoire. (Merri Arian, on the faculty at HUC, suggests the choir not
sing a full arrangement with harmony until the congregation has mastered the
piece. When the congregation can comfortably carry the melody on its own,
the choir may add the new harmony.)

9. Be present and attuned. Strive for tsimtsum to empower the congregation to
sing with confidence. (Hold back and listen at every possible opportunity.) Try
to receive as well as give. Our congregants can become a heavenly choir if we
let them.

*

*

The sacred enterprise in which we are engaged demands our atten-
tion to prayerfulness, whatever its musical language. We will continue
to strive for a healthy balance of musical styles; this is our mandate.
But let us remember that God's presence resides not only in the mu-
sic we love but also in the melodies we struggle with. May we bring
openness and understanding to these challenges, ever striving to sing
the songs of our people with renewed vigor and sacred intention.

Benjie Ellen Schiller is full-time Professor of Cantorial Arts atHUC, part-time
cantor of Bet Am Shalom Synagogue in White Plains, NY, and is featured in her
own compositions on a solo recording, A World Fulfilled. She is a member of the
philanthropic singing ensemble, Beged Kefet, and serves on the cantorial faculty
of the Institute for Jewish Spirituality.

+

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Congregational Singing as a Norm of Performance within
the Modal Framework of Ashkenazi Liturgical Music

by Boaz Tarsi

The Modal Framework

Discussions of theory of Ashkenazi liturgical music are scarce. Not only few
and far between, these discussions are usually interspersed, or incorporated
within, or can only be extracted from narratives that are primarily historical -
or comparative-musicology or as occurs more often in the latter part of the
twentieth century, within context-oriented ethnomusicological discourse.
Other topics that are related to the prayer music of the Ashkenazi tradition
and its affiliated customs are also found lodged within a variety of non-musical
discussions or contexts whose underlying paradigm is not a musical one. In
my explorations of synagogue music I have come to discover that most top-
ics can be better explicated and allow room for emergence of a much clearer
picture when we examine this discipline as a "modal framework."

Coined by Daliah Cohen, the term "modal framework" served her as a
paradigm in which to examine and explicate various repertoires outside of
the Western common practice. 1 The modal framework paradigm suits these
repertoires well because it can organize systematically their constituent
musical variables and incorporate interrelationships among them as well as
a mixture of extra-musical factors, whose function in these musics is an inte-
gral part of and inseparable from the musical variables. In very broad-brush
strokes such modal framework would be defined as the aggregate synthesis
of its distinct musical and extra-musical components, but more importantly,
as the total arrangement of the particular connections and interrelationships
among them.

The musical and extra-musical factors that are controlled by the modal
framework vary from one body of repertoire to another. By "control" I am
referring to those factors that within the given modal framework are not left
entirely up to the performer but rather dictated by a variety of considerations,
almost always as a result of some interconnections among some of its constitu-
ent factors. Thus the "controlled" factors that comprise the modal framework
are also those that maintain a variety of interrelationships among them.

We may gain a better understanding of this concept as we examine the pri-
mary considerations involved in classifying the liturgical music of Ashkenazi
tradition as one such case of modal framework.

1 Cohen 1971a, 1986.

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♦

The musical factors in the Ashkenazi liturgical tradition that are clearly
controlled (and therefore interrelated) are scales, motifs and musical char-
acteristics, 2 Steigers? intervals, free tetrachrods and pentachords (those that
are separate from a complete scale), melodies, range, and ambitus. In addi-
tion, there may be a certain degree of control over meter 4 and at this stage

2 The detailed explanation of what I mean by "musical characteristics" and how
they are different from motifs is beyond the scope of this discussion. In short, "musical
characteristic" is here used to mean a constituent member of the set of the minimal
variables that each of the motivic variants from which it is extracted should have. Thus
a musical characteristic is a blue-print of sorts, a code for a spectrum of derivative
motifs and their variants. The closest concept to this model is the idea of "meme" as
introduced in Dawkins 1976. For an illustration of what these musical characteristics
comprise in two specific cases (Adonai Malach andMagenAvot) see Tarsi 2001-2002:
61-63 and Tarsi 2001: 10-14.

3 Although much discussion, research and clear explication is still to be pursued
regarding the definition and meaning of Steiger, I use this traditional term in reference
to the scale system of this modal framework. By definition, the Steiger system does not
consist of scales only but rather constitutes a scalar framework for improvisation on
given motifs and other musical characteristics within an intricate network of inter-
relationships with other musical and extra-musical factors. The study of Steiger is not
within the scope of this article. For a clearer, although initial and partial discussions
of this term and an exploration of the phenomena it represents, see Avenary 1960:
190-191, 194 (primarily an attempt to "translate" the term from its insider's usage),
Avenary 1971, Levine 1980-81: 13-15, and Tarsi 2002a: 178-179 and 2001-2002. For
other discussions, which can only be read critically and understood within context and
era, see primarily Cohon 1950, Idelsohn 1933: xx-xxvi, Levine 1989: 79-106 (discussed
as "the principal prayer modes"), and Werner 1976: 46-64. Indeed one of the most
significant outcomes of the modal framework model is that it bypasses the dead-end
previous discussions have encountered when attempting to use "scales, motifs, typical
phrases," etc, in the definition of Steiger. Within the modal framework paradigm, Steiger
is one component in a larger structure and as such it expresses itself, depending on the
specific case, as a particular aggregate of relationships among various musical variables,
as well as among these musical variables and a variety of extra musical components.
For two case studies in this matter see Tarsi 2001 and 2001-2002.

4 To what extent meter is a factor in this modal framework is yet to be fully
examined. At the present stage of inquiry, it seems that meter is mostly a free, uncon-
trolled variable that most of the time is not interrelated to other factors. Nevertheless,
it seems to play some role, and thus, connected to some other factors when it comes
to metrical texts (such as Piyyut), certain musical characteristics whose constituents
may include a distinction between accented and non-accented notes, and of course,
metrical tunes and the occasion and text considerations in distinguishing between

64

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of my exploration, I would leave rhythm as uncontrolled. To what degree
form is controlled, and even what constitutes "form" in this repertoire is to
be explored, and it seems that dynamics, timbre, intonation, melisma versus
non-melisma, texture, and vocal production, are not controlled. The extra-
musical factors involved are primarily text, time of day, calendar (day of the
week, day of the month, week of the year, month) holiday, season, occasion,
and ritual. The question of ethos as an extra-musical factor, to what degree
it is involved in this modal framework and what its function is, if any, is the
topic of an article currently under preparation. 6

The variety of musical and extra-musical factors and their interrelationships
is reflected across all of the various constituents of the repertoire. Each given
repertoire sample can thus be examined as one case of such interrelationships.
As such, these connections may be reflected in macro connections as large
as for example, Kabbalat Shabbat -» Adonai Malach; Shabbat Shacharit
K'dushat HaYom -* Ahavah Rabbah; or "M'ein Sheva paragraphs" on Friday
night -* Magen Avot. Granted, each one of these large categories contains
other, more detailed levels of interrelationships. Within Magen Avot for ex-
ample, we can "zoom-in" onto one subset of micro-connections. One such
example may involve a very high level of control, specifically as the text, motif,
and function are very specifically defined:

day of the week

Friday

time of day

evening

ritual

cantor's repetition substitute

Steiger

Magen Avot

scale

minor

text

one specific word — Vaychulu

motif

l-(3)-5

function

opener

usage of metrical tunes and non-metrical material.

5 The notion of rhythm (as well as meter) in this repertoire, calls for a different
paradigm from that of the Western common practice, because it has no clear beat
(see Frigyesi 1993). Granted, there certainly are characteristic rhythmic traits to this
repertoire. Nevertheless, at the moment rhythm does not seem to be controlled by
the modal framework, thus there is no set, prescribed way by which it is intercon-
nected with other factors.

6 In Avenary 1971: 18-19 the author takes an initial step toward tackling the
issue of ethos in connection to the Adonai Malach Steiger. The starting point for his
attempt is the title Adonai Malach (The Lord Reigns) itself. Avenary thus examines
a few liturgical references to the subject of kingship and finds little evidence to sup-

*

*

The foregoing paradigm presents a high degree of specificity in these con-
nections and a low degree of freedom for variants or textual connection or
other functions. Yet another "micro level," one with a lower level of specificity
both in defining the motivic material, as well as making connection to extra-
musical components, would be:

day of the week

Saturday

time of day

before midday

ritual

cantor's repetition

Steiger

Ahavah Rabbah

text

any within K'dushat HaYom for
both Musaf and Shacharit

motif

any free combination of notes
selected from a major pentachord
based on lower 7 of the Ahavah
Rabbah scale' 7

function

pre-concluding phrase

Within this concept we can also incorporate any observations, discussions,
or explications of congregational singing as parts of the paradigm. The prem-
ise would be that congregational singing, itself, also bears a characteristic
relation to the modal framework, because it is one aspect of yet another
factor that this framework seems to control or dictate, a factor that I call
"norm of performance"

It is worth noting at this point that currently among modern cantorial,
rabbinical, and educational circles, the word "performance" in the context of
the synagogue service has taken on a pejorative sense. The evident apprehen-
sion over use of this word is primarily a reaction to the affectation of, over-
involvement in, and a high priority assigned to the concern for the cantor's
own presentation rather than the primary objective of serving the community
in delivering its prayer to God. Nevertheless, use of the word "performance"
as the expression for an undesirable occurrence, and attributing to the word
a derogatory connotation in this field is not only unjustifiable but is also in
the way of a clear view of the reality.

To begin with, as is the case in all circumstances in which an activity is
done by an individual in the presence of what is technically an audience,
there would by default bound to be an element deemed undesirable (in the
circles mentioned) owing to the very fact of the performance's existence. But
more important, the original meaning of the word as simply the execution
of an action as in performing a task needs not be lost because of de rigueur
notions of propriety. Moreover, this ordinary usage of the word is necessary

port a connection between the n
altogether.

7 See footnote 14.

nd therefore the notion of ethos

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♦

and crucial to any serious discussion and genuine observation of the para-
digmatic material under review.

So far as the phenomena this term legitimately represents within the modu-
lar paradigmatic discipline discussed here, "norm of performance" refers to
the variety of manners by which the prayer and ritual find their respective
vocal expressions. These include cantorial recitation (with a variety of levels of
embellishments), 8 responsive chant, b'rachot responsorial, other responsori-
als, cantor's framing, 9 cantorial fantasia, "dry" semi-spoken declamation
(such as done in Kaddish Shalem or Mi Sheberach for individuals) speaking,
whispering, mumbling, silence, congregational chanting, heterophonic chant
mumbling, * and unison congregational signing of metrical tunes.

8 In insider parlance this is known as "davenin',' or "straight davenin!

" This term refers to the norm in which the cantor chants the first and last few

lines of given paragraphs or designated sections. In between the opening and closing
lines the cantor chants, the norm may be any combinations of, or moving in and out
of silence, whispering, semi-chant, mumbling, or heterophonic chant mumbling. If
the text calls for it, this norm may include a b'rachot responsorial (typically at the
closing of the section.)

10 I use the term "cantorial fantasia" in the spirit (although not exactly the
same meaning) of Avenary 1968. Although not used very often, and almost never
within this context, Avenary's term is by far more appropriate than the insider's term
"recitative." The nature and characteristics of this genre (which sounds rather like
an elaborate aria, including cadenza-like sections, coloratura gestures, and much
embellishment) are the exact opposite of the definition and traits of the recitative in
the general Western music literature. See also Wohlberg 1982, 1987-88, and Ephros
1976. The cantorial fantasia is probably the least common norm of performance in
modern and post modern America, where it has been replaced by English or Hebrew
reading (either by the Rabbi, the congregation, or responsively), with possible cantor's
recitation and possibly interspersed with an occasional congregational tune, various
combinations of these norms of performance, or omitting a part or all of the related
text. This, in essence, constitutes one of the cases in which the music, specifically
the norm of performance, has a significant effect on the textual aspect of the liturgy.
Specifically, certain textual sections are slowly disappearing, or at least, are not read
or expressed, because of the original norm of performance that was assigned to them
(cantorial fantasia). Thus the original norm of performance (or more accurately,
the attitude toward it) becomes the cause for the loss of certain textual parts of the
liturgy.

11 What I here call heterophonic chant-mumbling is one of the most typical
characteristics of the authentic synagogue sound. It occurs when each member of the

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The various norms of performance can be combined or interspersed in dif-
ferent combinations. For example, K'dushah combines responsorials, cantorial
recitation, congregational singing, and heterophonic chant mumbling, and
Sh'ma uVirchoteha combines cantor's framing, cantorial recitation with (at
times) congregational singing, heterophonic chant mumbling, silence, and
b'rachot responsorial.

From the examination of the various factors within the modal framework
of Ashkenazi liturgical music, it is clear that norm of performance is treated
with varying degrees of freedom and is interconnected to musical and ex-
tra-musical variables. These primarily concern tonality and scale or Steiger
but also given melodies (for example, the various "MiSinai tunes"), metric
and rhythmical considerations, and to some degree, as I demonstrate later,
motivic considerations. 12 The extra musical factors include given texts, oc-
casion, season, and ritual. To sum up briefly, norm of performance is yet
another constituent of the modal framework, and as such, a "zoom in" to one
particular connection such as the one I presented above, may look like the
following, when norm of performance is added:

day of week

Friday

times of day

evening

mode

"Friday Night mode" (applicable
motifs in major or minor, depend-
ing on version)

ritual

b'rachot before the Amidah

text

Sh'ma uVirchoteha

norm of performance

cantor's framing with congrega-
tional heterophonic chant-mum-
bling, and b'rachot responsorials.

congregation quietly (almost to himself) mumbles chant-like patterns, approximating
the same musical gesture on the same text (although not clearly enunciating it) but
not on the same absolute pitch, speed, rhythm, or the exact musical pattern. Seroussi
1997 explores the various functions and liturgical aspects associated with the same
phenomenon, which he labels as "sound." I offer that the there may be a connection
between the various "sound" phenomena and norms of performance and as such,

connection constitutes another component within the modal framework.

See discussion of Wohlberg's "Kad'shenu B'Mitsvotecha" and example 1

*

♦

Or:

time of year/occasion

High Holidays

time of day

evening

scale

major

ritual

b'rachot before the Amidah

text

I'ela ul'ela mikol birchata; Mi Cha-
mocha; Adonai yimloch le'olam
va'ed; hapores sukkat shalom

norm of performance

congregational singing, metrical
tune.

In a similar manner we can connect the liturgical complex: occasion -»
Yom Kippur; time of day -* any; ritual -* S'lichot; text -» Sh'ma Kolenu;
Steiger/mode -» "S'licha mode;" 13 scale g minor + Ukrainian Dorian; textual
structure -* quasi-psalm symmetrical strophic lines; norm of performance
-» responsorial with heterophonic chant mumbling.

Other examples may include responsorial with heterophonic chant mum-
bling and metrical tunes during K'dusha, congregational singing for Halle-
luya in the Shofarot section of Rosh Hashanah or a cantorial fantasia for Ata
Nigleta in the same section. Although I am not accounting for them here, in
each of these liturgical sections the norm of performance is one factor among
several (scale, tonality, Steiger, motifs, musical characteristics, texts, ritual,
occasion, calendar, etc.) Thus, just as the modal framework prescribes the
various musical factors and their interrelationships with the extra-musical
factors, so does it dictate which norm of performance is applicable in each
case, and also, as a subset of this, when congregational singing is an organic
part of the system, and what musical and extra-musical factors are involved
in each instance where it is performed.

13 Commendable work on the subject in Levine 1989 and 2001 notwithstand-
ing, "S'licha mode" is yet to be thoroughly explored and systematically defined. An
especially illuminating demonstration of the need for a clear definition, and the pos-
sible misleading consequences of the current deficiency can be observed in Slobin's
attempt to unpack the "nusach" for Ashrey in the S'lichot service, with significantly
limited conclusions (Slobin 1989: 260-264). For the objectives undertaken in this
article, I am using "S'licha mode" in its insider's meaning associated with the chant
for texts such as Sh'ma Kolenu, Avinu Malkenu, and L'El Orech Din among many
others.

*

♦

A case in point: in a chance opportunity a few years ago, I happened to
hear S'licha mode performed with a norm different from the one prescribed
for it by the modal framework. It was in a memorial Mincha service at JTS
(though I am not sure if it was for Yom Hasho'a, Yom Hazikaron, or some other
similar occasion.) The cantor leading that service performed a few psalms in
the traditional "S'licha mode" manner, and indeed effected a responsorial.
Nevertheless, the congregation, comprised primarily of rabbinical and canto-
rial students, who are clearly invested in being good students but who were
unfamiliar with the constitutional norm of performance (heterophonic chant
mumbling responsorial), responded by singing the basic S'licha mode line in
exact unison, with the same notes, same tempo, same rhythm— all very well
articulated, even with the same dynamics— clearly and cleanly sounding, per-
fectly as one. Yet, the result, musically speaking, was markedly different from
the sound expected for this liturgy, and it sounded like an artificially produced,
almost surreal morph of what this music is supposed to be. Indeed, should a
complete outsider (and not one conditioned by Western music) were to wit-
ness this rendition, they would in all likelihood, consider this a completely
different species of music from the one expressed in the traditional rendering
of S'licha mode. This realization of S'licha mode was just as "off" as it would
have been had this congregation used the wrong motivic material, because
the norm of performance was not the one associated with this mode.

We can test the high degree to which norm of performance is an organic
variable in the modal framework and is interconnected just as tightly as other
factors, in cases where the same text appears but the occasion, ritual, and time
are different. We can observe that the norm of performance is specifically
prescribed, and it changes according to these factors just as much as motifs,
modes, or tonalities do. For example, while on Friday evening the Veshamru
paragraph at the tail-end oiSh'ma uVirchoteha is sung in either minor or
major and is otherwise free of modal or motivic considerations, it often takes
on a regular metrical and rhythmic character, and is very conducive to con-
gregational singing. Yet the same paragraph on Saturday morning is part of
the cantor's repetition, sung in Ahavah Rabbah, including its related motifs,
and is actually even more tightly connected to motivic material because of
one motif that is more likely to appear at that juncture. ^ It is done in flow-

14 What is colloquially referred to, primarily in JTS-related circles, as the
"Rumania motif" (the term was coined by Charles Davidson) in Ahavah Rabbah, is
connected more specifically to the text between after the K'dusha and the end of the
cantor's repetition, in both Shacharit and Musaf on Saturday. For further dis
of this motif see Tarsi 2002a: 186-188.

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ing rhythm and the norm of performance here is a solo cantorial recitation.
Another example of change in norm of performance connected to change
in occasion, time, and ritual (while keeping the same text) is the treatment
of the paragraph oiRetseh ViMnuchatenu. On Friday evening it is in Magen
Avot and done as a cantorial fantasia, while on Saturday morning it is in
Ahavah Rabbah and may take on the character of a congregational tune.
Thus, as one particular norm of performance, congregational singing too
is an organic part of the modal framework, inseparable from all its other
constituent variables.

Evidence from the Cantorial Manuscripts

A thorough examination of most of the available cantorial manuscripts of
the last two centuries reveals a clear picture of the musical character of the
Vaychulu paragraph chanted by the cantor on Friday night. As such, a general
description of its character would be a mosaic of sorts, of a variety of motifs,
many times combined into typical phrases, non metrical, and in a simple-to-
mildly ornamented cantorial recitation. These traits, among others, and the
various settings examined, point out that it would be unlikely that this was to
be chanted by anyone except the sh'liach tsibur. It is just as unlikely that these
settings would easily lend themselves to congregational singing, especially
in comparison with the third paragraph discussed immediately below. Thus,
in all likelihood, the traditional norm of performance of this paragraph has
been a simple-to-moderate ornamented cantor recitation.

In the third paragraph, however, (the one that begins with the words Magen
Avot), a distinct and characteristic change occurs. In one way or another, the
overwhelming majority of the sources manifest a change in the third paragraph
that suggests or represents organized, non-solo, and in all likelihood, congre-
gational singing, which by nature involves a more regulated, often metered
tune. In some sources this is where the texture changes from a solo line to a
four-part choral setting (Heller, Kornitzer, Sulzer), and/or from a free rhythm
to a metrical or rhythmically regulated setting or containing symmetrical
period phrases (Baer, Friedmann, Heller, Kavetzky, Lewandowski, Semiatin,
Scheuermann, Shnipelisky, Sulzer, Weisser). This may manifest itself by the
introduction of time signature in the third paragraph where none exists in the
first two. Other manuscripts include time signatures throughout the entire
four paragraphs. In those cases however, the time signature in the first two
paragraphs appears to be superimposed on "flowing rhythm" (see Frigyesi
1993), whereas in the third paragraph it reflects a genuine metrical character.
In Kwartin's manuscript this change is accompanied by a tempo indication

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(Andante.) Weintraub's setting is also illuminating: the entire paragraph is
notated as a four-part recitation tone similar to the congregational responses
on baruch hu uvaruch sh'mo throughout the service, thus rendering it musi-
cally equivalent to a congregational response. 15

Wodak's setting features a recitation tone on 5, which is marked: Chor
whereas the other paragraphs are marked: Cantor. Baer writes: Die Gemeinde
betet JTQN pa leise allein oder mit dem Vorbeter (the congregation says the
Magen Avot prayer quietly by itself or with the cantor), and Lewandowski's
setting includes the instructions: Chor u.G. Other sources verbally indicate
changes from Vorbeter to Gemeinde, Chasan to Choeur, Cantor or Kantor
to Chor or Cow, Cantor to Cong., or ITilto^np. In Semiatin's manuscript the
Vaychulu paragraph is marked: recit., and the Magen Avot paragraph indicates:
congregation. In addition to the verbal instructions, some sources provide
music only for the beginning of the paragraph (Semiatin), the beginning and
ending ( Wodak), omit a significant part of it (Alter, Katchko, Ogutsch), or
omit it all together (Kohn, Naumbourg), all of which are idiomatic conven-
tions to indicate congregation participation, normally the singing of a familiar
melody.

Another interesting illustration of this phenomenon is provided in the
manuscripts of Gerovitsch, Nowakowsky, and Zemachson, all of which com-
prise choral settings exclusively. These manuscripts do not provide music for
the Friday evening service except for this paragraph. 16

By similar methodologies I also ascertained that the fourth paragraph (Ret-
seh ViMnuchatenu) is a cantorial fantasia, and the second paragraph (Birkat
Sheva) is a b'racha responsorial. Granted, these norms of performance dictate
a higher degree of freedom than in the Vaychulu paragraph so far as motivic
content is concerned. Nevertheless, the core sources reflect a substantial level
of adherence to Steiger in the cantorial fantasias. 17 Naturally, cases of motivic
content in congregational singing of the Retseh paragraph do not exist in the
canon because the modal framework does not prescribe it. The American
practice of singing this paragraph congregationally is part of a general trend

15 Weintraub, 1901/1859: 26-27.

16 Gerovitsch (1897: 141) also provides music for the Vaychulu paragraph, in
all likelihood a reflection of the halachic implications discussed below.

17 See for example my examination of the motivic content of Sulzer's Friday
night Retseh in Tarsi 2001-2002: 70-71.

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that I discuss below. ° Nevertheless, a setting by Max Wohlberg does include
a few motifs found in the Magen Avot mode:^^

Similar indications for such organized, metrical, and congregational sing-
ing is found in various sources, in connection with certain liturgical units.
Select few examples among many are found in the cantorial manuscripts:
beginning with the words ki vanu vacharta in the Friday Night Kiddush (e.g.,
Lewandowski, Weintraub); Halleluyah, hallelu el bekodsho after A to Nigleta
(Shofarot) on Rosh Hashanah (e.g., Lewandowski, Weisser); Veshamru on
Friday evening - while the preceding Hashkivenu is rendered a cantorial
fantasia (e.g., Sulzer). 20

18 In addition to a deviation from the norm of performance, the most com-
mon tune for this is in Ahavah Rabbah, clearly borrowed from the Saturday morning
services. The origins of this tune are not entirely clear to me. In The Cantors Voice
(April 1953:6) Max Wohlberg wrote: "In the twenties and the thirties [this tune], in
great vogue in our traditional Synagogues... was simultaneously attributed to Binder,
Idelsohn and Goldfarb." The use of Ahavah Rabbah here renders this practice further
removed from and particularly dissonant with the modal framework, because it goes
against the grain of occasion sensitivity, which is one of this modal framework's primary
defining traits.

19 Nathanson 1974 (vol. 1): 108. The marked motifs in this example correspond
with the Magen Avot motivic description in Tarsi 2001-2002:61. A - Opening motif of
ascending 1-3-5. B - Recitation tone. The first one in this setting may be a borderline
case because it is so short. Nevertheless, within a metrical tune, this may be consid-
ered at least a reference to a recitation. In addition, it does fulfill the requirements as
I outlined them it Tarsi 2001-2002:61, as well as those set out by Avenary 1987:99. E
- Transposition of motif A into the relative major as an opening motif for a continuing
phrase. G - a skip from 5 to 8, 5 being an unaccented beat and 8 is accented; 5 shorter
than 8; opener of a later or concluding phrase. I - descending stepwise motion to the
tonic as an ending cadence.

20 These observations notwithstanding, it is important to realize that using these
musical manuscripts as informants for the norm of performance is a complicated
issue not free of its limitations, and more important, it calls for informed skill in read-
ing them. Two among many of the considerations involved in such reading are first,
the purpose of writing the manuscript (for example, it may be pedagogical, creative,
preservation, archival, documentation, research, academic, and perhaps others. For
a partial list of these manuscripts that includes some biographical information and
the objective behind writing them, see Avenary 1978: 78-84). Second, the degree to
which it is free as a composition, that is, which part of it represents free composition
and from which parts if any can we still extract evidence of traditional material in this

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^

;hu - vo Yis-ro - el m'-ka-d -shey sh'-me

Example 1. — Magen Avot motifs in Wohlberg's setting for
Friday night's Retseh ViMnuchatenu

context. Other affecting considerations are the norms and habits of the community
in which the transcriber served as a cantor, his own agenda, the role of the choir in
the transcriber's community, and what the choir's part in the manuscript represents
— whether consciously or not. Granted, though differing as to its set of limitations,
material derived from interviews of living informants too has to be interpreted and
processed with certain influencing constraints in mind. In this respect, Avenary's ap-
proach to the eighteenth- and nineteenth-century cantorial manuscripts as informants
is very applicable to this undertaking (Avenary 1978 passim, and 1968: 66.) In fact, in
almost all cases in which Avenary mentions these manuscripts he refers to them as
"informants."

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Evidence from Code, Customs, and Commentary

While there is very little documentation for specific musical practices in the
canon, and practically no musical transcription for the Ashkenazi liturgical
tradition before the nineteenth century, 21 we can, in fact, find textual refer-
ences from which we can infer the considerations that affected the norm of
performance in general and congregational participation specifically.

The first paragraph of the liturgical section we examined in the cantorial
manuscripts above (Vaychulu) is also the topic of some textual discussions.
In YitschakBen Arieh 1868:190, a reference is made (fromP'sachim page 106)
asserting that the section should be said out loud by the congregation while
standing up. The reason provided for standing is that the evocation called for
by the section constitutes a testimony to the fact that God is the creator of
heaven and earth. It further argues that this act is equivalent to testifying in
court, which should be given while standing up and which requires at least
two people, (and therefore, presumably, the cantor alone is not sufficient.)

...n~\ ^pn nVsnn ins iVim im^ frxw na V'p *p DTiosa msoinn iara i^m

xinw n"3pn"7 rrny Kintz/ ^ 7»m»i ai ^ipn rax 1 ? ww Toim tit ps nro pi

. . .trtMNn •'in? nasTi Trirn 7»yi» rmsn pxi d^w

This paragraph (Vaychulu), however, does not contain the musical indi-
cations for such congregational or non-solo singing, nor does it present the
metric tune or otherwise regulated material as found in the settings for the
third paragraph. Though explanations for this discrepancy between the textual
indications for congregational participation and the evidence of the actual
musical practice, which precludes it, are necessarily speculative at this time,
several possible reasons may be at play. Of foremost importance to note in
this case is that the verbal indications for congregational singing of Vaychulu
derive from the Tosafot. In communities that did not follow the indications
in the Tosafot (or whose leadership clergy did not comply with them), these
instructions became superfluous. It may also be that the congregants and
clergy were aware of the Tosafot but because the music is not conducive
to congregational singing, the Tosafot were ignored. Another possibility is
that "lip service" of sorts was offered (as indicated in many prayer books) in
which, officially at least, the Vaychulu paragraph was formally considered a

21 I am referring here to evidence for prayer music and not for the musical
interpretation of cantillations for which we do have some documentation from the
early sixteenth century (see Avenary 1975). For a complete account of Jewish music
sources of earlier periods (mostly not of Ashkenazi origins) see Adler 1989. For textual
references to music, see Adler 1975.

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place for congregational singing but the congregation might not have joined
the cantor in musical material that is de facto, not suitable for congregational
singing. No matter what the explanation may be, the musical tradition subro-
gates the conventional opinion of the Tosafot. 22 A possible solution for this
conundrum may be gleaned from Jehoshua Ne'eman's instructions which
may be interpreted either as an indication for the congregation to only begin
the paragraph, or to begin it with the cantor and then later complete it by
themselves, but in both cases the cantor continues alone from the second
phrase onwards (Ne'eman 1968/69:38).

Consider now the distinction between the part of the cantor and that of
the congregation during the K'dushah. The prescribed dialogue between the
cantor and the congregation is bound to be affected by musical choices. This
dialogue is indicated in the prayer book, but more important, this indication
reflects an instruction from the code. Shulchan Aruch indicates the follow-
ing:

two iv "ims f"ot nifi mnrjm ypnw vbx -\ur-ipi y"w m? cmaix TQ^n ts
23 . izmp ■nrnxn u^v no nump 1 ?

This translates to "The congregation does not say Nakdish'cha with the
sh'liach tsibbur but rather, stays quiet and directs its concentration towards

22 There is also the obvious temptation to conclude that, contrary to the con-
ventional assumptions, this discrepancy stems from the fact that the musical tradition
for Vaychulu that we find in the nineteenth-century manuscripts had already been in
place by the time Even Yarchi made this observation. This notion, therefore, would
presume that the Vaychulu music preceded the Tosafot, which would place it before
the middle of the twelfth century (Even Yarchi lived c. 1155-1215.) As seductive as
this speculation may be, I only begrudgingly acknowledge it at all, and this I do with
great trepidation. The study of the Ashkenazi musical tradition is plagued with blurry
speculations, weak arguments, unsupported statements, and bad theory, most of
which stem from a historical-musicology narrative that is beset on the one hand by a
paucity of early documentation fomenting an allure of attaining historical perspective,
and on the other, an agenda that strives to show the antiquity of this material and its
precedence to other traditional disciplines. This kind of narrative — highly specula-
tive historical musicology, supported neither by a valid matrix of documentation nor
by a sound field of music theory and predisposed toward various agendas — has only
contributed to misunderstanding and lack of clarity. I therefore see nothing to gain
from such questionable historical conclusions but the danger of falling into one or
more of the various traps along this route.

23 Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chayim, Hilchot T'fillah, siman 125, Diney
K'dushah.

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what the sh'liach tsibbur is saying until he comes to K'dushah at which point
the congregation should enter with the response Kadosh, kadosh, kadosh"
Significantly, this is an example in which a musical choice would affect the
synagogue ritual in aspects that are beyond the musical realm by way of the
norm of performance. By definition, any musical setting for the K'dushah
section would dictate whether the responsorial would be retained. Specifi-
cally, if texts customarily chanted by the cantor alone are set to regularized
and metrical tunes, such occurrences would effect congregational singing at
a time in which according to Shulchan Aruch they should be silent.

Substituting the responsorial with congregational singing in the entire
K'dusha section is more likely to occur during the Shabbat Musaf service.
A different kind of distortion occurs in the K'dushah for Shabbat Shacha-
rit. A sense of dialogue is more likely to be retained during the Shacharit
service; nevertheless, not in the way intended by Shulchan Aruch. In many
American synagogues both the cantor and the congregation chant the entire
K'dushah section. What retains the sense of a responsive reading is that the
congregation does not sing simultaneously with the cantor. Thus the cantor
waits for the congregation to chant the first paragraph (Nekadesh et shim-
cha ba'olam) before singing it himself, then the congregation sings the first
response (Kadosh kadosh kadosh), to be repeated by the cantor, and so on.
In all likelihood, this is because here, as opposed to the Musaf service, the
use of congregational tunes is often very limited. Instead, the congregation's
participation is in a form of a heterophonic chant-mumbling. Typically, but
not always, this responsive chanting by the congregation subsides, even stops
at times, and then surges anew. For example, on Ve'Eynenu Tir'ena, a congre-
gational tune often in effect drives members of the congregation to join the
singing instead of waiting for the cantor to finish the entire paragraph before
repeating it by themselves.

This practice, apparently, is not new and did not originate in America. In-
deed the custom of having the congregation say the rest of the K'dushah text
beyond the designated responses is mentioned in Mishnah B'rurah (perek
kofkafheh, diney k'dushah se'ifalef) where it is also argued that this leniency
is inappropriate because the original instruction in Shulchan Aruch should
prevail. Granted, even this mode of participation retains a sense of dialogue
with the cantor because the congregation does not say this simultaneously with
the sh'liach tsibbur ( 1THH Blip HT D^aiXttf DTHD m&n }±) ). This practice
is the prevailing mode during most of the K'dushah section on the Shacharit
service. Nevertheless, regardless of the various interpretations and modes of
execution of this section, all of them denote a dialogue between the cantor

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and the congregation, which is lost if metrical congregational tunes are intro-
duced. It should be noted that some of the practices prescribed in Shulchan
Aruch were subject to reevaluation and change even within orthodoxy. The
point at issue, however, is that the norm of performance is rooted in and can
affect a halachic choice.

American Congregational Singing as a Bearer of Change in Norms of Per-
formance

Possibly the most significant characteristic trait of the American synagogue
is in the form of congregational participation. This difference manifests itself
in the extensive use of congregational metrical tunes that takes over other
norms of performance prescribed by the modal framework. Whether as their
cause or the effect, this trait is inseparable from other changes such as the
distinction between the cantor's role and that of the congregation as well as
that of the Rabbi, in terms of musical practice, ritual, and religious customs
and observance. The origins of this practice and the causes for its development
maybe numerous and their exploration verges into the realm of speculation. 24
Regardless of the various factors that contributed to this shift, it seems safe
to conclude that this feature came to be in order to serve as a tool to fulfill
unmet needs that stemmed from a lack in the American synagogue.

At the core of this phenomenon is the fact that until the twentieth century
in America, Jews throughout the diaspora were familiar with the prayers, their
language, their content and meaning. They were fully conversant in the syna-
gogue rituals and customs with which they were acquainted from early child-
hood and which constituted an organic part of everyday life of the individual
and the community. The authentic spiritual flavor of the Jewish prayer service
was attained through a tapestry of the various norms of performance as they
unfold within a given service. An example of such organization is examined
later below (see discussion of liturgical space.) Nevertheless, comprehending,
let alone feeling and internalizing this liturgical space crucially depends on
being completely conversant with synagogue rituals and customs, the liturgy
and its structure, the prayers, their language and their meaning, as well as
total ownership of the multiplicities of echoes and connotations which the
texts evoke. In such a scenario the deliberate inducing of congregational par-
ticipation is not a consideration because such activity is a natural and organic
part of the service. In fact the very existence of a special term to describe

24 For a discussion of this phenomenon as well as a partial explanation and
historical review see Wohlberg, 1968:58-66.

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this phenomenon indicates alienation from the authentic tradition in which
congregational participation was not merely an aspect of the service but in
itself was the service. And as such, congregational participation included
the entire spectrum of all the norms of performance, not only the unison
singing of metrical tunes. Even silence in this setting does not indicate pas-
siveness or alienation but constitutes yet another norm of performance,
which may mark a variety of modes of conduct reflecting understanding,
recognition, and anticipation of the next moment.

Modern and postmodern America reveals a scenario in which most Jews
do not p osses an understanding of Hebrew. Their comprehension of any other
aspects of the service and ritual is also very limited. Nevertheless, for reasons
that are not our concern in this discussion, the need for synagogue life has
still remained. Yet a community that cannot comprehend its religious practice
undoubtedly will feel estrangement from the service, from its content, and
from what it represents. The need to solve such a problem is obvious and
self-evident. Clearly the solution that seems to have begun in the early part of
the twentieth century was not attempted by setting a trend of education and
familiarizing people with their authentic tradition. Thus replacing numerous
aspects of the prayer service and the various norms of performance, by exten-
sive congregational singing was one of the devices by which to bring people
in who had no solid Hebrew/Jewish background or education. Throughout
this adaptive process, new tunes were composed, and some were borrowed
from other contexts and made to fit the liturgical texts.

Delineating the main markers of this process in the 1920s through the
1940s and into the 1950s would include the prevailing approach of Samuel-
Eliezer and Israel Goldfarb, with additional influence felt from the work of
Idelsohn, followed by that of Abraham Binder, Gershon Ephros and Asher
Goldenberg. 25 The last named also worked actively with Max Wohlberg who,
with his contemporaries, continued this trend through the 1950s, 1960s and
into the 1970s. The publication of the ZamruLo series (Nathanson 1955, 1960,
1974), and the current new edition (Shiovitz 2004) is yet another signpost
in this process.

We may also note the spiritual quest for meaning and new spirituality that
engulfed America in the 1960s and 1970s. Moreover, this trend expressed itself
also with the introduction of electrical guitars and other pop and rock musical
elements into some American churches. Naturally this musical trend did not

^ See Goldenberg, 1944.

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pass the American synagogue by. 26 The musical and liturgical foundations
had already been laid during the previous decades. Its deep imprinting on
the synagogue and Jewish education systems, which welcomed it with open
arms, came from the numerous musical settings and songs by Jeff Klepper
and Debbie Friedman. The fact that the latter kept strong ties with the general
American pop scene is especially illuminating. Interestingly enough, some
years ago at an interface candle-lighting ceremony in New York City, whose
main musical host was the group, Peter Paul and Mary, the Jewish element
was not represented by a traditional Hanukkah song either musically or in
its textual content, but by Paul Yarrow's Light One Candle.

The result of this sustained decades-long process has been a new kind
of involvement in the synagogue - a congregational mode of conduct in
which most members of the community can participate by merely grafting
foreign words onto simple melodies they can recognize and almost instantly
reproduce.

Mannerism

The application of melodies from outside of the Synagogue repertoire, such
as folk songs, popular music, and opera tunes to the prayer text is not new
and not characteristically American. Nevertheless, a particular brand of this
practice has developed in the United States, especially during the second half
of the twentieth century. This involves the use of Israeli songs in designated
sections of the liturgy. More than merely a departure from tradition, the de-
liberate superimposition of tunes from the new Jewish state transforms this
practice into a separate genre. The tunes selected are songs that are familiar
to the Jewish community and are recognized (or at least were so originally)
as Israeli songs. Their inclusion in the service, therefore, inevitably implies
added significance, which is not part of the prayer itself. Regardless of how
they may interpret this, the participants can be presumed to notice that the
cantor deliberately departs from the tradition in order to include the Israeli
tune. 27 Naturally some points regarding this custom are at issue: the quality
of the tune, the connection or lack thereof to the traditionally prescribed mu-

26 Interesting comments regarding this experience within American churches
as well as suggestions for applying its lessons to the present and future synagogue
experience were made by Donald Sloan at the 52 nd annual convention of the Cantors
Assembly in Monticello, NY, 1999.

27 The repeated use of such tunes at a certain point of the service creates a
tradition which, especially to younger congregants, paradoxically, may be perceived
and eventually identified as nusach.

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sic, the connection of the tune to the settings preceding and following it, and
the content and text of the original setting from which the tune is borrowed.
Regardless of one's position on these issues, what comes into focus here is
the gesture itself, hence an underlying sense of Mannerism. 28 One example
is the singing of a line from the K'dusha to the tune of the Israeli song Erev
Shel Shoshanim (music by Yossef Hadar, text by Moshe Dor). 29

In some instances an additional dimension is added to this practice: a tune
is selected because of some connection between its original text or func-
tion and the liturgical setting to which it is applied. Beyond the questions
of taste involved in this practice (especially the use of the Israeli national
anthem), this external connection becomes an entity in itself, which adds a
superfluous (possibly shallow and certainly manneristic) layer on top of the
original liturgy. Two cases illustrate this phenomenon. The first is the use of
the Israeli national anthem to accompany the passage "vahavi'enu leshalom
me'arba kanfot ha'arets ve'tolichenu komemiut le'artsenu" ("Oh gather us in
peace from the four corners of the earth, and restore us triumphantly to our
homeland.") The second is the singing of texts connected with Jerusalem to
the tune of Naomi Shemer's Yerushalayim Shel Zahav, a practice that may
in fact have originated in the cantorial schools where it is still, at times, sug-
gested to students as a viable choice (such as using this tune on the words
viliyrushalayim ircha berachamim tashuv ("Return in mercy to Jerusalem
your city"), or offering it in various points in the service on special events
such as Yom Yerushalayim.)

28 I consider this custom as similar to other affectations to which cantorial
performance has always been susceptible: hand gestures, body movement, facial
expressions, affected voice coloring, superfluous expressivity, exaggerated interpreta-
tion, and the like. All of these traits are manneristic in the sense that they constitute
an affectation that is not called for by the material, the text, or the situation, and stem
primarily from the performer's sense of show ("performance" in its negative con-
notation as discussed above.) Thus the noticeable move at designated junctures into
material borrowed from another repertoire, which as such, carries modern Israeli
connotations, superimposed on the material, recognized as such, and motivated by
the performer's sense of crude pseudo-sophistication, is yet another aspect of the
same manneristic stance. This is even more pronounced when in addition, the extra-
affectation of connecting the meaning of the text to the content of the borrowed tune
(Yerushalayim Shel Zahav or the Israeli national anthem) is superimposed.

29 This particular case begs the question whether Yoseph Hadar 's North Ameri-
can tour in the 1950s may have been at the root of this practice.

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The remarkable effect of the youth camps on congregational singing in the
US is so prevalently discussed that I choose not to address it here. The few
chosen reflections of this include the most used tune for Mechalkel Chayim
by Max Wohlberg (Wohlberg 1947:18). In private conversation Wohlberg
explained that indeed he had written this tune as an educational artifact for
the teaching of the prayer to children. In fact Wohlberg composed an alter-
native tune (Wohlberg 1971:29), which he considered more appropriate for
adults. Two other popular tunes that exemplify the perceived infantilization
of synagogue music in America are She-Hu Noteh Shamayim in the middle
oiAleinu and Vene'emar through- bayom hahu at the end of the section. In
Rothstein 1980:8 the author points out the connection between (among oth-
ers) the second phrase in the second tune and Farmer in the Dell. Interestingly,
Rothstein did not appear to note the obvious similarity of the first tune (She-
Hu Noteh Shamayim) with the preschool-level rhyme, Itsy Bitsy Spider.

A forthright criticism of the Conservative Ramah Camps' role in infantiliz-
ing the American synagogue music is also found in Spiro 1996. 1 would add
here that at times the musical practices in the youth camps do fall within
the traditional modal framework but they present a significantly simplified
version of it. One case in point is the version used for the Psalms of Kabbalat
Shabbat. In this particular case, as well as, perhaps, other such cases, the
"infantile" version seems justified - teaching this music in a manner more
accessible to children. The process in the American experience, however, is
reversed: instead of bringing a simplified rendition of the adult version from
the synagogue to the camp, the children's music from camp becomes the
standard practice at the synagogue.

Hassidic Influence

One particular aspect of American synagogue practice, which is expressed
in congregational singing is hassidic influence. By this, I do not mean the ob-
vious surface-effect of replacing various norms of performance with hassidic
or pseudo-hassidic tunes. Although the insertion of extra textless vocalises
within the liturgical text is also a Hassidic effect, it too constitutes only the
surface reflection of the phenomenon of creeping Hassidism. Two notable
examples of this practice include the vocalise before the Vidduy confessional
in the Selichot section of Yom Kippur services and the one inserted between
the lines of Birkat Kohanim when performed on the duchan (Bimah.) But in
addition to these surface effects, there is a deeper level of hassidic influence

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that I consider to be mostly subconscious, and certainly an un-conceptualized
undercurrent. This affecting force has to do with the basic philosophical stance
that derives from the discernable sense of freedom in regards to liturgical
structure and the hassidic perception of the prayer qualities of the niggun.

The role of niggun as a spiritual concept is central to the hassidic world-
view, starting with the fact that at the core of the hassidic faith is the belief
that all is equal before God and thus study or prayer are of equal importance
with song and dance. In addition, joy and ecstasy are central to the religious
experience and their attainment is to be regarded by an individual as religious
obligation. Initially expressed by the founder of Hassidism, Rabbi Israel Ba'al
Shem Tov (ca. 1700-1760), these ideas, especially pertaining to the role of
music, were perpetuated and developed by Rabbi Nachman of Bratzlav (1771-
1811). Rabbi Nachman considered niggun to be the most significant factor
and of paramount value in inducing ecstasy and a deep spiritual connection
with God and the universe. In his view niggun, relying on song and/or dance,
could replace prayer— including its textual component— and be considered
equal with or superior to prayer or any other formal structure of worship or
ritual. Obviously any such niggun is not bound by musical considerations of
tonality, motivic content, or form, and does not connect to a particular text.
Thus, if one were to take such freedom to mean that an original, personal tune
could be assigned the same value as the content (and even the very text) of
prayer, then a consideration of a lower priority such as the traditional musi-
cal structure for the prayer, as indicated by the modal framework would by
extension be rendered negligible.

It is nevertheless not unreasonable to assume that free use of niggunim as
a form of prayer may indeed function as a liturgical expression for authentic
Hassidim, that is, for people who truly dedicate themselves to hassidic prac-
tices as a religious path. Interestingly, however, it seems that more and more
American Jews unconsciously adopt hassidic philosophy and practice only
in the context of the liturgy and synagogue ritual. Needless to say, for those
individuals, such synagogue practices are far removed from their original or-
ganic function: to become part of an all encompassing lifestyle whose primary
goal is the achievement of spiritual ecstasy as a means to and an outcome of a
connection to God. Thus, these practices as reflected in the American trend
cannot really be considered a normal hassidic expression of prayer. They too
constitute a manneristic simulation of "pseudo-Hassidism" that falls into the
trap of the seductive illusionary reproduction of a hassidic experience for
about one hour a week in lieu of a liturgical experience. 30

30 I witnessed one of the more illuminating manifestations of this trend during

*

♦

Possible hassidic influence on American Jewry can be traced back to the
emigration of entire hassidic courts to America. 31 Also evident is the rapidly
growing number of communities and synagogues whose prayer services follow
the style, form, and musical practices of the late Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach,
following the model of the Carlebach Synagogue in New York City 32 Indeed
during the last decade or two this has become so prevalent and has established
itself as one of the most popular standards of prayer services to the extent
that I believe that "Carlebach services" are the predominant hallmark of the
post-modern American (and perhaps worldwide) synagogue. 33 This is par-
ticularly evident in the Carlebach Kabbalat Shabbat, in which the service is in
essence a reproduced exact replica of Carlebach's CD. 34 Thus the musical and
in fact the entire liturgical experience of this service can be rendered through
performing the CD in its entirety and order, by the congregation.

The Function of Norm of Performance in the Shaping of Liturgical Space:
the Friday Evening Services as a Case Study

As summed up earlier, norm of performance is a crucial component in
the modal framework for shaping the manner by which the liturgy unfolds

a workshop with cantorial students at The Jewish Theological Seminary, in which,
before delving into some tunes, the guest speaker instructed the students to imagine
themselves (and in the future, their congregations) to be, at least for that moment, a
community of Hassidim.

31 Shaul Magid of Indiana University mentioned to me the immigration of the
court of Modzitz to America and the tradition of composing niggunim in that court,
as well as the immigration of the Lubavitch community, which produced recordings
of their own niggunim.

32 According to Magid (personal communication) , Shlomo Carlebach himself
was close to the Rabbi of Modzitz whose niggunim he also disseminated.

33 SeveralyearsagoduringawalkinKfarSaba, Israel, I saw a notice on the wall
of the local B'ney Akiva branch announcing that a Kabbalat Shabbat benusach haRav
Carlebach ("a preliminary Friday night service in the style of Rabbi Carlebach") takes
place every two weeks. The note also included a reference to a special website link
dedicated to related Reb Shlomo information. A quick look at the link revealed over
a hundred locations around the world (but mostly in Israel and North America) in
which the Carlebach services in Carlebach communities are announced.

34 Shlomo Carlebach, Shabbos in Shomayim, Zale Newman and Steve Bill,
producers, Ontario: Jerusalem Star, 1995. The music in this CD covers Kabbalat
Shabbat and the Ma'ariv section before the Amidah (thus, it does not provide music
for the M'ein Sheva paragraphs.)

*

♦

during the synagogue service. Moreover, traditional use of the word "liturgy"
encompasses the entire experience as a whole. 35 Outside of some Jewish
circles, and especially in churches, this refers to the text, ritual, music, arti-
facts, the clergy's vestments and even the colors thereof. It is not unusual,
in fact, among practitioners in church to use the term in reference to music
alone. This kind of usage reflects a more common perception that the litur-
gical experience involves music inseparably from the text; moreover, music
is essential in order for the participant to, in some sense, incorporate the
liturgical experience. This phenomenon and the shape of the experience it
comprises for the individual is what I call "liturgical space."

Although much of the genesis and evolution of the Ashkenazi liturgical
music is practically unknown to us, it would seem reasonable to assume that
throughout the centuries it underwent a process of selection and refining that
has crystallized it into a formulation that is particularly effective in shaping
this liturgical space.

The larger issue here is how music affects our experiences, how we incor-
porate the information it provides into our perception and how we process
it. This realm of inquiry belongs in the areas of psychology of music, music
cognition, and interestingly enough, computer science, and artificial intel-
ligence. Substantial research and work has been and is being done in these
various fields. Needless to say, these realms are beyond the scope of our
discussion. Nonetheless, they concern the factors that shape our perceptions
of whether we "get" the music, find any meaning in it, differentiate between
good music and not so good within different musical styles, etc. / offer
that the factors involved in this process are the same ones that affect our
experience of liturgical music in creating a liturgical space. In general,
broad-brush strokes, the primary variables have to do with abstractions
such as sameness and difference, repetition and variety, timing, organic
development of the musical material, tension and release, directivity (the
perception that the music moves in a certain direction such as the feeling
we get in the standard tonal progressions in the classical and romantic

35 From the Greek leittourgia or the Latin liturgia, the original meaning of the

word is public service; in its English usage "liturgy" has always referred to all aspects

of the public worship service.

3 ° Indeed the expression that is used in church is "liturgical colors."

37 An interesting case-study that illustrates how Beethoven's fifth symphony

is structured to be processed, incorporated, and understood as making sense by our

brains is provided in Minsky 1981.

*

♦

styles), variety and directivity of the level of excitation,^ and the concur-
rence or lack thereof between the various musical variables (for example,
between dynamics and tempo, tonality and thematic material, phrasing and
chord progression, melisma or no melisma and both tempo and dynamics,
and many others). ^9

If we examine for example, how the entire Friday evening (including Kab-
balat Shabbat) liturgical space is shaped, we can observe how these factors are
integrated within the traditional modal framework, including the prescribed
norm of performance. Analytically speaking, the definition of the basic scheme
for this service may begin with its macro-structure, which, proceeds first
through three main liturgical sections. Divided thus, the service is initiated
by the Kabbalat Shabbat, followed by Bar'chu-Sh'ma uVirchoteha, and capped
by the cantor's repetition substitute (the four M'ein Sheva paragraphs). Ar-
ranged in this manner, the traditional musical complement for these main
divisions establishes a sense of three movements of sorts, in which each
liturgical section receives a mode: the mode Adonai Malach is assigned to
Kabbalat Shabbat; the specific motifs collection (in minor for the American,
Polish-Lithuanian version and major for the European version) are allocated
to Sh'ma uVirchoteha; and the mode Magen Avot accompanies the M'ein
Sheva paragraphs.

The norms of performance for this modular triptych, as it were, provide
further multi-dimensionality within the modes and Steigers. As in the mac-
rostructure (the three modal movements assigned to the three main liturgi-
cal sections), the array of musical factors and norms of performance at this
higher level of complexity above the simple base macrostructure is correlated
and co-occurs with certain liturgical units, but here one finds smaller, more
finely textured correspondences with the elements of the textual and ritual-
istic structure.

In addition, the norm of performance further shapes each of the three main
sections and the nature of their directivity 40 by prescribing, in a very well

38 Cohen, 1971b.

39 An example of how some of these factors come to play (in this case to create
a dramatic affect) can be observed in Shamgar 1980, see also Cohen 1999, Cohen and
Wagner 2000, and Eitan 1999.

40 The term directivity refers generally to how the manner in which the music
unfolds creates a sense of a forward motion in time or lack thereof and to what degree.
In the tonal music of the Western common practice, harmonic progression is a good
example of directivity.

*

♦

defined part of the section (which also translates into a timing regimen), one
cantorial fantasia and one congregational melody per each section. With the
other norms of performance in place, this sequencing not only creates variety
within the unity and a clear sense of direction, all in concurrence with the
liturgical text, it also creates three arches in the level of excitation, 41 each one
concurrent with one of the three primary liturgical sections and each one hav-
ing a peak that predictably occurs during the last third of the section, usually
closer to its ending. When performed properly, this aggregate of movement,
ordering and climax impose a focal center of gravity by which the contours
of the rest of the liturgical material of the section may be recognized.

The concept of liturgical space also sheds a new light on the function of the
Kaddish. So far as the excitation level is concerned, the final Kaddish after
mekadesh hashabbat marks a notable drop in the level of excitation, hence,
a significant release of the tension accumulated by the cantorial fantasia that
precedes it. To that end, the other Kaddishim in this service, and in fact, all
Kaddishim, to one degree or another, (depending on their perspective norms
of performance) exhibit the same trait. 42 This, therefore, points to another
aspect of the relationship between liturgical text and function (Kaddish) and
the norm of performance (semi-spoken declamation), which in turn may
suggest that beyond the textual function of the Kaddish as a sealer of a litur-
gical section, it also serves as a release and a calming down of sorts within
the liturgical space. This is yet another expression of the liturgical space as
the total sum of text, textual structure, ritual, meaning, and music. As such it
introduces the idea that the course of evolution of the liturgy has likely been
shaped by considerations that stem from all of these facets.

41 I am using the term level of excitation here in its musicological sense. That is,
although introducing some elements of psychology of music and music cognition, the
term here refers to a musical quality and not necessarily (although possibly related)
to a human reaction. For some demonstration of this concept and related discussion
see Cohen 1971b and 1999.

42 This is most notable in the case of Kaddish Shalem (which is not occasion/
ritual/time sensitive and only affected by weekday vs. holy day variables, and takes on
a semi-spoken declamation.) Chatsi Kaddish at times may serve this sense of release
to a lesser degree, as well as mark a preparatory low-medium level of excitation at
the beginning of a section or before the silent Amidah.

*

♦

In summary, the interrelationship in these services can be portrayed in
the following table: 43

Primary unit

Sub-unit

Mode/Steiger/
tonalitv

Norm of performance

KABBALAT
SHABBAT

intro-
ductory
psalms

Adonai
Ma lack

cantor's framing com-
bined with silence,
whispering, mumbling,
or heterophonic chant-
mumbling

Lecha
Dodi

Adonai
Malach/major

metrical congregational
singing (sometimes
responsive metrical
congregational singing)

final two
psalms

Adonai
Malach/ major
or minor

cantor's framing for the
first psalm and canto-
rial fantasia for the
second.^

43 In order to concentrate on the role of the norm of performance, this descrip-
tion hovers around the middle-ground level of interrelationships. Specifically, on
the liturgical and textual level it does not get into the level of specific words or even
phrases, but remains more or less on the paragraph level. In musical terms it remains
on the mode, scale, tonality or Steiger level, and does not get into the details of musical
form, phrases, motifs, individual musical characteristics, or even secondary changes
in tonality (such as the minority variant of singing two selected verses in Lecha Dodi
in minor, or the various tonal options in the last two psalms of Kabbalat Shabbat.)

44 I realize that for all intents and purposes the cantorial fantasia for this psalm
is all but obsolete. Nevertheless, it is important to recognize that traditionally this
would be a likely unit to take on this norm of performance. See also footnote 10.

*

♦

^

SH'MA
UVIRCHOTEHA

Bar'chu
until ga'al
yisrael

Friday Night
mode (desig-
nated motifs
in minor or
major depend-
ing on sub-
tradition)

cantor's framing,
combined with silence,
whispering, mumbling
or heterophonic chant-
mumbling, and b'rachot
responsorials.

Hashkive-
nu

minor/Ahavah
Rabbah, some
tonal variants

cantorial fantasia

Veshamru

minor or
major (free,
at times some
foreshadowing
of Magen Avot

congregational melody

Chatsi
Kaddish

minor (desig-
nated Friday
Night ver-
sion.)^

cantorial recitation and
responsorials.

CANTOR'S

REPETITION

SUBSTITUTE

Vaychulu

Magen Avot

cantorial recitation

B'racha

Magen Avot

cantorial recitation and
b'rachot responsorial

Magen

Magen Avot

congregational melody

Retseh

ViMnucha-

tenu

Magen Avot

cantorial fantasia

Kaddish
Shalem

major

semi-spoken declama-
tion

In relation to the appropriate and timely shaping of the liturgical space, it
can be observed in the American practice discussed above, that the afore-
mentioned replacement of various aspects of the norms of performance with

45 This is not simply free minor tonality but a chant pattern in minor that is
designated specifically for this Chatsi Kaddish. This is primarily a reflection of the
fact that within the modal framework the Chatsi Kaddish is time/occasion/calendar
sensitive.

*

♦

metrical congregational singing, and with different modal and tonal changes
in the standard modern American version (pre-Carlebach), three primary
effects result: flattening, discombobulation, and loss of directivity.

The flattening is a reflection of the loss of the multi-dimensional design
originally provided by the interplay among the various norms of performance
which have now been replaced with congregational singing. The discombobu-
lation occurs because in the modern American version there is no particular
scheme to the norms of performance, and also because the congregational
tunes bring with them a random variety of tonalities and perhaps modes
(usually without particular motivic content), thereby introducing a sig-
nificant random element that diminishes or cancels the built-in concordant
coordination among the liturgical units, the musical factors, and the norms
of performance. 46 We note that discombobulation also results in flattening
because at some point too many random ingredients with no particular design
result in a perception of lack of distinctness of articulation and therefore as
one monochrome mass. The loss of directivity results from the preempting
of the flow of the cyclical wave-like motion directivity, and loss of the three
arch forms at the excitation level.

Grant that the foregoing arguments and justification for a cogent modal
structure with appropriate norms of performance for the Friday Night ser-
vice are properly motivated by an adequate theoretical foundation based on
a correct assessment of musical forms, preferred current cantorial conduct
and congregational practice, all within the delimited liturgical space of the
service. Thus without the cogency and appropriateness of the shapes avail-
able within that space being afforded through the (now missing) concordance
among those structures and norms, the result is a significant rupture in the
liturgical space.

4 " This is primarily the result of inserting or introducing: either Ahavah Rabbah
or minor elements when unprescribed during Kabbalat Shabbat; different motivic
material in the congregational singing of Ahavat Olam during Sh'ma uVirchoteha; a
major tonality and cantillation motifs in the communal chanting of the entire paragraph
beginning with Ve'ahavta; at least a cadence (if not more elements) in an Ahavah Rab-
bah at the end of Mi Chamocha; a major in the second paragraph after the Amidah

(Baruch ata Adonai koneh shamayim va'arets); and Ahavah Rabbah in the fourth

paragraph (Retseh). The latter is especially jarring, if not dissonant because not only it
misplaced norm of performance (flattening), an incorrect Steiger (discombobulat-
;) but also it takes something that does belong in the modal framework but rather is
nterconnectedwith a different time and ritual (cantor's repetition, Saturday morning),
thus foisting further dissonance upon the time/ritual sensitivity of the modal frame-
work.

*

♦

The post-modern practice of following Carlebach's CD as the formula for
Kabbalat Shabbat and the sections of the Friday night service for which it
provides music (in these settings the missing parts revert to the pre-Carlebach
modern American version) is a further ruptured version of the pre-Carlebach
modern American service. 47 But unlike the pre-Carlebach practice, in which,
although severely ruptured, traces of the liturgical space can still be noticed,
here the quantity of rupture creates a qualitative difference and results in a
complete disintegration of the liturgical space. 48

The clear advantage of music as the predominant factor for shaping the
liturgical space is its ability to be communicated directly to that part of our
perception that does not require thoughts or the conceptualization of sound
on a symbolic level. Music's impact on human emotions and its power to
induce a sense of atmosphere or evoke sensation are common knowledge,

47 The main factors are the complete flattening that results from using only one
norm of performance (congregational singing, almost all of which is metrical tunes),
thus nullifying the structure provided by the level of excitation, and the ultimate
discombobulation that comes with the flood of many different and random thematic,
motivic, and rhythmic materials, and several modes and tonalities (but primarily
either free major or minor, and also Ahavah Rabbah, Ukrainian Dorian and a sort
of Aeolian.) Additional aspects of this disintegration is the heavily extensive use of
textless vocalises (using filler syllables such as yah yaiyai, hai-dai-dai, oy-yoy-yoy and
the like) before and after almost each section (some of which consist only of two text
sentences), or even adding independent, unrelated niggunim, as well as breaking the
textual phrases by the insertions of such syllables or breaking certain words by repeating
their constituent syllables in order to use them as filler syllables. In addition, because
almost all of the material is metric, tempo becomes a more affecting factor unlike in
the traditional version. As such, tempo would be crucial in the shaping of some kind
of structure or directivity, but the music in the Carlebach service in essence, consists
of only two types of tempo: moderate slow, and "up," primarily the latter.

48 This does not mean that the Carlebach service cannot be enjoyable, inspiring,
uplifting, and even super-spiritual, which is probably one of the components of its se-
ductive allure. It does mean, however, that as such, it does not constitute the liturgy as it
is designed to be experienced. Furthermore, because text is only one variable of liturgy,
and because music is such a dominant and inseparable variable, the disintegration of
the musical structure in essence, renders this kind of service an apostasizing from the
liturgy itself. The reasons that such poorly integrative services seem nonetheless to
gain increasing popularity and help draw people that otherwise perhaps would stay
away from the synagogue, are not reasons essentially different from those motivations
that engendered the formation of the pre-Carlebach American version as discussed
above.

*

♦

as well as a well researched phenomenon. Yet music's ability to by-pass our
cerebral process and deliver a message directly to our sensory-experiential
realm (perhaps our limbic brain) is also a remarkable tool in transmit-
ting, internalizing, and integrating liturgical structure, content, and even
meaning in the same manner. Thus even if participants in a service have no
conscious awareness of these aspects of the liturgy, a well-structured litur-
gical space is effective in delivering these contributions directly into their
human experience. Thus music, in the form of congregational singing, in its
original function within the modal framework, plays a significant role, along
with the other norms of performance and all other components of the modal
framework, in inducing a specific and unique flavor of spirituality. It is this
particular species of spirituality which is at the root of how Jewish people - at
least those of Ashkenazi origins -consummate their experience of evocative
and resonant prayer.

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+

*

♦

Denominational Articles

Congregational Singing in Chasidic Congregations

by Sam Weiss

Considering the extent to which neginah pervades the lives of Chasidim, one
would think that congregational singing is commonplace in their worship
services. And this is indeed the case — but only if one defines congregational
singing so broadly as to comprise all manner of resounding, spirited, and
nusach-nlled liturgical chanting emanating from the pews. Defined conven-
tionally, however, as a group singing a uniform prayer-text in unison, congre-
gational singing is rarely heard in the typical chasidic minyan — whether in a
small shtibl or in a large synagogue. While the musical culture of Chasidism
has shaped congregational singing in synagogues all over the globe, Chasidim
themselves rarely sing the equivalent of a V'Taheir Libeinu or a Yism'chu in
the course of a Sabbath service.

This paradox is not as strange as it might seem at first blush. A primary
function of unison synagogue song is to promote active involvement on the
part of an otherwise passive congregation. Since the Chasid typically engages
the act of divine worship in high gear, fully focused on the meaning of the
prayers and carried along by the force of their nusach, this function is largely
unnecessary. Congregational singing, in such a context, could even become
counter-productive, impeding the natural flow of davening. Consequently,
texts like V'Taheir Libeinu or Yism'chu might figure prominently among the
hundreds of para-liturgical songs in the Chasid's musical repertoire, but they
are not accorded any special treatment in the service proper.

Another function of congregational singing is to accentuate a particular
text and highlight it within the surrounding nusach chant through the novelty
of rhythm, tempo change, or other ingratiating musical characteristics. The
effect of such musical stimulation, however, is not as striking for chasidic
congregants, who live and breathe music every day of the year in a variety of
sacred and secular contexts. Indeed, there is ample opportunity for communal
religious song on a Sabbath or Festival, but only outside the prayer service per
se — inasmuch as congregational singing in unison or close harmony charac-
terizes the zemirot and nigunim sung at home meals, at S'udah Sh'lishit, and
at the Rebbe's Friday night or M'laveh Malkah table. True, musical inspiration
also abounds at Shacharit, Mincha and Ma'ariv; in a typical chasidic minyan,

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nevertheless, it is the fervor of fulfilling the Mitzvah of prayer that drives the
musical inspiration, and not vice versa.

Having twice made mention of the "typical chasidic minyan," we should
hasten to add that there really is no such thing. Chasidic congregations are
probably the most heterogeneous of all the groups covered in this symposium.
Despite their unvarying black garb, Chasidim have a multiplicity of customs
and prayer styles that each sect treasures as hallmarks of its identity. We will
note some of these variations even as we delineate the characteristics com-
mon to the bulk of chasidic congregational singing.

Perhaps the most important feature that distinguishes general chasidic
singing from the singing that takes place during a prayer service is that the
latter is almost always without actual words. That is, whenever a ba'al-t'fillah 1
sets a particular prayer or piyyut to a congregational melody, he alone sings
the text; the other worshipers experience the words vicariously, by support-
ing his melody with vocables or hummed tones. This kind of congregational
accompaniment typically drowns out the voice of the ba'al t'fillah, with the
result that his lone singing of the prayer-text functions as a kind of semantic
accompaniment to the lusty wordless singing of the congregation. Alterna-
tively, one might conceive of the ba'al-t'fillah's role in this context as that of a
conductor who cues the entrance of his chorus by singing the first few notes
of their part. The chorus here is the entire congregation, which performs
the song quasi-instrumentally The words — in plain sight on the page of the
Siddur, and usually even memorized — inspire the singing, but they remain
unsung.

On a theoretical level, these congregational songs without words are in line
with the fundamental chasidic approach to singing, in which the melody of
a nigun is at least as important as the words that carry it. On a more practi-
cal level, however, this approach to congregational singing is dictated by the
halachic proscriptions against hafsakah, or interruption of the statutory
prayer texts by unnecessary repetition of the words. Thus ahazzan's extended
melodic fantasia on the passage in the Shacharit Kedushah - Mimkomcha,
Malkeinu — supported by congregational obbligati on yam-bam and ai-dai
(a favorite among Hungarian and Galician hasidim), is perceived as a valu-
able and desirable intensification of kavvanah, while a single word in that
passage sung by a congregant would constitute an unwelcome intrusion into
the prayer ritual. (Example 1)

1 The terms ba'al-t'fillah and hazzan are used interchangeably in this article to
denote the lay prayer-leader in chasidic congregations.

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Example 1. Mimkomcha Malkeinu

The kind of wordless congregational singing described above is heard most
typically in the Friday night prayer L'chah Dodi, and in its Saturday morning
counterpart Eil Adon. These two piyyutim are performed in the following
pizmon format: The hazzan starts to sing. In a matter of seconds the alert
congregation "names that tune" and joins in the nigun. As he reaches the end
of the first verse, the hazzan pauses. The congregation then recites aloud the
first verse, plus the second verse. The hazzan continues from where he had
paused, and sings the second verse, again accompanied wordlessly by the
congregation. At the end of the second verse he pauses for the congregation
to recite the third verse, and this pattern continues for the rest of the prayer;
i.e. he sings the verse which the congregation has just recited.

Chasidic performance style of piyyutim (and of many zemirot as well)
normally does not distinguish between "verses" and "refrains." Thus the
opening line L'chah dodi likratkallah, p'nei shabbat n'kab'lah, repeated twice,
functions musically as one verse, and each subsequent singing or recitation of

Moderato

Example 2. Ec\ ;;. This chasidic nigun was also adapted to the

Israeli folksong "Rad Halailah'.'

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that recurring line (what we normally would call a refrain) is simply absorbed
into the preceding verse. In most melodic settings, this requires the hazzan
to pad that single line with filler vocables so that the metrical symmetry of
the tune remains intact (Example 2).

Not all sects follow this musical convention for these two piyyutim. Many
Ukrainian and Lithuanian chasidic dynasties (Ruzhiner, Boyaner, Slonimer,
etc.) do not sing them at all, but instead recite the verses of L'chah Dodi and
Eil Adon responsively with the ba'al-t'fillah. The Karlin-Stoliner don't even go
that far, treating L'chah Dodi like a regular prayer: The hazzan recites only the
first and last verses in the prevailing Kabbalat Shabbat nusach. In the last few
decades some of these dynasties (e.g. Skverer and Lubavitcher) have adapted
their services to the prevalent minhag of singing these piyyutim, even though
their historical minhag was not to sing them. In the Bratslaver shtiblech we
find a variation on the L'chah Dodi theme that is a bravura display of musi-
cal imagination and kavvanah: hazzan and congregation recite one verse at
a time, then both hazzan and congregation sing a nigun to this verse, with
nobody singing the words.

Practically all chasidic congregations that sing L'chah Dodi divide the
verses into two musical sections, switching melodies at the sixth strophe, Lo
Teivoshi. The melodies that are used for the first five strophes tend to be more
sedate than the ones used for the last four. In addition, the second melody is
usually also in a new meter, so the change in mood is rather striking. Several
homiletical explanations have been advanced to account for this custom of
shifting melodies, but the most plausible explanation seems to be simply the
desire for musical variety. Details of this practice are not uniform over the
entire chasidic landscape: The Bratslaver and the Vizhnitzer, for example,
switch to the new tune at the seventh strophe rather than the sixth, while
Polish and Galician Chasidim (Gerer, Bobover, Modzitzer, etc.) tend to choose
lively melodies for both sections.

The six strophes of the Shabbat morning hymn Eil Adon are always sung
to a single melody in the pizmon format described earlier. The exceptional
chasidic groups, who do not sing piyyutim at all, recite these verses respon-
sively. Virtually all chasidic congregations also recite responsively the nine 2
sentences of HakolYoducha, the piyyut that immediately precedes Eil Adon.
None of the other commonly sung Shabbat prayers — including the fixed-
meter piyyutim such as Adon Olam and Yigdal — is generally accorded any
special melodic treatment in chasidic congregations.

2 Nusach Ashkenaz has only eight sentences in Hakol Yoducha.

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Congregational singing plays a greater role, however, on Festivals (the Hallel
Psalms, the piyyutim Yah Eili, Tal, Geshem, etc.) and the High Holidays (Zo-
chreinu L'chayim, M'chalkeil Chayim, Areshet S'fateinu, Ein Kitzvah, Heyeih
Im Pifiyot, Ha-yom T'amtzeinu, Ki Hinei Kachomer, etc.). Newly composed
nigunim often get their inaugural hearings at these special prayers. V'ye'tayu
Kol L'ovdecha, for example, is a favorite High Holiday piyyut for presenting
premieres of extended chasidic marches. Most of these holiday prayers and
piyyutim, moreover, are characterized by much more congregational singing
of the actual words, owing to their contexts in the chazarat hasha"tz or in
other points of the service where the restrictions oihafsakah do not apply.

The preeminent occasion for chasidic congregational singing is, without a
doubt, Simchat Torah. Not only is there singing during the prolonged hakafot,
and dancing to all manner of nigunim with and without texts, but responsive
chanting abounds in Atah Hor'eita, Sisu V'simchu, and the piyyutim that
are inserted into the Hakafot (e.g. Ha-Aderet V'ha-Emunah, Mi-Pi Eil). An
interesting custom in the Torah Reading for Chatan B'reishit is the singing
of a joyous nigun as a prelude to each of the six congregational responses to
the phrase, vai'hi erev vai'hi voker, yom... "(Example 3).

Allegretto

Vay'hi erev vay'hi
voker yom sheini.

Example 3. Typical Nigun introducing congregational responses in Chatan

B'reishit reading.

Chasidic congregational dancing is not confined to Simchat Torah. The

Bratslaver Chasidim, for example, conclude every Kabbalat Shabbat service

with a suite of traditional dances. Some Bratslaver congregations perform the

dances between Kabbalat Shabbat and Ma'ariv, while others wait until the end

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of services. The Karliner have a traditional nigun and dance that is performed
every day, exclusively during the seven weeks of S'firat Ha'Omer.

As suggested at the beginning of this survey, a proper appreciation of
the congregation's participation in chasidic worship requires a more com-
prehensive understanding of the term: congregational singing. Needless to
say, all of the statutory responses in prayers like Bar'chu, Kaddish, K'dushah,
etc. are taken up by chasidic worshipers with all the gusto they can muster.
Similarly, the entire annual cycle of Mi-Sinai melodies are familiar to chasidic
congregants young and old, who chant them along with the ba'al-t'fillah. In
our examination of the various practices regarding L'chah Dodi, we contrasted
congregations that sing the verses to those who recite them responsively Yet,
since such responsive reciting is actually responsive chanting aloud in the
prevailing nusach, this choreographed swell of voices falls squarely under
the functional heading of congregational singing no less than any Sulzerian
hazzan-congregation call-and-response does. Viewed in this light, chasidic
congregations are indeed paragons of congregational singing.

Sam Weiss is a recitalist, lecturer and Jewish music consultant with expertise in
the fields of liturgical, Yiddish, and chasidic song. He is hazzan at the Jewish Center
of Paramus, New Jersey.

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Impressions of Congregational Singing
in an Orthodox Service

byjudah Leon Magnes

The service is the supposedly genuine-brand Ashkenazi Orthodox product
without any foreign admixture contrary to law. I have seen Orthodox ser-
vices before, but never one in which I took so much interest and felt so much
pride. It was as noisy as any Orthodox service. The worshipers were of the
same stripe that compose other Orthodox congregations. It was I who was
different, who saw it all with different eyes.

What is it that this service consists of? How many different elements com-
pose it when it is as naive and natural as this was! There were the worshiper
memories of childhood, of training at home. There was the repetition of
prayers learned years ago and mumbled as fast as possible. There was the
interest in the reading of the Scroll (of the Pentateuch); the love of literature
as manifested in the reading of the lesson from the Prophets, the vanity of the
Reader [hazzan] and his trills and roulades; the delight of singing out of tune
and making your voice last the longest in the congregational singing.

There was the social converse, the passing of the snuff box, the "shhhh"
of the Beadle [shamash] to people who were talking, whereupon he himself
engages in louder conversation with the crowd of his friends. It was a service
of all morning; for those in it, the event of the week.

It is a combination of mysterious feeling which is expressed in the mum-
bling away of the prayers that are not understood. For these people they ought
not to be understood. Prayers are made simply to allow them to express in
words — in voice — that feeling called religious which is within them.

Such a service a modern man cannot duplicate. The moderns have divided
things into different spheres. Here is the place for literature, here for social
converse, there for the expression of mystery, in another place for hearing
song. But in this Orthodox service everything is blended. . . the reason that it is
good is that it is naive. As soon as Orthodoxy becomes a matter of Academic
consistency, it is lost.

Getting out into the world again, one feels as though he had been trans-
planted into another land. The memories of that Schul linger, and it is some-
how with great reluctance that one realizes that, after all, the world without
is so different. And when you see three Jews ahead of you, the one shambling
along with heels at a right angle, the other dirty and rheumy-eyed, the third
looking at you as though you wouldn't believe him under oath, you realize

102

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again that in the synagogue you don't notice his feet and eyes and face, but
only his praying shawl and fervent responses and active participation in the
service, that this Jew is a man worthy of respect and admiration.

Editor's Note: After four Orthodox cantors declined the Journal's invitation to submit
a symposium entry on congregational singing in their movement's synagogues, we
turned to a young Reform rabbinical student's report to his parents in San Francisco
of his visit to a small Orthodox synagogue in Berlin, 1901. Judah Leon Magnes'
impressions, as valid today as they were then, are reprinted with permission of The
Jewish Publication Society, publisher ofForZion's Sake, by Norman Bentwich, ©
1954. Rabbi Magnes (1877-1948) served as assistant rabbi at New York's Temple
Emanu-El, as president of the Kehillah in New York and as founding chancellor
and first president of the Hebrew University in Jerusalem.

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Congregational Singing and Congregational Silence
When Eastern and Western Sephardim Attend
the Same Service

by Joseph A. Levine

Synagogue ritual of the Sephardim in Colonial America featured a slow, me-
ticulously rendered cantorial chant, according to historian Peter Wiernik. And
in that carefully measured rendition lay the seeds of the Western Sephardic
rite's ultimate decline in this country, for it allowed no break in the relentless
monotony of three-and-a-half hour Sabbath services. A sephardic- style min-
yan on weekday mornings and evenings continues to remain problematical
for the same reason.

The founding Sephardic community — descended from poets, philoso-
phers, physicians and judges — was in fact on the verge of disappearing
through intermarriage and assimilation when others arrived whose forebears
had lived quietly in Eastern Mediterranean lands until the present century.
There the Eastern Sephardim had observed their cherished religion with a
certain fervency and superstition that is endemic to that part of the world.
They began to emigrate here from Greece and Turkey in the early 1900s, and
could not believe what they saw.

The reports they sent home, aglow with descriptions of Jewish prosperity in
the New World, led many more to emigrate from the Ottoman Empire. They
in turn would eventually be augmented tenfold by their still darker-skinned
and more primitive-appearing cousins from the Levant, Balkans and North
Africa, spurred by the Turkish Revolution following World War I. They all
gravitated toward the stately Spanish/Portuguese synagogues built during the
previous century in North America, but not to the point of overwhelming
them, as has occurred elsewhere.

Beginning in the 1960s, for example, a quarter-million Sephardim from
Morocco, Tunis, Algeria and Egypt inundated the 180,000 Jews who remained
in France after the Holocaust. Worship, until then Ashkenazic in a grandly op-
eratic style, could not cope. The result today is a strange bird neither airborne
nor edible. Futilely striving to satisfy both traditions at once, a hazzan leading
services in the ornate neo-Romanesque edifice on Paris' Rue de la Victoire
emits a cacophany that would feel more at home in the Casbah of Tangier.
Unlike Central European Ashkenazic Jews in 19th-century America, who
backed off to organize their own preferred type of service when confronted

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with Amsterdam/ London ritual, 20th-century North African Sephardim have
simply taken over existent Ashkenazic houses of worship in France.

The North Africans were accustomed to a highly informal manner of
praying. In Morocco or Tunisia the synagogue had often consisted of a
single room tacked onto the home of a wealthy individual. Functionaries
subsisted on honors auctions held during the t'fillah, and decorum waned
in direct proportion to the length of proceedings. Worship often gave the
impression of being an adjunct activity to greeting friends and enjoying a
good laugh. It is easy to see why that type of prayer appears as misplaced
in Paris' Rothschild Synagogue as chasidic daven'n would be in New York's
Reform Temple Emanuel.

Sephardic worship as practiced in North Africa and the Levant is equally
far removed from the stately minhag that first arrived in the New World via
Portuguese-descended Dutch refugees. For 350 years, if a non-Sephardi vied
for the position of minister in any of the Spanish/Portuguese synagogues — as
did Westphalian-born scholar Isaac Leeser (later to become American Jewry's
first national leader) at Philadelphia's Mikveh Israel in 1829 — he first had to
demonstrate a mastery of the proudly unchanging Western Sephardic rite.
Mikveh Israel's present order of service does not deviate appreciably from that
established by Gershom Mendes Seixas, the "patriot rabbi" who fled from New
York in the 1770s. (Seixas earned the sobriquet while still a chazan-minister
at New York's Congregation Shearith Israel, by removing the plaque that bore
a perpetual blessing for the welfare of Britain's King George III).

Even today, Sephardim of Eastern derivation who join established Western
Sephardic synagogues in North America must adjust to the prevailing practice.
It is much less animated than they would prefer; Sephardic hazzanim trained
in London - current seat of the World Sephardi Federation — are reserved
almost to the level of inertia, and their stoic self-containment is contagious.
Only in the unlikely event that one of their own is asked to lead prayer do
Eastern Sephardim show signs of life at a Spanish/Portuguese service. On
one such occasion when I had the good fortune to be present, the father of a
Bar Mitzvah celebrant invited Moroccan-born Hazzan Jo Amar to officiate
in Philadelphia's Mikveh Israel. The family had emigrated from Iraq in the
late 1970s, and of necessity joined the only Sephardic congregation in the
area. After nearly two decades they were celebrating the last child's religious
coming-of-age, to which several hundred guests had flown in from all over
Europe and Israel.

The visitors' spoken Hebrew was impeccable, unlike their demeanor in
synagogue. Some of the men at first refused to wear prayer shawls, but when

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persuaded by the parnas (lay sexton), they sullenly flipped the silken tallit
over their head upside-down and inside-out. A few of the women carried
shopping bags full of hard candies into the sanctuary. But instead of lobbing
the wrapped sweets gently for children to retrieve, they fired them like mus-
ket shot at everyone called to the Torah. When requested to desist until all
honorees had descended from the ballustrated teivah from which the Torah
was read, the ladies promptly redoubled their salvo.

Hazzan Amar chanted the Shacharit and Musaf sections as he customarily
does, from the heart and with a magnificent native musicality, the Easterners
joining in loudly and clearly. Mikveh Israel regulars seemed to appreciate this
generous display of vocal fervor but politely demurred at every cue that was
not exactly in sync with their own unvarying custom. They finally came alive
during the Torah recessional, conducted by the minister of Mikveh Israel,
Albert E. Gabbai, an ordained rabbi who also serves as hazzan. Then it was the
guests' turn to maintain silence and gape as the Torah bearer, minister, parnas
and trustees filed toward the heichal (Ark) at an incredibly deliberate rate of
one half-step every five seconds. The accompanying hymn - Havu L'Adonai
(Psalm 29; Example 1) — perfectly matched this slow-motion advance in its
languid tempo, while giving the home team a chance to demonstrate some
of the exquisite forbearance that characterizes Spanish/ Portuguese t'fillah.
Compared to Ashkenazic — or even Eastern Sephardic — worship it appears
so maddeningly cautious that Hanoch Avenary felt compelled to issue the
following caveat about it:

Traditional Amsterdam-Sephardic song as it is intoned... today makes a deep
but somewhat strange impression on the listener. One is tempted to say that
it is Oriental music misunderstood ... and nevertheless performed in a naive
faithfulness.

Yet Sephardic Psalm recitation is extremely effective, especially when
an utterance such as va'anachnu nevarech yah, "we bless the Lord" (Psalm
1 15:18), is immediately converted into the act it described: hallelujah, "praise
the Lord!" Sephardic group-singing's performance style at times resembles
loosely measured chant, which allows worshippers the split second needed to
make a connection between word and deed. Its lack of regorously measured
rhythm transposes it into a timeless, otherwordly dimension where syllables
seem to float semi-detached from the words they form. At other times, during
passages clearly defined by an imposed meter, the deliberate rate of enuncia-
tion is so tightly controlled that listeners experience the same net effect: they
feel themselves disembodied, an aggregation of minute particles and waves
churning through the quantum foam that comprises our universe.

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♦

Havu L'Adonai (Ps. 29)

Is Sung at Mikveh Israel,
'hiladelphia, Since 1740

ung by Rev. Albert Gabba.

inscribed by Joseph Levine

April 2004

Example 1. Psalm 2 t; .

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- do - nai ye - va- reich_ et nga- mo va - sha - lom.

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Bibliography

Avenary, Hanoch. "Music: Consolidation of the Oriental Style of Jewish Music,"
Encyclopedia Judaica Vol. 12 (Jerusalem: Keter, 1972).

Birmingham, Stephen. The Grandees (New York: Harper & Row, 1971).

Dobrinsky, Herbert . A Treasury of Sephardic Laws and Customs (New York: Ktav,
1988).

Havu L'Adonai. Spanish/Portuguese tradition at Congregation Mikveh Israel, Phila-
delphia since 1740; unpublished transcription of rendition by Albert E. Gabbai,
Rabbi/Hazzan at Mikveh Israel, April 2004.

Levine, Joseph A. Rise and Be Seated: The Ups and Downs of Jewish Worship (North-
vale, NJ: Jason Aronson, 2001).

Luri, Aviva. "The Tunisian Djigan," Ha'aretz, December 3, 1999.

Musleah, Rachel. "The Sephardic Renaissance," Hadassah" November, 1999.

Stern, Malcolm H. Americans of Jewish Descent (New York: Ktav, 1960).

Wiernik, Peter. History of the Jews in America (New York: Jewish History Publising
Company, 1931).

This eyewitness report is adapted from "A State of Mind',' the chapter on Sephardic
practice in Rise and Be Seated: The Ups and Downs of Jewish Worship, by Jo-
seph A. Levine, editor of the Journal of Synagogue Music. For this article he also
transcribed the music of Havu L'Adonai as customarily sung by Reverend Albert
E. Gabbai, the rabbi and hazzan of Congregation Mikveh Israel in Philadelphia.

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Tunes of Engagement: Using Congregational Melodies
to Combat Alienation in Conservative Worship

by Neil Schwartz

It's no secret to any hazzan working in a Conservative synagogue that many
congregants appear to be alienated from the traditional Jewish worship expe-
rience. Conservative hazzanim may wonder whether anything that they do
— any introduction of livelier melodies for worshipers to sing — will make
the slightest dent in this disaffection.

The premise of this article is that an astute use of congregational tunes at
the right liturgical moments can make all the difference for some congregants
between confusion and therefore boredom on the one hand and understand-
ing and therefore engagement on the other hand.

A team effort between rabbis and hazzanim is needed to tackle this crucial
issue in the future of our Movement. Conservative Judaism has already lost
many members during the last few decades. Many synagogues find their
seats filled only with "regulars" or B'nei Mitzvah guests, as opposed to those
congregants who pay dues but who are not comfortable attending our services
more than one or twice a year.

The great flagship synagogues are beginning to find some of their mem-
bers departing for smaller, more intimate minyanim where participants lead
the services on a rotating basis. When the leadership of these minyanim or
havurot is asked, "Why?" the unsettling answer is this: "We would rather
chant everything ourselves, even if it is not perfect, because we like being
involved."

We cannot force a worshiping group - large or small — to engage a haz-
zan, and neither can the United Synagogue. However, in the positions we
retain we can do our best to stem the alienation which leads either to non-at-
tendance on the one hand, or to member transfers to synagogues or havurot
without hazzanim on the other hand. We must daven with our congregants,
not for them, or we may lose them.

I believe this — in a nutshell — is what is meant when recent Jewish
Prayer Commissions issue calls for "empowering the people."

What types of melodies might best implement this goal?

I am going to postulate that for the average congregant, the entire concept of
"nusach" is almost irrelevant. Notice that I refer to the average congregant,

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not the maven. Most of us hazzanim use Adult Education, Bulletin articles
and school classrooms to share the concepts behind the wonderfully complex
systems of interrelated prayer modes which define our chanting. Given the
larger issues of discomfort with the Hebrew language and with the structure
and the theology of our liturgy, the proper use of nusach is off the radar screen
for most of our congregants.

When most of us teach nusach, we explain its usefulness for defining the
liturgical occasions, the sections of the services, and the moods of the texts.
However, the best indication that few non-maven congregants really care
about this is the proliferation of Lewandowski's Chatsi Kaddish (Example
1). For decades JTS graduates and other hazzanim have been taught separate
melodies for the Chatsi Kaddish of different services, but in many synagogues
there are few congregants who want to hear those other versions.

I am convinced that the reason Lewandowski's Chatsi Kaddish is so widely
used is simply the congregational melody which it includes. Most congre-
gants like to sing whenever and wherever they can, and by and large they are
not concerned if this Kaddish melody is the "proper" one for any particular
liturgical occasion, nor whether or not it fits the mood of a particular section
of the worship service.

Lewandowski's melody became instantly popular among the hazzanim
of Europe, who brought it to America. How did this melody spread so per-
vasively throughout American synagogues during the 20th century?

We can thank the Goldfarb brothers - Rabbi Israel and Dr. Samuel
- for the popularity of Lewandowski's Friday evening Kiddush," because they
reprinted it (without attribution) in their popular Sabbath Eve songbook. 3
However, we cannot credit the Goldfarb Brothers for the spread of Lewan-
dowski's Chatsi Kaddish, because they had composed a melody of their own
for the same text. 4 One possible missing link between the congregational
melody's first appearance in Lewandowski's Kol Rinnah and its later popu-
larity in America could be its citation shortly afterward in Abraham Baer's
authoritative nusach compendium, Baal T'Fillah, as the recurring refrain kein
anachnu b'yodcha ("so are we in Your hand") in the Yom Kippur penitential

1 Louis Lewandowski. Kol Rinnah U'T'fillah (Berlin: self-published, 1871), p. 19.

2 Ibid., p. 21.

Israel and Samuel Goldfarb. Friday Evening Melodies (New York: Bureau of Jewish
Education, 1918), p. 71.
4 Ibid., p. 58.

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Example 1. Lew andow sky's Chatzi Kaddish for ■Friday Night

piyyut Ki Hineh KaChomer ("As Clay in the Potter's Hand;" Example 2). 5
Its appearance at this key moment in the High Holy Day liturgy might have
supplied a second point for drawing the tune's ultimate line of proliferation
in American Shabbat usage.

Abraham Baer, "Kein Anachnu..." Baal T'Fillah (Gothenburg: self-published,
1877), no. 1321b.

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Example 2. Baer's "Keiu Auaclim

il tei - fen la-yei - tzer.

efrain in Ki Hineh Kachoi

Determining the usefulness of a melody versus its appropriateness

This leads to the logical question of the usefulness of a particular melody,
which may conflict with its appropriateness. If one's goal is to get the kahal
singing regardless of the melody's consistency with the ongoing chanted
nusach, then the usefulness of a melody is far more important than its ap-
propriateness. However, the real issue is whether or not we can have both
usefulness and appropriateness simultaneously.

How do we measure the usefulness of a melody? Is it by how enthusi-
astically our congregants sing along? Few congregants are going to say "Oh,
that melody really fits the text / mood here." Most of them are not concerned
about that, they just want to sing, whenever they can!

It is much easier to set aside congregational considerations and to judge
the appropriateness of a given melody for a particular text on its own merits.
Does it fit the words? Is it in the ongoing modality prescribed by common
usage for this part of the service? In sum, does the mood of the melody fit
the mood of the service at this point?

Here are two examples. On Friday evening, those of us who still chant
Mizmor L'David (Psalm 29) in Kabbalat Shabbat have a few choices. Do
we use the "traditional" marching melody in a Major key from the Shabbat
morning Hachnasat HaTorah service, just because our congregants already
know that version? 6 Or do we use the Yemenite-sounding Moshe Nathanson
version, 7 or the Spanish-Portuguese melody (Western Sephardic), 8 or any of
the other alternatives which are appropriate for Friday night?

Zamru Lo Vol. II, Shabbat, ed. Moshe Nathanson (New York: Cantors Assembly,
1960), p. 100.

Zamru Lo Vol. I, Friday Evening, ed. Moshe Nathanson (New York: Cantors As-
sembly, 1955), p. 24.

Zamru Lo-TheNext Generation, Shabbat, ed. Jeffrey Shiovitz (New York: Cantors
Assembly, 2004), p. 294.

113

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Similarly, how many of us are using Moshe Rothblum's lively chant with
syncopated chorus for virtually every V'shamru (including the Shacharit
Amidah), simply because our congregants like singing it better than most
of the several dozen other good V'shamru versions available? It takes a lot
of courage to say to a congregation, "There are many other ways of singing
this paragraph, and you will enjoy our services more if we switch around the
melodies occasionally."

Many congregants are content with only one melody per prayer. They
may resent our attempts to enrich their musical repertoires, because it feels
less familiar to them when we switch melodies, including ones they know.
Thus, we are forced to choose between the risk of boring those who are ready
for multiple melodies per text, versus alienating those for whom the one
melody they prefer is their only touchstone to that text.

It gets more serious than merely thinking through our choices of melo-
dies. It seems that simply singing a congregational melody as it was written
(or as we know it is usually done elsewhere) may not be enough. We often
have to sing these melodies in the exact same way that the congregants are
used to, including adopting their particular way of accenting that text, or they
may still feel that we are "not singing their tunes".

We also need to decide how grammatically correct we want to be about
accents. Entire source books like Gates of Song 10 and the latest ZamruLo have
been edited for proper accents, but in real life it may be counterproductive to
insist on chanting congregational melodies that way. For example, the false
mil'el accents in the popular Major-key marching version of Mizmor L'David
during the Hachnasat HaTorah service are very hard to correct into milra
accents, and in fact may sound awkward if we try to do so.

How can melodies be used optimally by prayers leaders?

In an ideal world, we would have constant give-and-take between the kahal and
the sha"tz. The sha'tz would daven in nusach, the kahal would murmur along
where appropriate. Periodically there might be cantorial recitation of some
text, and at key points the congregation would join in aloud to keep everyone
on track. Of course, this assumes that the kahal is fluent in Hebrew, that they
appreciate nusach and cantorial singing, and that they have an understanding
of and an interest in the traditional style of presenting Jewish liturgy.

'ibid., p. 91.
Gates of Song, ed. Charles Davidson (New York: Transcontinental Music, 1987).

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Instead of this rosy picture, what we often have (except for the regulars
and the mavens) are many congregants and guests who sit confused and of-
ten bored, perhaps looking at the English in the siddur if they are interested,
waiting for the congregational melodies so they can sing along with them.
When the sanctuary is full of B'nei Mitzvah guests who are even less familiar
with a traditional service, this situation becomes even more the norm.

One result has been an initiative to increase the number of places and
texts in the service where we can add melodies. The service then becomes a
series of tunes strung together with occasional pieces of nusach. Our role as
hazzanim becomes that of a song leader, not to satisfy any evil purpose on
the part of anyone else, but simply because if we do not lead these melodies,
many congregants may get little from the worship experience we're provid-
ing.

Max Wohlberg tried to address this issue with his publications Chemdat
Shabbat and Yachad B'Kol. In both books he composed music that has
parts for the hazzan and parts for the kahal. However, these compositions
have not caught on in very many synagogues and where they have caught
on, congregants often seem to prefer singing the entire melody rather than
sharing parts of it responsively with the hazzan. This reflects the move in
many congregations away from sha'tz / kahal responses to a sung-through
style for the K'dushah of Shacharit as well as of Musaf.

What melodies are appropriate, and where?
1) Shabbat:

Let's look at the Friday evening service first. Except for nusach at the ends
of Psalms 95 - 99 (if we still chant any of them) and at the end of Psalm 93,
the entire Kabbalat Shabbat service has become congregational. In Arvit
L'Shabbat, communal song predominates in both the Sh'ma U-Virchoteha
and in the M'ein Sheva section. Some colleagues have even converted the
Lewandowski Kiddush into a congregational singalong. The Leoni melody
for Yigdal is favored for the end of Arvit, but it is often hard to restrain the
kahal from trespassing upon the hazzan's domain-the opening half of each
strophe-as the melody was originally written. The very first volume oiZamru

Max Wohlberg. Chemdat Shabbat, A Sabbath service for Hazzan and Prepared
Congregational Choir (New York: Cantors Assembly, 1971).

Max Wohlberg. Yachad B'Kol, Sabbath Recitatives for Hazzan with Congrega-
tional Refrains (New York: Cantors Assembly, 1975).

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Lo (Example 3) presented it that way. The latest edition has obliterated the
double bar line that signals when the hazzan's musical statement ends and
the kahal's response is supposed to begin.
Moderato

Example 3. Leoni's Yigdal —

On Shabbat morning there may be one or two melodies in Birchot
HaShachar and P'sukei D'Zimra, and perhaps a few more in the Sh'ma U-
Virchoteha section of Shacharit. Some hazzanim repeat the Amidah of
Shacharit while some repeat the Musaf Amidah, but few do both, and many
repeat neither Amidah. This limits the areas where everyone can join in
song to Hotsa'at and Hachnasat HaTorah, which are done almost entirely
congregationally
2) Choi:

Weekday congregational melodies are mainly for V'ahavta, Mi Chamocha,
Avot / G'vurot / K'dushah and Aleinu (some Morning minyanim sing Shomer
Yisrael during Tachanun, but Tachanun is becoming rare in Conservative
shuls). One interesting phenomenon is the virtual disappearance of an Amidah
repetition from Shacharit and Minchah L'Chol. What was once supposed
to be an emergency shortcut-the Hoicher K'dushah- has now become the
norm in our movement.

The Ramah Camps have contributed another fascinating musical quirk
to weekday services. Since they have always been careful to separate Nusach
L'Chol from Nusach L'Shabbat, the Amidah L'Chol nusach has crept backwards
into the Sh'ma U-Virchoteha section. I attribute this development to the
fact that it is hard to chant a simple Ahavah Rabbah mode in one's low vocal

u ZamruLo (1955), op. cit, p. 125, No. 7.
14 Zamru Lo (2004), op. cit., p. 121.

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register on weekdays without letting it slip into the more complex Ahavah
Rabbah mode used on Shabbat, and once that happens people's patience is
taxed because of time pressures.
3) Yamim Noraim:

New tensions have arisen in the use of congregational melodies on the High
Holy Days. How many of us are able to retain the Yigdal melody in Ahavah
Rabbah mode 15 for the end of Arvit, as opposed to being requested to use the
Leoni melody even here? On the other hand, how many of us are misusing
the congregational melody in the Chatsi Kaddish for High Holy Day Musaf 16
by chanting that in other places such as over the Torah scrolls before Maftir?
To me, that takes away from its special soul-stirring power when Musaf does
begin.

Apropos, how many of us are overusing the special Chasidic Kaddish
at the conclusion of Neilah by singing that festive version after Musaf and
even after Shacharit on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur? Same problem:
if you do not save that melody for a one-time use after Neilah, you lose its
power to musically say at that point "we made it through Yom Kippur, and
we will be Sealed in the Book of Life". Its appearance in Neilah becomes an
anticlimax when we've already used it several other times.

Just as Shabbat services could someday have no Kaddish melody other
than the Lewandowski tune, the High Holy Days in the Conservative Move-
ment could conceivable see every Chatsi Kaddish solemnly declaimed to the
Musaf refrain and every Kaddish Shaleim danced to the Neilah rikud. Are
we already responding to popular demand by edging in that direction?

The real question we must ask ourselves is this: if using (or misusing)
mostly those two melodies helps open the High Holy Day experience to con-
gregants who do not appreciate the complexity of the High Holy Day liturgy,
is it worth foregoing the proper Kaddish melodies and maybe even some of
the High Holy Day nusach? For example, do we use a Shabbat congregational

15 Gershon Ephros. Cantorial Anthology Vol. I, Rosh Hashanah (New York: Bloch
Publishing Co., 1957), p. 51.

Zamru Lo Vol. Ill, Shalosh R'galim & High Holidays, ed. Moshe Nathanson (New
York: Cantors Assembly, 1974), p. 134.

"Chasidic Kaddish-Rosenblatt," Ketonet Yosef, Hazzanic Compendium for the
Entire Year, ed. Joseph A. Levine (New York: H. L. Miller Cantorial School at the Jew-
ish Theological Seminary, 2000), p. 713.

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L'Dor VaDor rather than the High Holy Day version by Abraham Baer, just
so the congregants can sing another melody that they know?

Since most non-maven congregants were not taught an appreciation
of the traditional style of davening, just listening to our cantorial recitatives
and choral (i.e., non-congregational) pieces may be boring to the average
younger congregant who will someday be supporting his or her synagogue as
an adult. We have not done a very good job of helping them to understand
the concept of using music as a touchstone for t'shuvah. Therefore they ap-
preciate the congregational melodies which are in the High Holy Days, as
music, and some of us use our choirs primarily to lead those melodies rather
than to perform classic choral pieces. Is this really what we should be doing
with all our training?
4) Shalosh Regalim:

Pilgrimage Festival services are even more problematic than High Holy Days.
In many synagogues, the average congregants have little sense of the liturgical
role the Shalosh Regalim play in the cycle of the Jewish year. In their lives
Pesach means home sedarim, Sukkot has become a school-based holiday
(since few homes have sukkah dwellings), and Shavuot is totally lost among
Memorial Day barbecues and Graduation parties.

There is a very haunting nusach for Arvit L'Shalosh Regalim, 19 and a
beautiful Chatsi Kaddish melody as well. How many of us use these unusual
melodies? The problem is this: unless one is blessed with a group of mavens,
the few congregants who do attend Shalosh Regalim Arvit have little familiar-
ity with Festival melodies heard so seldom.

Therefore, some hazzanim choose to use the Lewandowski Chatsi Kaddish
instead of the one for Shalosh Regalim Arvit, just so their congregants can
have something to sing along with. Which is more important — chanting it
in the prescribed nusach that heralds the arrival of a new liturgical season, or
getting people to sing? Synagogues, minyanim or havurot which have opted
to do without hazzanim have clearly chosen the latter priority, while some
shuls with hazzanim are following suit so as to not alienate their members
who also attend breakaway services.

18 Baer, Baal T'Fillah, op. cit, No. 1114, 1. W.

19 Baer, Baal T'Fillah, op. cit., No. 722.

20 Ibid., no. 758, l.W.

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What benefits do hazzanim gain by using congregational melodies?

Briefly,seasonally shifting nusach is unmatched for delineating liturgical occa-
sions, the structure of the services, and the moods of the texts. Throughout
the years that I have taught nusach at C AJE (Coalition for the Advancement of
Jewish Education), I have also said that our liturgy in general and our nusach
in particular have two main functions. They serve to build a vertical connec-
tion with our Jewish past, and a horizontal connection with Jews worldwide.
Moreover they serve to bind together the community which is performing a
particular liturgy at a specific time in a specific place.

However, this is only valid for congregants who find such values to be
meaningful, and who buy into the system. The majority of Jews in our larger
cities are not affiliated with any synagogue, and most synagogue members do
not attend services regularly. Do we just concern ourselves with satisfying
the musical and spiritual needs of the regulars who do attend, or do we reach
out to the non-attendees (and maybe even the non-affiliated?

Either way, we will attract more attendees by turning them into partici-
pants in our liturgy than if we just chant more recitatives at them. An occa-
sional recitative is fine in the right spot with the right kahal, and disciplined,
well-planned chanting helps keep us professionally challenged as hazzanim.
However, for each congregant who follows our every note with excitement,
most of us have at least three other congregants who may become bored
half-way through our recitatives because they do not have a clue as to what
we are doing.

So, it seems to me that a judicious use of congregational melodies is the
most potent tool in our skill-set to attract the attention and participation of
those other three-quarters of our congregants. We actually gain some benefits
which help us fulfill our mission as shlichei tsibbur when we use melodies
that they can sing.

There are two diametrically opposed reasons why congregants are peri-
odically at different points in a traditional Jewish service. The wishful reason
is that they may be so involved with their own davening that they go at their
own pace. The realistic reason is that they may not be comfortable with the
language or the liturgical ideas, so they read the English (or daydream, or
talk) and then we hear the rustle of pages as they get caught up when a page
number is announced. For both of these groups, congregational melodies
help keep the entire kahal moving through the service at approximately the
same pace.

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Some of our congregants seem to experience kavvanah when they daven
along, especially the knowledgeable ones for whom the texts have meaning.
For the rest, often the only time they attain a sense of devotion is during the
group rendition of congregational melodies, even if they do not understand
what they are singing. It is the act of singing in a group which seems to release
the endorphins for some of them. It also lets us help them to bind together
as a community for that brief moment.

A new buzzword is "ownership" of an activity or a concept. There is no
question that singing a prayer gives most congregants more ownership of
that prayer than merely listening to us chant it. So, the question is whether
or not we can encourage the give-and-take of the old-style davening. That
worked better when the kahal was more knowledgeable, but it can still work
for us nowadays with the kahal we have.

We hazzanim thrive on give-and-take. Many us would agree that a
vibrant series of exchanges with our kahal (such as a responsive K'dushah)
does at least as much for our sense of professional satisfaction as does chant-
ing a recitative. What do we do when our kahal wants only a sung-through
K'dushah? We have to find other places in the liturgy to reproduce that lost
give-and-take.

The hallmark of instrumentally accompanied services like Craig
Taubman's Friday Night Live 1 and the so-called "B. J. Experience" 22 is the
spotlighting of livelier melodies than some of us have been using. While this
certainly combats the boredom factor and opens the service to a younger
crowd whose music is more rhythm-oriented, it sometimes offers too much of
a good thing. As you will see in the 1970s Camp Ramah service below, there
was an exquisite moment when the frenzy of the chasidic L'cha Dodi (all nine
verses with four consecutive melodies) gave way to a suddenly slow Mizmor
ShirL'Yom HaShabbat. When we pick and choose melodies from the newer
services, we need to keep a similar balance in order to retain interest.

Craig Taubman. Friday Night Live (Sherman Oaks, CA: Sweet Louise Music,
1999).

The Singles Service at B'nai Jeshurun Congregation, whose late rabbi, Marshall
Meyer instituted an almost completely sung liturgy accompanied by keyboard and
punctuated by spontaneous dancing in the aisles (New York: the Upper West Side of
Manhattan, 1985 to the present).

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What are some difficulties encountered when introducing / changing
melodies?

During the years leading up to the publication of the original Siddur Sim
Shalom," some leaders of the Conservative Movement may have made a
conscious decision to present a new siddur which had minimal transliteration.
The Mahzor for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur 14 also had little translitera-
tion, and in this respect both prayerbooks were following the style of the
Silverman series which they updated. The theory may have been that if there
was virtually no transliteration in the official siddur, congregants would be
encouraged to learn to read Hebrew (or at least to decode it).

Needless to say, that did not happen. As the independent Prayer Book
Press published Siddur Likr at Shabb at (1973), Mahzor Hadash (1977), and
then Siddur Hadash (1991)," they took pains to follow a path of accessibil-
ity for Conservative congregants who were not fluent in Hebrew. All three
prayerbooks were full of transliteration for every prayer which could possibly
be sung by the congregation, as well as meaningful responsive readings and
very legible typography in a modified Frankreuhl font.

By the mid-1990s it became clear to the Conservative leadership that
the original Siddur Sim Shalom had real competition in Siddur Hadash. The
response was to publish a revised Siddur Sim Shalom (dubbed "Slim Shalom"
in appreciation of its smaller size and weight) in two parts - Shabbat / Festivals
(1998) and Choi (2002)." Both of these siddurim have more transliteration
than the 1985 version, and more responsive readings as well.

This subject concerns hazzanim directly, because when adequate translit-
eration is not available it becomes harder to encourage our congregants to
participate. Even if it is agreed that English transliterations open the davening
experience for those who do not read Hebrew, there is still plenty of room to
disagree about which transliteration system we should be using. Scientific
transliteration is not an option, where each Hebrew letter is matched by a
single English letter with diacritical marks. A prime example: in non-scientific

23 Siddur Sim Shalom, ed. Jules Harlow (New York: Rabbinical Assembly, 1985).
Mahzor for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, ed. Jules Harlow (New York: Rab-
binical Assembly, 1972).

" D All edited by Sidney Greenberg and Jonathan D. Levine (Bridgeport, CT: Media
Judaica).

Both edited by Leonard Cahan.

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transliteration, the only two choices for "Tzadi" are "tz" or "ts". Given how
often students misread the "Tzadi" as a "Z," I prefer using "ts".

Another transliteration issue is how to render "Chaf" and "Het". If one
wants to retransliterate back from English into Hebrew, then having different
values for these two is useful. Since most American Jews cannot make any
difference in the sound of these two consonants, there are those who use a
"ch" for both letters. If there are going to be different English values, do we
use "ch" or "kh" for "Chaf"? Do we use "h" with an underline or "h" with a
dot under it for "Het"?

Unfortunately, the three major religious movements and the major pub-
lishers of Hebrew educational texts have all moved to the "Hadassah" typeface.
This is a problem of orthography: how the letters look on the page. In the
Hadassah font, the classic points of confusion from one Hebrew consonant
to the next are in fact worse than in the Frankreuhl font. For example, "Bet"
/ "Vet" look similar to "Kaf" / "Chaf", because the lower right corner of the
latter is squared, not rounded. There is not enough space in the upper left
corner of the "Hey", and the list goes on.

One last comment about orthography. Those of us who are using the
"Trope Trainer" software from Kinnor to print our Torah and Haftarah read-
ings are finding very useful the fact that the Sh'va Na and Kamatz Katan are
in bold print. While Siddur Sim Shalom uses the special symbol for Kamatz
Katan of a line with a dot underneath, it would be nice to someday have an
official siddur (not a classroom siddur) which presents both the Sh'va Na and
the Kamatz Katan in bold print.

Another issue for many congregations is the use of musical instruments.
At one time, either a congregation had an organ or it didn't, and guitars and
other instruments were either used or they were not. Now we have the
phenomenon where an otherwise traditional congregation will say to their
clergy, "We want to do Kabbalat Shabbat with instruments during the sum-
mer months when sunset is later." When that proves to be successful they
then may say, "We want to use instruments for Kabbalat Shabbat year-round."
It is hard to say "No" if there are three times more attendees at the services
with instruments than there are at services without instruments.

If the issue were merely halachic, then whatever one's rabbi says becomes
the pattern in that shul. However, if one's approach to Shabbat includes an
enjoyment of the peace and quiet of no TV, stereo, telephone, etc. then this
may become an imposition on the religious life of the hazzan. Some leave

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their jobs over such issues, but many of us just put aside our own sense of
religiosity for the sake of the needs of the synagogue.

Just as we would love to chant recitatives but we recognize that our
congregants enjoy melodies with which they can sing, so too some of us face
the reality that the use of instruments brings in the crowds even if inside
we are bemoaning our lost Shabbat quietude. Which values should prevail
here? We directly benefit from the larger attendance and the sense that we
are connecting with our congregants, but what do we lose as hazzanim? To
quote a recent popular book: has the cheese moved and some of us do not
yet accept that concept?

If we are forced to make concessions in both our craft and our personal
religious sensibilities, where are the positives we all need to keep going in this
profession? Can we find our job satisfaction in teaching the adult education
courses necessary to help our congregants become more knowledgeable? Do
we live for the occasional Bar/Bat Mitzvah student who really "gets it" and
goes on to more davening and leyning? Or can we find fulfilment in a service
where people sing along enthusiastically, even if we have to fudge the nusach
to use more compelling tunes?

The last issue involved with the difficulty of changing melodies is really
a review of a comment made in another context above: congregants not only
prefer the melodies they already know, but they also want them sung in the
manner which they already know. It amazes me that a colleague can come
to audition for a pulpit we are leaving, and not ask a single question about
what these congregants enjoy singing. On the other hand, just giving one's
successor a list of favorite melodies is not enough — a tape or CD is needed
to find out the details of how they actually perform their favorite melodies.

Is there a "Conservative" approach?

Most of us serve United Synagogue-affiliated congregations, or shuls which
in some other way fall under the umbrella of Conservative Judaism. As
such, we are immersed in an atmosphere which purports to value traditional
liturgy, yet we must engage congregants who do not have a knowledge base
with which to understand and appreciate that liturgy. In the Conservative
movement, we use congregational melodies in alternation with traditional
styles of davening to bridge that gap.

This is different from Orthodox services, in that the majority of Ortho-
dox congregants (supposedly) do have the knowledge of Hebrew and liturgy
to actively participate in their services. Yet, the truth is that less congrega-

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tional singing goes on in many Orthodox services than in ours. There are
also proportionally far fewer trained hazzanim in Orthodox shuls than in
Conservative synagogues.

This also differs from Reform and Reconstructionist / Renewal services,
because there is little assumption in those movements that the traditional
manner of davening is relevant to their congregants. Reform and Recon-
structionism operate under no constraint against having the majority of
their liturgy read to them in English, with interceding Hebrew selections
communally sung, usually to instrumental accompaniment.

In Conservative services we try to balance traditional davening in the
prescribed nusach with judicious use of congregational melodies as a method
of engaging those congregants who otherwise may be getting little from the
musical aspects of the service. While congregants who do know what is going
on also appreciate a chance to sing as a group periodically, congregational
melodies are often the only point of entry for many congregants who are less
knowledgeable.

What melodies were used in a "classic" Camp Ramah Friday Evening service?
During my student years at the Cantors Institute (1975 - 1980), I did research
among our colleagues who were working in synagogues, on the contents of
the Friday Evening service in the Conservative movement. The data revealed
a remarkable overlap between the services I experienced as a counselor on
the staff of Camp Ramah and the actual practice in Conservative synagogues
at that time. Perhaps even more surprising is the anecdotal evidence that
only during the last few years have there been any significant changes in the
Friday Evening service between what is done in the Ramah camps and in
mainstream Conservative congregations.

Back in the 1970s some of the Ramah camps would hire a Rabbinical
School student to serve as Rosh T'fillah and a Cantors Institute student to
be Rosh Hazzanut. During recent years, the latter position has faded away,
and the Rosh T'fillah position is now sometimes filled by a Cantorial School
student. One benefit for Seminary undergrads working at the various Ramah
camps has always been the opportunity to help develop a variety of prayer
services keyed to the various age levels of the campers.

By hiring JTS students for these positions the Ramah camps gained a
remarkable consistency between the way services were done at JTS and at
camp. I cannot say for certain that this is still the case, because there are many
influences at work in services nowadays which were not present in the 1970s.

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However, the generation of rabbinical and cantorial students who attended
JTS and also worked at Ramah in those days brought the camp melodies into
their synagogues when they began working full-time in the field.

There are two remarkable considerations about the 1970s Camp Ramah
Friday Evening service which I analyze below. One is that there was very little
variation (if any) in these melodies among all the camps at that time. The
other is that, contrary to opinions I have heard from colleagues, with only one
exception these melodies are all "kosher" and the nusach is in keeping with
the Shabbat evening modalities we were taught in Cantors Institute classes.
There was in the 1970s - and still is thirty years later - a sense among
some members of the Cantors Assembly that incorrect nusach was and is be-
ing used at Ramah. As the following examples will show, that is by and large
not the case. Most of the melodies were written by known composers like
Goldfarb or Lewandowski or Sulzer, or they came from authentic Chasidic
and Sephardic traditions. The Ramah camps actually do a better job than
some of our own synagogues in making sure that Nusach L'Chol is properly
limited to use on weekdays. So why the lingering resentment among many
of our cantorial colleagues?

I believe that the answer lies in the larger cultural trends of the period. In
the 1960s this country experienced wrenching social changes such as the
Vietnam War protests and the rise of Black Power. American Popular music
changed under the influence of Joan Baez, Bob Dylan, Peter Paul and Mary,
John Denver, Glen Campbell and Joni Mitchel. As the pace of social change
quickened, Americans began to experience cultural shock.

In addition, after Israel triumphed in the 1967 Six Day War, it suddenly
became acceptable to express one's Jewish identity openly, and there was an
explosion of new Jewish music which has not let up yet. Shlomo Carlebach,
Folk-Rock services, the Chasidic Song Festivals, Debbie Friedman, Jeff Klep-
per, Theodore Bikel, and Safam all began performing or composing (or both)
in the late 1960s and early 1970s. An unrecognized influence was also the
Lubavitcher Chasidim, as they made inroads into the life of Jewish students
on many campuses with their enthusiastic and tuneful services.

All of these influences were felt by the rabbis-and-cantors to-be who
staffed the various Ramah camps. They then brought the melodies back to
JTS, and their young charges carried them back to local congregations across
the country. These were two main sources for new congregational melodies
in the Conservative movement. It seems to me that this uncontrolled flow
of melodies may have alarmed the established hazzanim, because it was

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happening outside of their control and without their moderating influence.
However, that is in keeping with the way many aspects of cultural life hap-
pened in America during the 1970s — it was the democratization of Jewish
synagogue music.

There is a tangible indicator of the direction in which this spread may have
taken place. Back in the 1970s the Seminary Synagogue used the old Singer
siddur. 27 Into the front of every siddur the text for Y'did Nefesh was pasted.
To me this indicates that Y'did Nefesh was first introduced to the Conserva-
tive Movement at Camp Ramah, then it was added to the services at JTS,
and from there it spread to the synagogues. Notice that the Pursa melody in
4/4 - the one sung at Ramah - was never completely replaced by the Zweig
melody in 3/4 when that variant became known.

Please visualize the setting for a Friday Night service at Camp Ramah.
If the weather was nice, the whole camp (over 500 people) would sit on
benches outside the Beit Am Gadol, with almost everyone dressed in white.
In bad weather we would be inside, but it was still a very special atmosphere.
By and large the tone of conversation was hushed, and even non-observant
campers could feel that something different, something special was about to
happen.

Kabbalat Shabbat, which could be led by a camper of any age, began
with the Pursa Y'did Nefesh melody and its Ya-da dai-dai-dai dai sequel.
Arvit - from Bar'chu to the end - could only be led by post-B'nei Mitzvah ag<

Example 4. L'chu N'mn'na — as sung at Ramah camps

' The Standard Prayer Book (Orthodox) American Edition, ed. Simeon Singer (New
York: Bloch Publishing Co., 1954).

28 Zamru Lo— 2004, op. cit. p.10.

29 Ibid., p. 12.

126

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♦

campers. The melody for L'chu N'ran'nah (Example 4), in Major, was very
much in keeping with the majestic mood of Kabbalat Shabbat. Unfortunately,
I have not yet found the composer of this melody, and it does not appear in
either the original or the new Zamru Lo. Interestingly, while the melody does
not technically fit Adonai Malach mode because its seventh scale degree is
raised, its style matches the rest of Kabbalat Shabbat, and it is still being used
at Ramah.

The beginnings and ends of Psalms 96 - 99 were stylized, almost to the point
of becoming mini-congregational melodies. The so-called Ukranian-Dorian
variant - a minor mode with raised 4 th and 6 th degrees - never appeared
(too "European'-sounding, evidently). The nusach was a straightforward, if
simplified, use of Adonai Malach.

Mizmor L'David was always done to the Spanish-Portuguese melody in
Major. 31

The nine verses of L'cha Dodi were sung extremely energetically to a
series of chasidic melodies, possibly of Lubavitcher origin (Example 5). 32

After the rush of this chasidic L'cha Dodi came a wonderful change of
tempo and mood with Mizmor Shir L'Yom HaShabbat (Psalm 92; Example
6). Not only was the sudden slowdown a welcome contrast to what preceded
it, but the harmonies inherent in this short melody were truly beautiful.

Speaking of harmonies, several hundred people singing Lewandowski's
Tzaddik Katamar- the end of this paragraph — probably came up with more
harmonies than Lewandowski himself ever imagined (Example 7). The fact
that the setting remains popular in synagogues of every stripe is a testament
to the beauty of those harmonies.

Both in the 1970s and to this day, the most common melody for Ahavat
Olam seems to be the one by Eric Mandell. There have been other melodies

Transcribed from memory by the writer.

Levine, Ketonet, op. cit., p. 85; see also International Jewish Songbook, ed. Velvel
Pasternak (New York: Tara Publications, 1994), p. 134.

Ibid., p. 89; a reconstruction of elements that appear in Zamru Lo ( 2004), pp. 36,
37 and 40.

Transcribed from memory by the author.

Lewandowski, Kol Rinnah (1871), op. cit., p. 13; harmonized after his 4-pt. ar-
rangement in Todah W'Simrah Vol. I, Shabbat (1876), p. 50.
35 Zamru Lo (1955), op. cit., p. 59, no. 4.

127

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L' - cha do- di lik - rat ka - lah, p' - nei sha-bat n'-ka- b' - lah; L' -

L'-cha do - di, L' -chado-dilik rat ka - lah p' -nei sha-bat n' ka - b'

bachjrach ye-che- stfc_ a - ni - yei a - irtk_

Example 5. Lecha Dodi — as sung at Ramah camps (page 1)

«

♦

Example 5. Lecha Dodi — as sung at Ramah camps (page 2)

*

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Example 6. Mizmor Shir

is sung til Ramah camps

composed, but by and large they have not proven as enduring in the Con-
servative Movement.

Like most Conservative synagogues in the 1970s, Ramah used the Mi
Chamocha 6 melody which is appropriate either for Friday evening or Shabbat
morning. It works well with the "Lithuanian" minor mode used for daven-
ing Maariv and sits a fourth above the Ahavah Rabbah mode of Shacharit.
Therefore it's in perfect transpositional relationship with the surrounding
nusach of both.

According to the information I have heard, Rabbi Moshe Rothblum
wrote his upbeat V'shamru melody for Camp Ramah in Ojai, California
many years ago. It immediately swept the rest of the camps, and (perhaps
via JTS as described above) it became deeply imbedded in the musical life of
Conservative synagogues nationwide. It is also used extensively in the Reform
Movement, and offers the possibility for both sha"tz and kahal to shine in
their respective parts, which may explain its popularity. Sad to say, that has
been a double-edged sword. It was among the first settings whose musical
structure called for repeating HaShem: Ki sheishet yamim asahAdonai (twice),
a convention that is being increasingly ignored in American Conservative
and even Orthodox practice.

At Ramah the famous (or infamous) Chatsi Kaddish melody was not sung
in exactly the way Lewandowsky first notated it. 38 His congregational melody
(ba'agala...) remains the same, as does his middle response (Y'heh shmeh...),
but the melody is now often moved back to include the previous sentence
(b'chayeichon...) And set in 4/4 time instead of 3/4, which only weakens its

36 ZamruLo (2004), op. cit., p. 80.

37 Ibid., p. 91.

38 See Example 1.

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♦

Example 7. Lewandowsky's Tsi mah, 1871) with harm

based on his 4-pt. arrangement (Todah w'Simrah, 1876.)

*

♦

tautness. In comparing current practice with the original, please notice how
Lewandowsky's elastic rhythm has been stiffened, and how his clear contrast
between the hazzan's lower - and the kahal's upper - vocal register has been
muddied.

liOseh Shalom was sung aloud at the end of the silent Amidah at Ramah,
it was to Nurit Hirsch's version from the 1969 Hassidic Song Festival. How-
ever, this was done very softly and very slowly, and only the first two sections
were sung, allowing just enough time for the last few daveners to complete
their Silent Amidah. At first, this thoughtful custom transferred to synagogues
successfully, but over time the complete setting was sung loudly for its own
sake and often repeated, in total disregard of its liturgical context.

According to my research in 1978, there were two main options for sing-
ing Vaichulu in the M'ein Sheva section. By far the more popular was that
by Goldfarb. 41 The other choice, by Lewandowski," was occasionally used at
JTS, rarely in Conservative synagogues, and never at Camp Ramah.

MageinAvot saw the only significant difference between a Friday Evening
service at Camp Ramah versus one at JTS. While Camp Ramah (and the vast
majority of synagogues) used the Goldfarb 43 melody here exclusively, JTS used
Lewandowski's cantilena - a cross between metered song and free chant
— with solo section for hazzan sandwiched in between the kahal's opening
and closing (Example 8). 44 Unfortunately the discussion is becoming moot
now, because many Conservative synagogues have jettisoned the entire M'ein
Sheva section from the Friday Evening service.

The Kad'sheinu paragraph in M'ein Sheva was the only place which saw an
occasional lapse into incorrect nusach on Friday evenings. When knowledge-
able and supportive staff were present, this paragraph was chanted correctly
in Magen Avot nusach. However, as in many synagogues today (if the M'ein
Sheva section is even included), there was a temptation to chant the familiar
congregational melody in the Ahavah Rabbah mode of the Shabbat morn-
ing Amidah . Here, too, the whole discussion is proving pointless as more

™ ZamruLo (2004), op. cit, p. 102 (unattributed).
40 Ibid., p. 356.

Goldfarb, Friday Evening Melodies, op. cit., p. 63.

Lewandowsky, Kol Rinnah, op. cit., no. 26.

Goldfarb, Friday Evening Melodies, op. cit., p. 66.

Lewandowsky, Kol Rinnah, op. cit., pp. 20-21.
45 Zamru Lo (2004), op. Cit., p. 223; attributed to A. W. Binder.

132

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♦

Example 8. Lewandowsky's cantilena fa

shuls drop not only the M'ein Sheva section from Friday evening but also the
Amidah repetitions of Shacharit, Musaf, or both, on Shabbat morning.

Friday Night Kiddush at Ramah is chanted by the entire camp in the
Chadar Ochel, and the Lewandowski 46 melody has been ubiquitous for de-
cades. It is interesting that this same melody is also standard in the Reform
Movement, and I have heard it in Orthodox venues as well.

The original Zamru Lo for Friday Evening (1955) listed the "standard"
Aleinu 47 as being composed by Sabel. More recent compilations now credit
it to Sulzer. It really should be labeled "after Sulzer." 48 There are those among

Lewandowsky, Kol Rinnah, op. cit, p.21.
47 Zamru Lo (1955), op. cit., p. 112.
Salomon Sulzer. Schir Zion, ed. Josef Sul
Kauffmann, 1922), no. 45.

:, 3 rd edition, (Frankfurt a

133

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♦

us hazzanim who see a resemblance between the Shehu Noteh Shamayim
melody that has since been appended to Sulzer's noble psalmody, and the
children's nursery song "The Teensy Weensy Spider." 50

In the 1970s, the Leoni Yigdal was not used at Camp Ramah nor at JTS.
Rather, a melody which I understood had been sung in the Orthodox chain
of Young Israel Synagogues as far back as the 1930s - and which I first heard
at a Lubavitch House - was used. It appears in the new Zamru Lo 51 pretty
much as I'd remembered it. During the intervening years, the Leoni melody
began to appear in Ramah services, and it remains the most common melody
for Yigdal in Conservative synagogues.

Conclusions

I hope that the foregoing has demonstrated the importance of using par-
ticular congregational melodies to engage congregants, along with some of
the challenges we face in doing so. In examining the Ramah Camps' Friday
Evening service of the 1970s we recognize some of the enduring melodies
which still typify a Conservative service, especially an A cappella service. The
journey of common melodies — disseminated by five decades of rabbinical
and cantorial graduates — from Ramah to JTS and from there out to affiliated
synagogues, stands more as fact than as theory. It is also well documented
that many of our most knowledgeable and active lay leadership spent their
summers in Ramah camps as teens.

One question still needs to be addressed: how did all the congregational
melodies that I have proven to be "kosher" wind up at Ramah in the first
place? Did some hazzanim in the early 1950s have an influence despite the
fact that they weren't officially involved? From the fact that Ramah camps
made a clear musical distinction between Shabbat and Choi from the very
get-go, one could easily reach that conclusion; without professional guidance
it would hardly have been possible.

Take, for example, the tune for Adon Olam that has been sung on Shabbat
morning for over half a century in Ramah camps and Conservative synagogues .
It is identified as "French Sephardic" in the new Zamru Lo. ' Yet it was first

49 Zamru Lo (2004), p. 281; labeled, "Traditional."
"The Teensy Weensy Spider," Fireside Song Book of Birds and Beasts, ed. Jane Yolen
(New York: Simon and Schuster, 1972).

51 Zamru Lo (2004), p. 23.

52 Zamru Lo (2004), op. cit, p. 388, a.

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♦

transcribed for our movement by the Cantors Assembly's longtime Execu-
tive Vice President - Samuel Rosenbaum - in the first Zamru Lo of 1955/
when Rosenbaum led the charge against Ramah's repertoire of catchy tunes!
This one was typical of its time but also hinted at something timeless, which
might be why Sam Rosenbaum notated it for posterity. Essentially a call and
response between hazzan and kahal, it caught on immediately. So much so
that when the Ramah campers first introduced it to their home congrega-

eit na - a - sa v' - chef - tsc

kol

a - zai

me - lech

sh-

mo mk - ra, a - za. me_^-

lech

sh' - mo

nik - ra.

D.C., etc.

Example 9. The "Ramah" Adon Olam — a call and response

tions, they taught it in two parts: with a lively obbliggato riding high above
the melody (Example 9). 54

We should note that call and response was in the air at that time, in
Broadway musicals like Brigadoon ("Almost like Being in Love"), Call Me

Zamru Lo (1955), op. cit„ p. 117, "Adon Olam no. 5."

Levine, Ketonet Yosef, op. cit, p. 425.

Alan Jay Lerner and Frederick Loewe (New York: Sam Fox Publishing Co.,

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♦

Madam ("You Don't Need Analyzing"), Annie Get Your Gun ("Anything
You Can Do"), South pacific (There Is Nothing Like A Dame"), and Kiss
Me Kate ("Always True To You In My Fashion"). 59

To take root in synagogue practice, though, popular musical innova-
tions have also had one foot planted in Jewish tradition. This is true of the
alleged "French Sephardic" Adon Olam. It stems from the region of Provence
in southeastern France, hence its designation as "Nusach Comtadine" - the
region's Judeo-Provencal name - in a hazzanic compendium commissioned by
the H. L. Miller Cantorial School at JTS. Jewish settlement in the area now
known as Carpentras goes back to the 16 th century. The tune's provenance
is attested by its use in an early-20th century "Song of Zion" setting by the
renowned French Jewish composer Darius Milhaud., whose family traced
its ancestry back to the fall of Jerusalem under the Romans.

As proof of its antiquity, the melody's three leading phrases quote MiSinai
prayer motifs "Who remembered Jacob. ..from Egypt until the present" (ki
fadahAdonai et Ya'akov...mimitsrayim v'adheinah) and Ashkenazic cantilla-
tion for "Your Prophets" (n'vi'echa) from the Book of Lamentations (Examples
10a, 10b, 10c). Its musical message in Adon Olam might well be that the

Example 10a. A MiSinai motif from High Holy Day Maariv

56 Irving Berlin (New York: self-published, 1953).
" Irving Berlin (New York: self-published, 1946).

Richard Rogers and Oscar Hammerstein II (New York: Chappell & Co., 1949).
59 Cole Porter (New York : T. B. Harms Co., 1948).
Levine, Ketonet Yosef, op. cit, p. 425.

"Chant de Siyon," Poemes Juifs (Paris: Editions Eschig, 1916).
Joseph A. Levine. Synagogue Song in America (1989; 2 nd edition, Northvale, NJ:
Jason Aronson, 2001): p. 217, MiSinai motif #2; p. 209, V, LAM, 4e; p. 226, MiSinai
motif #32.

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♦

Example 10b. A Cantillation motif from Lamentations

Adon Olam phrase 3

Example 10c. A MiSinai motif from KolNidre night

Eternal One watches over Israel even today, when the power of prophecy has
been removed just as it was at the time of the Temple's fall.

This bright, Israeli-sounding setting was introduced to American Con-
servative campers and synagogue goers at a moment when the Jewish State
was about to embark on its first successful military campaign, in the Sinai
Desert, then held by Egypt] That it was chosen from among all the dozens
of other tunes for Adon Olam - by our unknown madrich / hazzan to teach
to summer campers precisely then - goes a long way towards explaining
the amazing persistence of the Ramah tradition in American Conservative
synagogues.

*

♦

Sources Consulted

Annie Get Your Gun, Irving Berlin (New York: self-published, 1946).

Baal T'Fillah, Abraham Baer (Gothenburg: self-published, 1877).

Brigadoon, Alan Jay Lerner & Frederick Loewe (New York: Sam Fox Publishing Co.,

1947).
Call Me Madam, Irving Berlin (New York: self-published, 1953).
Cantorial Anthology Vol. I, Rosh Hashanah, Gershon Ephros, ed. (New York: Bloch

Publishing Co., 1957).
ChemdatShabbat,A Sabbath Service for Hazzan and Prepared Congregational Choir,

Max Wohlberg (New York: Cantors Assembly, 1971).
Fireside Book of Birds and Beasts, ed. Jane Yolen (New York: Simon and Shuster,

1972).
Friday Evening Melodies, Israel and Samuel Goldfarb (New York: Bureau of Jewish

Education, 1918).
Friday Night Live, Craig Taubman (Sherman Oaks, CA: Sweet Louise Productions,

1999).
Gates of Song, Charles Davidson, ed. (New York: Transcontinental Music, 1987).
International Jewish Songbook, Velvel Pasternak, ed. (New York: Tara Publications,

1994).
Ketonet Yosef , Hazzanic Compendium for the Entire Year, Joseph A. Levine, ed.

(New York: H. L. Miller Cantorial School at the Jewish Theological Seminary,

2000).
Kiss Me Kate, Cole Porter (New York: T B. Harms Co., 1948).
KolRinnah U'T'fillah, Louis Lewandowsky (Berlin: self-published, 1871).
Mahzor Chadash, Sidney Greenberg and Jonathan D. Levine, eds. (Bridgeport, CT:

Media Judaica, 1977).
Mahzor for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, Jules Harlow, ed. (New York: Rabbinical

Assembly, 1972).
Poemes Juifs, music by Darius Milhaud (Paris: Editions Eschig, 1916).
SchirZion, Salomon Sulzer, Josef Sulzer, ed., 3 rd edition (Frankfurt am Main: J. Kauff-

mann,1922).
Siddur Hadash, Sidney Greenberg and Jonathan D. Levine, eds. (Bridgeport, CT:

Media Judaica, 1991).
Siddur Likrat Shabbat, Sidney Greenberg and Jonathan D. Levine, eds. (Bridgeport,

CT: Media Judaica, 1973).
Siddur Sim Shalom, Jules Harlow, ed. (New York: Rabbinical Assembly, 1985).

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♦

SiddurSim Shalom for Shabbat and Festivals, Leonard Cahan, ed. (New York: Rab-
binical Assembly, 1985).

Siddur Sim Shalom for Weekdays, Leonard Cahan, ed. (New York: Rabbinical As-
sembly, 2002).

South Pacific, Richard Rogers and Oscar Hammerstein II (New York: Chappell &
Co., 1949).

Standard Prayer Book, American Edition, Simeon Singer, ed. (New York: Bloch
Publishing Co., 1954).

Synagogue Song in America, Joseph A. Levine, 2 nd edition (Livingston, NJ: Jason
Aronson Publishers, Inc., 2001).

Todah W'Simrah Vol I, Shabbat, Louis Lewandowsky (Berlin: self-published,
1876).

Yachad B'Kol, Sabbath Recitatives for Hazzan with Congregational Refrains, Max
Wohlberg (New York: Cantors Assembly, 1975).

Zamru Lo Vol. I, Friday Evening, Moshe Nathanson, ed. (New York: Cantors As-
sembly, 1955).

Zamru Lo Vol.11, Shabbat, Moshe Nathanson, ed. (New York: Cantors Assembly,
1960).

Zamru Lo Vol. Ill, Shalosh R'galim & High Holidays, Moshe Nathanson, ed. (New
York: Cantors Assembly, 1974).

Zamru Lo - The Next Generation, Shabbat, Jeffrey Shiovitz, ed. (New York: Cantors
Assembly, 2002).

Neil Schwartz is Hazzan and Educator at B'nai Zion Synagogue in Chattanooga,
Tennessee. He has taught Nusach and Trope for CAJE Conferences and the IMUN
program of The United Synagogue. He is a 1980 graduate of the Cantors Institute, and
worked for several summers as a counselor at Camp Ramah, New England.

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Shul Has New Tunes, Less Harmony: An Informed
Reaction to the Reconstructionist Approach

by Morton Gold

The congregation that I attend has seen the retirement of its rabbi and the
hiring of a new one...

Since the congregation was founded back in the 1920s, it has been part of
the Conservative movement. Now it seems that "we" are going to determine
the future affiliation of the Center. This has as much tension as the outcome
of a baseball game between the Detroit Tigers and the New York Yankees.
Why? The Conservative placement service did not send any prospective
candidates (maybe we didn't pay enough). In fairness, actually they did, and
he was offered a contract, but he decided to go instead to a relatively nearby
temple in Glens Falls, NY. But he was it.

On the other hand, the Reconstructionist seminary actually sent us two,
the second of which was hired. From the first service it was obvious that we
weren't in Kansas anymore. The tunes were tunes taken from various CDs
and not the ones most of the congregants were familiar with. The gentleman
wore the Muslim-style kippah along with the longer black-stripe tallit. Musaf
was done away with. The protocol for having aliyot based on Kohen-Levi-
Yisrael was done away with. The Saturday Morning service was frequently
interrupted with explanations. The service was more seminar than service.

There were frequent English readings during the Saturday Morning
service. The translations did not reflect the meaning of the Hebrew but were
politically correct and militantly feminist in orientation. For example, Avinu
Malkeinu, which means our Father, our King, was translated as our Mother,
our Queen, much to my dismay and disgust. And so on it went. Worshipers
who attended often and who were knowledgeable soon left. The thrust of the
rabbi's efforts was centered on the Hebrew school...

While I would be happy with a return to a traditional Conservative ser-
vice and would be content with a Reform service (surprise!), I am not at all
happy with a Reconstructionist service.

While the Reform service is mostly in English and the Conservative
mostly in Hebrew, they have essentially left the service alone. The "R" people
have tried to reinvent the wheel, and it is neither milchig nor fleishig. I don't
know whether I am more turned off by the English "translations," the corny

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*

hassidic-style tunes, the extended "healing" prayers, the service that is more
seminar than service, or all of the above.

Morton Gold is essentially a composer, conductor and educator. He conducted the
Boston "Pops" Orchestra in his own music at the relatively tender age of twenty-one.
While he has composed over eighty works in most forms, he is best known for his oratorio
"Haggadah: A Search for Freedom" which was widely performed and was broadcast
on Public Television nationally in the United States. This article first appeared in
The National Jewish Post and Opinion of October 29, 2003 and is excerpted here
with permission.

+

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Miracle on Bathurst Street - a Reform Revolution

by Benjamin Z. Maissner

Great as music is, it is neither the ultimate nor the supreme. The Ultimate
is God, and the medium in which guidance has been conveyed to us is the
word... All we have are words in the liturgy and reverence in our hearts. But
n these two are often apart from each other. It is the task of music to bring

them togethei

Abraham Joshua Heschel,
The Insecurity of Freedom.

Although I've been cantor at one of North America's largest Reform temples
for over twenty-six years, as an eight- year old I first led t'fillah in a corner
shtibele - a tiny chasidic prayer room - in Tel Aviv, just off Dizengoff Street.
Among twentieth-century hazzanim whom I would eventually meet and
admire, my uncle Israel Alter known as Ha'Ari ShebaChavurah ("the lion
in the pack"), became my role model for life. His hazzanut fell somewhere
between orderly but predictable T'FillatHa-Seder and emotional but poten-
tially uncontrollable T'FillatHaRegesh. It's been termed Hazzanut HaSefer, a
text-based interpretation of the liturgy, through music. Because Hebrew is
my native tongue and my uncle's personality was larger than life, I made his
approach to the cantorial element of t'fillah my own as well.

Yet, the world moves on. Nowadays, liturgist Lawrence Hoffman reminds
us,

Worship is seen more and more as belonging to the people and demanding,
therefore, an engaging musical style that evokes their active participation. ..ar-
tistic excellence may be counter-productive to the goal of communal worship
in a democratic age. 3

1 Akiva Zimmermann. B'Ron Yachad (Tel Aviv: Central Cantorial Archive, 1988),
p. 211.

2 Joseph A. Levine. "A Kaleidoscope of Twentieth-Century Hazzanic Materpieces,"
unpublished program notes for a concert, Cantors Assembly Convention (Monticello,
NY: Kutsher's Resort, 1999).

3 Lawrence A. Hoffman. "Musical Traditions and Tensions in the American Syna-
gogue," Concilioum: Music and the Experience of God, ed. M. Collins, D. Power and
M. Burnim (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1989). P. 35.

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♦

Through the course of my career, however, I have found that the people's
"active participation" in worship — through music - can and does take several
forms. Contrary to what Rabbi Hoffman implies, cantorial singing remains
the most important, since without someone at the helm to guide it, people's
singing during worship is like a rudderless ship: going round and round in
circles and getting nowhere.

Unison singing by the entire congregation has, of course, been a part of
Jewish public prayer for a long time. It began at the shores of the Reed Sea
(Exodus 15: 1-19) and has run its majestic course down to our day in widely
performed hymns such as Eil Adon, Ein Keiloheinu and Yigdal. But alongside
unison singing there has flowed another mighty stream of congregational
song, first sounded by Miriam's alternate version of the Song at the Sea
(Exodus 15: 20-21). In only a passing mention the Bible tells us that Miriam
"answered" the people - vata'an lahem - in responsive song triggered by
her call: shiru ("you sing"). That "hazzanic" cue could have evoked one of
several possible refrains, all of which are spelled out in the Babylonian Talmud
(Sotah 30b). But it was indisputably congregational singing, and remained
viable until very recently when general Hebraic illiteracy among Jewish laity
led to its being overshadowed by the sing-along approach.

The latter form of communal participation used to limit itself to a kind
of congregational "drone" when Jews could still pray in Hebrew. Worshipers
would move along with the cantor's chant in an undertone that was soft but
definitely audible, articulating the words with their lips. Sociologist Ronald
Wolfson has applied the term "participatory listening" to this type of active
participation in prayer.^

All three forms of sung participation - unison, responsive and semi-
audibly to oneself - are equally viable as modes of individual expression
(kavvanah) within the communal exercise of fixed public prayer (keva). I
witnessed their use by the hazzanic masters whom I heard as a boy growing
up in Tel Aviv during the 1950s: Benjamin Unger at the Great Synagogue;
Shlomo Ravitz who directed our children's choir at the BILU Elementary
School; Leib Glantz at the Tiferet Tzvi Synagogue; and David (Reb Dovid)
Brenner who functioned as ba'al t'fillah at the corner shtibl, Ahavat Zion.
From all of these devout men, and particularly Reb Dovid, I heard nigunim
woven into every service of the year, be it Shabbat, Chagim or Yamim Nora'im;
not a single phrase of their davening was devoid of joy or d'veikut, a feeling
of spiritual closeness to one's Creator.

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As a student at HUC I learned from Israel Alter and Moshe Ganchoff
how to use nigunim in the modern synagogue. I would serve two such in-
stitutions as cantor over the next forty or more years: Germantown Jewish
Center in Philadelphia; and Holy Blossom Temple in Toronto. After the late
musicologist Judith Kaplan Eisenstein attended a service at my Philadelphia
synagogue she told me: "here at Germantown it's difficult to differentiate art
music from folk music; it all so sounds so skillfully pre-arranged." I still cherish
that remark as a vindication of my determined effort to blend the warmth of
Reb Dovid Brenner's passionately sung nusach with the musical sensitivity of
my inventive Germantown organist, Howard Gamble, and the high standards
set by my hazzanic mentors, Israel Alter and Moshe Ganchoff.

In 1979 1 left the friendly Conservative environment of Philadelphia and
entered a larger, multicultural world in Toronto, the Western hemisphere's
last bastion of traditional hazzanut, where many Jews still spoke Yiddish on
an everyday basis. My not-so-little island within that world was somewhat
different: the huge Classical Reform temple, Holy Blossom (Pirchei Kodesh).
Jacob Barkin and Ben Steinberg had served as cantor and organist/music
director there years before, each having left their mark on the temple's musi-
cal practice. It was an impressive collection of both traditional and classical
repertoire, and included a professional octet, organist and volunteer choir of
members who just loved singing. On Rosh HaShanah almost 6,000 worship-
ers, most of whom had not attended services since the previous Yom Kippur,
packed every corner of the temple complex. That statistic hasn't changed
much during my tenure.

My early years as cantor at Holy Blossom were not easy, to say the least.
The congregation and I had to cope with changes in rabbinic leadership as
well as in Sabbath and High Holy Day prayer books. Gates of Prayer and
Gates of Repentance introduced a multitude of Hebrew texts unfamiliar to
regular Reform synagogue goers. Understandably, they remained passive,
uninvolved, even agitated over their inability to contribute to or gain from
the newly imposed liturgical challenge.

The magnificent legacy of music that I had inherited and to which they
were accustomed was beautifully executed by a professional choir and pipe
organ accompanying me from a balcony at the far end of a long and narrow
cathedral-like sanctuary. I felt something was missing; the music of our
worship seemed distant, never really conveying its inner depth. With lights
dimmed and the atmosphere grim, we — myself included — felt small and
insignificant. In this setting I knew intuitively that the combination of words

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and music, however gloriously sung, could never fill the space and set the
mood it ought to create. Any sense of devotion and spirituality seemed to be
manufactured and empty of real substance. It did not feel at all like t'fillah,
as I remembered it.

Yes, our services were impressive, but where was some sort of kavvanah,
of devotion and reflection? When, I asked myself, would our people feel as if
they were even marginally partners to the enterprise and experience which
supposedly brought them to the sanctuary to begin with? Was any one pres-
ent invested at all in what was taking place around them? When would we
ever pray, sing, shout, cry, plead, confess or celebrate together as a group?
When - if ever — would the imperfect yet harmonious sounds of hundreds
of people all murmuring the same prayer, which I was still used to from the
distant past, ever be heard again? There were some segments of participa-
tion when responsive readings were trotted out to pacify a bewildered and
uneasy congregation, in between pages and pages of English liturgy recited
by a rabbi. Neither of those exercises, devoid as they were of any emotional
or spiritual content, could impart a sense of a community, for the language of
many English prayers that were familiar and comforting to congregants had
now been revised to keep pace with the movement's progressive thinking.

The musical component of the service did receive the congregation's ad-
miration. This was part of Reform Judaism's aesthetic package, and at times
it did create a sense of majesty and awe woven with feelings of inclusiveness
and occasionally, of privacy with one's inner self. Evidently, some precious
moments of mystery, magic and reflective silence resulted from the high
quality of the musical compositions rendered. Nonetheless, my intuition led
me to believe that none of those feelings derived from understanding of the
newly added prayer texts. At best, worshipers were sitting as spectators, pas-
sively trying to enjoy the beauty of the moment while experiencing an inner
emptiness and waiting for the service to end.

Nonetheless, a few rays of hope still managed to shine through, as a
community thirsting for collective expression came to life in singing Sh'ma
Yisrael or Avinu Malkeinu on Yamim Nora'im. Unbelievably, I could discern
a murmured congregational accompaniment as I chanted the Great Aleinu
of Malchuyot or Oseh Shalom at the conclusion of Mourners Kaddish. It
seemed ironic that these moments of engagement occurred during High Holy
Day services attended mainly by those unfamiliar with the temple's normally
unresponsive protocol.

There had to be a reason why two of the three congregational-singing pos-
sibilities were being explored— willy-nilly— by Reform Jews who I felt were

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searching for a means of self-identification. And if so, would the third way
of involving them - chanted call and response a la Miriam - work as well?
Yamim Nora'im came only once a year, not long enough to train a congre-
gation in back-and-forth davening. But what about Shabbat, and especially
Friday night, when parents brought their children week after week with the
sole purpose of welcoming the Day of Rest as a family - through singing the
traditional prayers?

I decided to try and teach the congregation how to daven, by example, in
a renewed modern style. I soon found that combining the world of modernity
with the old familiar sounds was no easy task. A host of physical obstacles

- time and space - had to be considered in order to allow the normal evo-
lution to take place. There was the placement of the professional choir and
organ; their distance from me created an acoustical delay in relation to the
area from where the service was being led. Musically, it was obvious that only
certain dynamic ranges, rhythmic patterns and tempos were possible with
that bi-polar setup.

Still, I could sense a desire from the pews for more participation, an un-
mistakable urge to sing along with me no matter what prayer I intoned. It was
an enigma to me in the midst of this unconnected worship experience. Finally,
the critical mass of people that gathered during the High Holy Days encour-
aged me to insert the occasional nigun within my chant. The congregation's
musical patrimony of hymns I left unchanged. Around them I established a
repertoire of seasonal nusach and refrains based on the common Ashkenazic
usage of several centuries. On that foundation, arranged and presented im-
peccably, I would sail safely into my dream world of unison communal song

— combined with responsive chant and an ongoing congregational murmur.
It became increasingly clear that leitmotifs treasured by the congregation had
become a catalyst for people to anticipate more of the same throughout the
services. Bar'chu was typical (Example 1).

Example 1. Bar'chu (High Holy Day Morning)

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I was convinced of this when, during the Confession of Sins on Kol Nidre
night, some clearly antiphonal phrases began to sound in the air. I actually
shuddered as people repeated each word after me, using my exact phrases.
An electric current seemed to connect me with the worshipers. Then, in the
Reform cathedral, suddenly another surprise. Not only responsive chant, but
a wordless chasidic nigun consisting entirely of the filler syllables ai-ai-ai
interposed itself as a communal refrain: Moses' Song at the Sea alternating
with Miriam's Song after the Sea! All at once, as if it had always been that
way, the two elements of congregational singing felt natural together. And it
continued. Hazzanic statements in L'Eil Oreich Din were answered by kahal:
beYom Din; baDin. Even in the middle of a sophisticated choral setting of
Avot one could hear 1,000 lay voices joining in at v'Eilohei Avoteinu, lema'an
shemo b'ahavah (Example 2).

Example 2. Avot

Once people began murmuring along with me in the a cappella chanting
of the keva passages — Uv'chein Tein Pachd'cha, Uv'chein Tzaddikim, Uv'chein
Tein Kavod — our rabbis discovered English reading to be more and more
redundant. Our congregants, Canadian Jews of more traditional background
than those in the US, found comfort in the simple nusach remembered from
childhood. They droned along with Simcha LArtzecha, Ochila La'Eil and the
Great Aleinu. As the murmur grew into full-blown song my chant gained
momentum and I found myself involuntarily embellishing it at chatimot. I
was amazed at the congregational energy that lifted me on the words Melech
al kol ha'aretz, m'kadeish Yisrael v'Yom HaZikaron/HaKippurim (Example
3).

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Example 3. Melech al Kol Ha'aretz
I forced myself to remember that this was no longer my little shtibele, but
one of the world's most respected houses of Reform Jewish prayer. Notwith-
standing, the more I gave, the more I dared, the more I risked the unimagi-
nable, the more positive and immediate the feedback that I received - to the
approval of our rabbinic and lay leadership. Whatever we were doing, the
end result proved that it was working. Granted, we did not daven like East
European Jews did in the old country; I did not try to convey the pain, sor-
row and hardship of our forerunners. And granted, my cantorial renditions
did not approach the virtuosity of hazzanic giants whose art is preserved on
recordings. But the essence of devotional phrases — delivered as purely and
unaffectedly as I could — penetrated right to the hearts of our members, who
subconsciously knew the language in which I sang to them.

By sheer coincidence we started a forty-five minute service on the second
day of Rosh HaShanah — planned by our assistant rabbi at the time, Elyse
Goldstein — for those in the community who were hearing-impaired. It
lasted in its original format only one season. The hundred or so who showed
up told their friends about it and by the following year, attendance from
members and non-members who wanted to be there had so increased that a
special liturgy had to be constructed that would allow for a greatly expanded
amount of singing. The optional service drew overflow crowds - in a Clas-
sical Reform congregation that had never worshiped for more than one day
on Rosh HaShanah in its 140-year history. No longer was that Second Day
event specifically geared for the handicapped; in fact, regular attendees of
this Miracle on Bathurst Street looked upon the first day's more conventional
Liberal worship as singing-impaired by comparison.

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♦

Word soon spread around the city that Holy Blossom was the place to
be if you were counted in the Liberal camp. I quickly learned that people who
yearn for the same experience will contribute much toward achieving it. In
our case, the goal was t'fillah, without the usual trappings.

I then contemplated changes in the location of the choir at regular ser-
vices. I placed the professional singers close to the bimah so I could signal
them whatever needed to be conveyed in order that the prayers would flow
without interruption or pause. I replaced the organ with an amplified piano
whose sound was not as overwhelming. In an "L"-shaped grouping I arranged
between forty and fifty of our volunteer Temple Singers and mixed them with
the professional octet. Since then, this successful combination has managed
to maintain the highest standards of musical presentation, no matter what.
The volunteers regard our professionals as part of our musical family not only
on the High Holy days but throughout the year, as we sing together twice a
month on Shabbat morning, and sometimes more frequently than that.

After twenty years of this arrangement, the second day of Rosh HaSha-
nah remains the most popular service in our calendar. In unison with the
congregation we sing such complex settings as HaMelech by Baruch Schorr,
introduced by the refrain of Uv'Shofar Gadol from the Israeli Givatron rep-
ertoire, composed by a secular kibbutz member of Beit HaShita. I consider
this refrain to be one of the most expressive musical statements, for it bonds
notes and words together into a spiritual unit. We use it as a leitmotif to get
things going early on, and again later in its full arrangement where it takes
its rightful place as one of the main musical offerings of the day (Example
4).

a tempo J =

Example 4. Uv'shofar Gadol

By now, there no longer exists any separation in the Second Day service
between the three elements of congregational singing described above. The
special liturgy is laced with thought-provoking, well-edited English readings,
and heightened by communal singing of paragraphs carefully chosen to build
liturgical units. By now, the ongoing murmuring sounds of congregational

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participation which accompany the entire service due to the ever-growing
comfort level of the congregation, is sometimes subdued and other time
elevated. No matter what I chant, I make sure it is compatible with the musi-
cal capabilities of the worshipers. What I then experience is a rather inviting
sound - reminiscent of the Old World - of tsibbur joining with its shali'ach
on behalf of the entire House of Israel.

The greater success, however, I attribute to the deployment of choral
compositions that have been chosen for their immediate emotional impact.
Here in the home of passive listening (the once-accepted mode of worship
in Classical Reform) our congregants are unable to differentiate between a
choral rendition and a simple unison tune. That is because every phrase in our
choir's repertoire is meant to be sung with. Through body language I signal
for congregants to join in even when I am facing away from them, returning
the Torah scroll to the Ark and leading Lewandowsky's Uv'Nucho Yomar,
which is normally not considered a congregational tune (Example 5).

L. Lewandowski

Example 5. Ki Lekach Tov

The congregation plays its part as a mass choir when called upon to do
so. It also acts as respondent to antiphonal chant for the climactic Sh'ma-
Baruch Sheim-Adonai Hu Ha'Elohim of Neilah (Example 6).

And all the while, the worshipers of Holy Blossom provide an harmonious
diapason to the hazzan's ongoing davenen, shifting from one form of partici-
pation to another without instruction and without the slightest hesitation.
This, I think, is our greatest achievement.

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♦

Freely Chanted

f. Once - Cantor, then Cong^

Traditi

Dnal, arr. H. Gamble

She - ma Yis-ra- el

A-do - nai

E-lo-he

1 - nu A-do - nai

e - chad.

Three Times - Cantor, then Cong.

ffF

II 3.

Ba - nichshem k' vod mal-c

■a-ed le'o-lamva-ed_

Example 6. Sh'n

. ofNeilah

A member of the CA and the ACC, Benjamin Maissner chairs the Certification
Program of the American Conference of Cantors. A distinguished hazzan, teacher
and performer, he has appeared widely as guest cantor and scholar in residence
throughout North America and Europe, most recently in Hannover, Germany, to
mark the sixtieth anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz.

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Observational Articles

The Elu v'Elu ("Both/ And") of Synagogue Music -
A View from the Other Side of the Bimah
by Herbert Bronstein

The renewal of synagogue music in our time, oihazzanut, is a measure of the
viability and vitality not only of Jewish worship but of Judaism itself. However,
the transmission of that precious legacy to future generations, enhanced by
our own abilities and creativity, is today very much in question, a question
that is often contentious and divisive.

As Liberal Jews we find ourselves in the breakup of those assumptions,
styles, and outlooks of modernity to which classical reform offered the most
enthusiastic religious response. Through the Enlightenment, modernity
brought to the Jews tolerance and emancipation. The classic formulation of
modernity stood above all for the autonomy of the individual. The individual
was to be obligated only to the moral law discovered by the reason of the
individual. Today, autonomy is considered widely among Liberal Jews to
mean personal choice, freedom from any canons or principles that could in
any sense be accepted as authentic or authoritative. Radical autonomy; along
with much de novo creativity, has brought radical ambiguity and radical
plurality (as distinguished from pluralism) to all aspects of culture, including
the liturgy and music of the synagogue.

Particularly for Liberal Jews, there have been consequences of this pattern
in what might be called patternlessness. Without a norm of particular styles,
modes, or patterns indigenous to our tradition, and without regard to a sense
of shared values within our community, there has been the inevitable pres-
sure, instead, of the surrounding culture. Typically, in many areas, Reform
Judaism has become obsessed with the "latest" in our culture, only to find,
when we have caught up, that it is already becoming passe.

Earlier in our modern history; with the civil order of the West opening
to Jews, there was the deep desire among western European Jews to be ac-
cepted into the manners and civilities of the western Anglo-Saxon order of
behavior. As a result, Jewish worship was much influenced by the Protes-
tant style. Especially with regard to worship, there was a preoccupation with
decorum, dignity, distance, coolness, and formality in conformity with the
Christian cathedral ideal. The great formal sanctuary was, in part, an end

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product of that process. Along with this went the profound anxiety to be
rid of what some early reformers called "Orientalism," a term derived from
new academic fields of the nineteenth century that accompanied western
imperialism. 1 "Orientalism" was opposed to the Occident; to the West. The
Anglo-Saxon West thought of the Orient, the East ("the natives"), as back-
ward and primitive. The Anglo-Saxon Christian West would bring to these
backward cultures the refinement of a higher civilization. Western, and parts
of central European, Jewish culture, in like manner, viewed the eastern Eu-
ropean Jewish synthesis as the "Orient." In the synagogue of western Europe
this did lead to new forms of fine composition. But, at the same time, for
early reformers, the abolition of Orientalism, a motto which they often used,
meant the abolition of specific, particular Jewish traditions strange to the
West, especially those of the eastern European Jews, such as the tallit, the
shofar, the kippah, "davening." Of course, along with all this "Orientalism"
went cantillation, nusah, and, in some sectors, the art of the hazzan itself.
After all, all Jews are from the Orient. This was, then, a form, in essence, of
Jewish self-abnegation.

In general, a large number of Jews adopted the true Faith of Modernity, the
sanctification of the autonomous reason of the free individual who would,
through science and technology alone, raise up all lower orders of humanity
and bring about the millennium. But now, at the end of the twentieth century;
many assumptions of that faith have collapsed. World wars, the Holocaust,
the nuclear bomb, the instruction by the Nazis in the kinds of uses to which
reason, science and technology could be put, instruction by Freud and Marx
as to how determined by outside factors Reason itself can be, all have col-
lapsed many of the assumptions of modernity. As regards Jewry, much to
the surprise of many founders of Reform Judaism, all American Jews did not
become Reform. There was the emergence of eastern European Jewry on the

1 Max Landsberg of Temple.Brith Kodesh, Rochester, New York, one of the found-
ing congregations of the Union of American Hebrew Congregations, summed up a
widespread attitude among his colleagues in an essay published in Jewish Tidings,
Rochester, New York, September 8, 1893:

The Talmud, representing a development especially in Babylon under oriental influ-
ences, became the power ruling supreme. Rigid conservatism, a result of terrible
oppression that continued through the centuries, furthered isolation and preserved
existing conditions even in occidental countries. If indeed Judea had seemed like a
piece of the Occident in the midst of the oriental countries, now the Jews represented
orientalism in the midst of the Occident.

On the plaque honoring him in the foyer of the Temple, Rabbi Landsberg prescribed
the following: "He led his congregatian out of Orientalism."

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American scene, and of Zionism. In the general culture, increasingly, there
has been a renewed appreciation of the East and of native cultures. There
is also the trend in contemporary Jewry of renewed ethnicism, on the one
hand, and a renewed spirituality on the other, which are opposites in fact,
but which do share alone an interest in past Jewish tradition.

All this has greatly affected the situation of synagogue music. We find our-
selves in a period of both enormous creativity and also enormous Confusion.
Not only has no minhag, or shared custom, synthesis of musical modalities or
shared philosophy about synagogue music emerged among us, but there is also
no shared belief even that there should be a shared community of music.

Worse, of late, discussions on the directions of synagogue music, even in
the way the discussions have been framed, have taken the form of opposi-
tions of mutually exclusive polarities. Hostile opposition, in some instances,
has emerged, inevitably accompanied by a suspicion and disdain that impede
clarification and paralyze synthesis.

Much of the discussion of synagogue music has been framed in opposites,
Here is a partial list: vital creativity versus rooted authenticity; rootless musi-
cal spin-offs of the flash-in-the-pan a la mode against the solid and beloved
musical associations that inspire remembrance and commitment and which,
in that view, create a Jewish soul. Or to put it from the other side, the free
spirit versus the stultifying dead hand of the past, Another opposition: high
art as opposed to sincere congregational participation. And put this way, it
becomes artifice and show versus sincerity and kavvanah. Or, the opposi-
tion—yes, suspicion— between those who with all their heart and soul want
to retain a connection with historic Jewish musical modes and those who feel
that they have every reason, literally, to mock the very word "traditional" or
"authentic" and who claim that entirely new melodies in the American folk
or rock mode will be the "Sinai melodies" of the twenty-first century.

But long before Hegel's thesis, antithesis, and synthesis, ancient rabbis only
reluctantly, if ever, opted for the "either/or" but rather chose the "both/and,"
the Elu v'Elu. This was the more difficult, creative, and redemptive task of
synthesis as the way of Torah.

In one of the earliest rabbinic texts, theMekhilta, 2 the rabbis rejected either
particular Jewish tradition by itself, or universalism by itself, no matter how
humane, as authentic enduring Jewish teaching. It has long been considered
a hallmark of Judaism that, ideally, the two were to be conjoined. In t'fillah,
in prayer and worship, we know very well the rabbinic motto: neither keva by

2 Mekhilta, Pis'cha (Lauterbach ed., vol. 1, Philadelphia: 1933), pp. 7-10.

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itself nor kavvanah by itself; neither the statutory fixed pattern as the model,
nor the free creative individual expression — kavvanah alone — no matter how
sincere. Somehow, they both had to be melded. For each of these "opposites"
separated from the other could be destructive of spirituality.

As to the assumed polarity between high art and the participation of
the singing congregation: let us simply set aside the involvement of the
congregation that does take place when the cantorial art or a great musical
work sweeps up the congregation as if in a chariot of fire to the very gates
of heaven; or when the cantor breaks open the heart of the people in joy or
yearning to the influx of the divine. I am thinking rather of the kind oiyichud,
unification, of high art and familiar singable melody. This happens when
the cantor in his or her own style begins a piece, the v' shamru, for example,
with a fine modal composition or improvisation to create an expectation
which the cantor then both skillfully and soulfully resolves by bringing the
congregation into participation through a familiar, beloved, melodic, lyrical
melody. In each instance the cantorial role can be an opportunity for artistry,
whereas the congregational part is reassuringly always the same, allowing the
congregation to enter with enthusiasm and fervent worship. There can be
both artistry and participation. Both "performance" and "participation" are
subsumed, ideally, to worship.
"Performance" as Opposed to Worship

I remember a service of worship that I attended in a fine congregation with
an excellent cantor and an obviously professional well- trained quartet, which
was seated rather prominently. From the regular amud the cantor was leading
the congregation in a fine responsive piyyut, an edifying musical composi-
tion that I had never heard before. The cantor's role was finely artistic, the
congregation's part, the refrain, musically fine and at the same time eminently
singable. Sometimes the choir did interact on the verses with the cantor with-
out being conducted. While on the refrain, the cantor was obviously leading
the congregation in worship and they were singing, worshiping. For the first
three verses the mood in the sanctuary was thrilling, spiritual, joyous, and
elevated. Then suddenly the cantor left the amud and went up and directed
the quartet in a more complex musical rendition of the fourth verse. It was
artistically excellent as a performance, but it was clearly a performance, and
immediately the spiritual, emotional, affective mood of worship was gone,
over, not to be brought back. The circuit had been broken, the congregation
was no longer there and did not resume either formally or inwardly. The
congregation had been distanced from sharing and from God.

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As long as performance is subsidiary to worship, then there is no neces-
sary contradiction at all within the context of an entire service between high,
transcendent, even numinous moments and moments, on the contrary, when
the Sh'chinah is brought down into the worshiping community.

The same possibility of resolution, I contend, holds true even more in
the contentious polarization between innovation on the one hand and the
preservation of the heritage oinusach, the seasonal and holiday modes and
the Misinai melodies. Over the centuries, innovative creativity has always
enriched our worship. Wandering tunes from the middle ages — who knows,
maybe older— have found a secure resting place in the synagogue. The Baal
Shem Tov once was "said to have said" that he heard a Ukranian peasant
melody in which he recognized, as he put it, one of King David's songs, and he
liberated it from captivity by bringing it into his shtibl. On the other side, the
setting of Lechah Adonai HaG'dulah from the great BlochAvodath HaKodesh
can accompany the Torah processional on the High Holidays, especially in a
great sanctuary; with tremendous spiritual effect. But even in the very same
service, without dissonance, a properly placed and simply composed Oseh
Shalom in the folk mode, shared by the congregation in a contemplative way
at a certain time, can accomplish a wonderful religious purpose.

On the other side, the greatest danger to the future of Jewish religious life,
whether among our people or even among rabbis or cantors themselves, is
a rootlessness that lays us open to the shallow, the superficial, the banal, the
ephemeral in the culture around us. Whether in Broadway styles or in so-
called neo-traditionalism and ethnicism or the vagaries of the feely-touchy
narcissism of so-called New Age religious styles that have moved so easily into
our stream of Judaism, nowhere is this danger more real than in the music
of the synagogue. The great tradition of the modes, oinusach of cantillation,
the Misinai melodies, has endowed, and still do endow, wide sectors of Jewry
with a deep-rooted sense of community. Musical patterns and associations
make us more devoted, loving Jews with shared memory and shared hopes,
attuning the soul to its seasons, inspiring commitment. Surely, among the
greatest responsibilities of those responsible for worship is the obligation to
take responsibility for these holy treasures placed in our keeping. Like many
native cultures in the world today, like the precious flora and fauna of the rain
forests that are being destroyed moment by moment, never to be brought
to life again, these, our own resources, are in danger of disappearing forever
from among us— all because of negative aspects of secular modernity. These
are spiritual associations; they correspond with the seasons of the soul.

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It is not appropriate to sing the Avinu Malkenu on Shabbat, as is done in
some synagogues, simply because people like the melody. High Holy Day
melodic responses should be reserved for the Days of Awe and not used on
Shabbat. For a long time we gloried at our summer camps and our youth
movements in creative services. Children who found no meaning in synagogue
services did relate to the special, creative camp services. But we have paid
a price. We withheld from our young people the substance of the matbei'a
shel t'fillah, the forms and basic prayers of our liturgy, the knowledge of the
substance of our worship. We withheld from them, therefore, the great nar-
ratives of our people that our people relive in every statutory service. We
withheld from them competence in worship, and they now resent it. When
they go to college, visit other services, they discover how little they know of
the real liturgy of their own faith. The same holds true as regards musical
rootedness.

Years ago, a large group of our people from Chicago went on a special trip
for the dedication of the Unites States Holocaust Museum and experienced
many profound emotions. But the one event about which everybody com-
mented when they returned was the fact that when the congregation was
coming into Arlington Cemetery the United States Marine band played the
well-known Yigdal melody. That simple experience stirred them to their very
beings. That was their identity, their soul. It was a Yigdal based on an historic
Jewish mode.

But there need be no opposition between rootedness on the one side and
contemporaneity and creativity on the other. We cannot be slavishly bound,
certainly in music, to tradition. But there can be what I have called "creative
retrieval." Writing about liturgy, I have also used the term "resourcement"
to mean both using resources creatively and, at the same time, resourcing
ourselves in the tradition. We would consider it an act of cultural barbarity,
would we not, if we were simply to throw out entire sections of our sacred
literary texts, not turn to them for study or spiritual enhancement. We would
consider it erratic to dump or ignore aspects of Judaic culture such as the
midrashic mode of teaching and interpreting sacred texts. How can we dis-
miss, to begin with, the great old musical modes, the Misinai melodies, the
holiday or sectional musical modes of great musical traditions from the vari-
ous streams of Jewish life, Sephardic, Ashkenazic, others, that have nurtured
our souls and created Jewish religious community?

I once heard someone making fun of the idea that many people consider
the most popular folk version of the Oseh Shalom (Nurit Hirsch) to be "tra-
ditional" because it is only a few decades old. However, that setting of Oseh

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Shalom does happen to have in it elements of very old Jewish modalities and
melodic patterns. And that, do not forget, may very well have contributed to
its popularity. Cantorial borrowing from the operatic style of the nineteenth
century did not last in Jewish music; we now disdain it. But the modes of
indigenous Jewish cantorial styles have endured. As to contemporary pieces
becoming sacred as if from Sinai, that is true. In the Midwest the late Max
Janowski's Avinu Malkenu is considered almost as fundamental as the Kol
Nidre melody. But Max Janowski did base a good part of that piece directly
on older Jewish musical patterns. He was so rooted, as someone has put it,
that he could not compose in any other way. Those who are gifted, composers
in the folk mode as well, can use the modalities and melodic patterns of our
heritage for our worship.

Many years ago, in her cantata, for her time, Judith Eisenstein showed how
the Akdamut mode could be framed in a simple melody that thousands of
young people have sung, linking them to an identification of that melody with
Shavuot and the giving of the Torah. In the same way this can be done along
many lines, in a folk or other style, to enrich our spiritual life, contribute to
our heritage, and create a sense of wider community.

We need musical patterns. The loss of the sense of community is behind
much of what is ailing this society and our civilization. We have had enough
of hyper-individuality We need the kind of music and musical patterns that
create community. This was supposed to be one purpose oiShaarei Shirah, an
official anthology of Jewish music for worship. One of the original goals was
to preserve at least some of the European musical melodies for the festivals
or sectional motifs. This has never happened— at least not yet.

Only as we "deepen our stakes" in the sacred soil of our heritage — to use the
metaphor in the book of Isaiah (54:2)— will we be able, durably, "to widen the
place of our tent" even further both for more creativity and to include more
people. The deeper our rootedness, the more are we able to be creative. We
can provide synagogue music that has depth, substance, and beauty and bring
wider and wider sectors of our congregations into a musical community. We
will be able to say of this period of synagogue music and of our worship as a
whole: Mah Tovu Oholecha Ya akov, "How goodly are your tents, O Jacob,"
and add: the places where you can dwell abidingly; O Israel.

Herbert Bronstein, senior scholar at North Shore Congregation Israel in Glencoe,
IL, served as chairman of the CCAR Liturgy Committee and of the Joint Worship
Commission ofUAHC-CCAR, and as editor of the CCAR Haggadah for Passover.
This article first appeared in the Summer 1998 issue of The CCAR Journal.

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New Cantor on the Block - How a Recent Graduate
was Saved by a Congregational Melody

by Ken Richmond

Leading congregational melodies in a new congregation can be exciting and
challenging, rewarding and dangerous. I remember a man coming up to
me years ago after services and telling me in Yiddish that if I did a particular
tune for Adon Olam again, he would stab me with a banana. Congregational
melodies are a matter for the kishkes. By and large we love the melodies that
we grew up with. A few of us have a constant yearning for something new
and inspirational.

You can therefore understand my excitement and fear - as a recent gradu-
ate of the H. L. Miller Cantorial School — at starting in a new congregation
with a clean slate. After years at the Seminary, student pulpits, shul-hopping
in Jerusalem and Manhattan, learning melodies from friends and teachers, I
had developed my own style of leading a congregation in song. My new shul
- Midway Jewish Center of Syosset, NY — was also used to a style of congre-
gational singing that Cantor Morris Dubinsky had led there for twenty-four
years until his untimely death two years before my arrival. I realized during
my audition weekend that the congregation loved to sing, but that it had a
different set of melodies than the ones I preferred, and what is more, it found
them musically interesting and spiritually invigorating. I wondered, as I started
as their new cantor, if I could help bridge that gap, and how.

Our rabbi, Perry Rank, who has a beautiful voice and often harmonizes
with me from his side of the bimah, made me a helpful tape of the congre-
gation's traditional melodies, accurately sung. In addition to many of the
tunes regularly heard at Conservative shuls, camps and schools around the
country, there were some surprises. Several tunes were new to me, including
a beautiful Uv'tseil K'nafecha (Example 1). There were also several variants
of common melodies. I didn't realize how firmly the congregation stuck to
those variants until I tried to tinker with them. I quickly acquiesced to their
version of the traditional Mi Chamocha when I realized that their rendition
harmonized with mine— in parallel seconds.

The traditional SheHu Noteh Shamayim was another story. The con-
gregation would lose two beats on both m'romi m and I'va've cha,

substituting a half-note for either the held whole note or the 8-5-6-7 progres-
sion that many of us insert there to fill in the four beats. It took a couple of
months of strategizing and dueling with the congregation, but I finally got
the extra couple of beats to stick.

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u-

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Example 1. Uv'tseil K'nafecha — as heard at the Midway Jewish Center

As per advice by my mentors, I've tried to initiate change gradually, and to
repeat the new melodies for several weeks in a row until they become familiar.
I introduced the Shlomo Carlebach melody for Shiru Ladonai Shir Chadash
(the second Psalm in Kabbalat Shabbat), which has gradually caught on; it
took time and some encouragement for congregants not only to catch on to
the words but to keep singing ya-ba bai... after the words run out. I limited
myself to only one Carlebach tune so I wouldn't overwhelm the congrega-
tion with change and also so I wouldn't have to do an all-Carlebach service
every week.

I generally tried to introduce melodies where they wouldn't take away some-
thing that the congregation had sung for years. For L'cha Dodi, I kept their
traditional melody but began to add a second one for either the first or second
half. I added some tunes for Mikolot Mayim Rabim, at the end of Psalm 93.
Where the congregation had sung the same tune for Mizmor L' David (Psalm
29) on Friday nights and Saturdays, I kept the traditional Major melody for
Saturday and added the Sephardic tune on Friday nights. The first time I did
it, it took at least half-way through the Psalm before the congregation realized
they were singing the second tune in a kind of strange harmony against the
new one. This too caught on, I think in part because we kept their version on
Saturday morning. Without sacrificing cherished congregational melodies,
I tried gradually to make the service more my own.

Two recent Friday night services showed me how far the congregation
and I have moved in just six months towards a common ground. First, we

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had a Womens League Friday night service led by the Women of Midway. I
thought they would be delighted to let all the melodies revert back to what
they were before I arrived. Instead, while they didn't include all of my changes
in melodies and nusach, they did meet me halfway. They asked my wife to
lead them in the Sephardic Mizmor L'David, and two women led the Carle-
bach Psalm 96, including an enthusiastic chorus oiya-ba bai. Theya-ba bai
refrain kept cropping up throughout the service, mostly from their enjoyment
in singing the nigunim, I think, and perhaps to poke a bit of fun at me in a
good-natured way. That service also taught me one or two melodies that I
didn't know, which I've tried to include subsequently.

The Friday night after that was Shabbat Shirah, for which we did a klezmer
service called L'chu N'ran'na, written by myself with some assistance from
my wife, Shira Shazeer. It had been my senior project at JTS, written under
the tutelage of Hazzan Charles Davidson, and it included about twenty new
melodies. At the Seminary last spring, we had done the Kabbalat Shabbat
section with instruments, before candle-lighting time, but now, with the early
nightfall of January, we went A Cappella from the beginning.

I had taught the melodies to the choir, many with two or three-part
harmony. Two t'fillot were officially choir pieces; for the rest, the choir was
supposed to help the congregation in singing the new melodies. I held a
single-session crash course for congregants, gave music to a few musicians
among the membership, and asked the Religious School music teacher to
prepare the children in a few of the tunes. I also began introducing a handful
of the melodies on previous Friday nights. Still, I wondered, how would the
congregation respond to all these new melodies at once?

Most people enjoyed it very much (or so they told me) and were able to
catch on to quite a few of the melodies. It was liberating for me to be able to
use the new melodies as a group at last, after having gone so slowly with them
previously. At the same time, I realized the importance of the congregation
feeling comfortable with the melodies and with me. Several people who hadn't
realized it would be a special service of new music asked nervously "if services
were like this every week." The minor changes that the women had included
in their services the previous week would be more reliable barometers of the
effect I was having on the congregation than the radical changes on Shabbat
Shirah. Since that service, I've introduced one or two of my new melodies at
a time, so that I'll be able to rotate them with the known melodies, and we're
planning to try the klezmer service again in Daylight Savings months when
we can use instruments for Kabbalat Shabbat. Example 2 shows my wife's

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♦

SheHu Noteh Shamayim, a setting that avoids the problem of two-beat or
four-beat measures altogether, and Example 3 is my setting of Yigdal.

I've been focusing mainly on Shabbat, but I want to close with a few words
- and a story — about the High Holidays. Congregational singing on Yamim
Nora'im is, of course, extremely important, but it can present challengf

Example 2. Si ira Z. Shazeer

Concurrent services are one. While Rabbi Rank and I officiate in one room,
a guest rabbi and cantor are officiating in another, and leading a totally differ-
ent repertoire of tunes. Acoustics can be problematic; our "West Chapel" is
really a gym, and sound dies in the rear of the main sanctuary. The number
of people present will dictate if congregational singing is even possible at a
given moment, not to mention the interplay between cantorial, choral and
congregational elements.

Because this was my first year, I took a few precautions to insure that I
wouldn't be singing the congregational melodies all by myself. First, I blurred

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Example 3. Yigdal — by Ken Richmond, 2004

the line between congregation and choir by teaching the choir tunes that I'd
earmarked for congregational singing, and added a second voice as harmony.
The choir, which accompanied me in both rooms, then helped "seed" the new
melodies. As with Shabbat Shirah, I held a crash course and handed out CDs
of the High Holiday tunes. What complicated everything even further was
the fact that his was the first time I led services using the Silverman Machzor.
My JTS classmate Sam Levine, who had led a full Silverman service for years,
taught me workable congregational melodies for several piyyutim that I had
never led before.

Mine was among an increasing number of Conservative synagogues that
have retained (or restored) the traditional duchanen (Priestly Benediction)
from the bimah during the High Holidays, and so we scheduled a meeting
to review the ancient ritual's choreography with all parties involved: rabbi;
cantor; Kohanim; and Leviyim. On the day of the meeting I realized that I
couldn't remember a single duchanen nigun! The only time I had witnessed
Kohanim — shrouded in their tallitot and blessing the kahal with their arms
raised — was in Israel, and I could only remember a few bars of the melody
from the packet of special material that the late Hazzan Max Wohlberg had
prepared for students. Worse yet, I hadn't finished unpacking, and couldn't
locate my Wohlberg packet, my class notes or my Zamru Lo. I turned to
Hazzanet with a plea for anyone to please sing a duchanen nigun into my
answering machine.

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♦

I was at shul teaching B'nei Mitzvah at the time, but at home my wife listened
in amazement as the answering machine filled up with Priestly Blessing ni-
gunim recorded by friends, colleagues, and teachers from around the country.
I ended up using one that Sam Levine had left on my machine (Example 4).

Example 4. Duchanen Nigun — heard from Sam Levine

I taught it not only to the Kohanim, but to the choir as well, and this enabled
everyone to catch on. That snippet of a tune, started impromptu to the filler
syllables ai-ai ai by a group of barefooted Kohanim, turned into one of the
best congregational singing moments of the Yamim Nora'im. The simple folk
melody - led by cantor, choir, Kohanim and Levi'im and sung joyously by
young and old alike - connected us all with our collective past. It was a true
Zecher I'Mikdash, a remembrance of the Temple Rite, marked by a reverent
hush that descended over the sanctuary.

Ken Richmond graduated as hazzanfrom the H.L. Miller Cantorial School of the
Jewish Theological Seminary in 2004. A composer and violinist, he also serves on
the Rabbinical Assembly committee preparing anew High Holiday Machzorfor
the Conservative movement.

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A British- Accented Voice from the Pews

By Philip Lachman

My name is Philip Lachman and I'm from London, UK. I am a total layman
and unfamiliar with cantorial singing other than the occasional concert. The
services I attend are either at a small Orthodox synagogue where they scrape
together a minyan and everyone takes an active role in the service— doing
everything from opening the Ark, Torah blessing, lifting, binding, etc. (and
frequently doing it more than once!). Periodically I will visit a non-Orthodox
synagogue with a horrible choir that sings several octaves too high and thinks
it is performing The Pirates of Penzance.

On grand occasions in a place like the Spanish/Portuguese Bevis Marks
Synagogue, participation can be as much through listening as through sing-
ing — and who would want to hear
my voice trying to compete with
Hazzan Adam Musikant! Given
the correct frame of mind, sound
alone (however unfamiliar) can
create the hypnotic effect that is
both spiritual and uplifting, and
that is what I experienced at Be-
vis Marks. For those of you who
are unfamiliar with the place let
me tell you that in my opinion it
is the most interesting shul in the
UK — though I'm not sure I should
be using the Ashkenazi word 'shul'
when referring to a Sephardi syna-
gogue!

Electric light is scantily used in
Bevis Marks. Instead, huge cande-
labras dominate the interior, and these candelabra contain real candles which
are lit when required. The effect is magical. The walls surrounding the ladies'
gallery are hung with plaques listing the names of synagogue officials dat-
ing back 300 years. And what exotic names they are— Carvalho, Mesquita,
Nabarro, Pereira — quite different from Ashkenazi names. Next time you are
in London, you now know which shul you must visit.

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Anyway, to music - 1 attended a Selichot Service at Bevis Marks Synagogue
in 2003 and was treated to some wonderful and very distinctive singing. For
me, music in a service creates a mood that no amount of pious staring at a
siddur can replicate. To understand the words is secondary to feeling the
emotion, and what an awesome responsibility it must be to lead the music
at a synagogue service.

That particular Selichot sevice was a unique experience for me. The shul — or
rather the Sephardi word for it, 'esnoga'— was packed, and bathed in the
warm yellow glow that is peculiar to candlelight. The congregation consisted
of members from the remaining Ashkenazi East End shuls, members of the
Bevis Marks Synagogue and assorted 'distinguished' invitees. The music was
fairly unfamiliar to me, but again, this didn't matter because it was thrilling
just being there. The cantorial singing was hauntingly beautiful.

In December 2004 I was back at Bevis Marks to attend a concert entitled
A Sephardi Celebration by Candlelight', which marked the launch of their
ongoing project to preserve and develop the musical heritage of the Spanish
and Portuguese Jews' Congregation in London. This is what I wrote about
the concert on my website:

A wonderful evening of choral music was presented by the choir of the Spanish
and Portuguese Jews' Congregation of London on the evening of 4 December
2004. As an Ashkenazi Jew I found many of the tunes unfamiliar, but not the
message. The highlight for me was 'El Norah Alilah'-sung in front of the Ark
by a superbly trained choir of men and boys. The traditions of the Spanish and
Portuguese branch of Sephardi Jews go back to before the tragic expulsion from
Spain in 1492. This concert was a living link to those days...
Meanwhile, my wife has fallen in love with their honorary Cantor, Adam
Musikant, whose stunning good looks and even more stunning voice are
earning him a world-wide reputation!

When in the presence of talented voices I am aware of my own
limitations. That is not to say that everyone else is of like mind. I have been
at services where the most talented of musicians were accompanied by the
murmur of a tone deaf, out of tempo congregation discussing the previous
night's TV! A solemn service should be just that— a setting where an intense
feeling of spirituality is generated. The rhythm of the words, the song and
the psalm should pervade your being and blot out all else. For me it is not
necessary to vocalize in order to participate.

Attending Selichot at Bevis Marks Synagogue— led by musicians of great
talent, in some unfamiliar tunes — I knew when to keep quiet! This in no way
detracted from my involvement with the service. On the other hand I have

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been at much less formal Orthodox Services where movement around the
sanctuary, random standing up and sitting down and generally doing things
in your own time and at your own pace is the order of the day. In such a setting
I am perfectly happy to join in as loudly or quietly as the mood takes me.

In the often more formal setting of non-Orthodox worship a mixed choir
is a familiar site and sound. Some choirs I have witnessed think they are
performing opera and they do it at a pace and pitch that does not encourage
communal participation — not good!! On the other hand some choirs know
their proper function: to enhance the service and provide a professional
foundation for congregational singing. The Liberal Jewish Synagogue in St
John's Wood, London has the mix about right.

As for my personal allegiances, I am a member of a non-Orthodox syna-
gogue but spend alternate Shabbatot attending an Orthodox Synagogue —
which causes confusion for some. When asked why I do this, my answer is
that I like the tradition and ritual of the Orthodox service, but also like the
musical variety and inclusivity of the non-Orthodox service. Go figure!

What I prefer most of all is the intimacy and lack of formality you find in
the remaining Orthodox shuls of London's East End. They have a purity and
simplicity that for me is very involving and very fulfilling. Fieldgate Street
'Great' Synagogue is my favorite, a shul that couldn't be more different than
Bevis Marks.

As for the future of Jewish Music in the UK, cantorial and klezmer con-
certs are sold out. For this we have to thank the Jewish Music Institute (ably
directed by Geraldine Auerbach) who are major promoters of Jewish Music
here. The musicians themselves are getting younger (rather like policemen...)
and music from across the Jewish (and non-Jewish) world is being used in
ever more innovative ways in synagogue services. I've always that known
Adon Olam can be sung to just about any tune (my favourite is to William
Blake's Jerusalem - try it, it works). But hearing it sung on the Bimah by a
'barbershop' quintet (not quartet) to the combined tunes of Rhapsody in Blue
and Swanee River was something else!

For those visiting London, be sure to attend a Shabbat service at Bevis
Marks— but be warned; their Shabbat Morning service starts early, around
8 a.m. Do also visit some of the remaining Synagogues in London's East End.
For a special musical and architectural treat visit the Liberal Jewish Syna-
gogue in St John's Wood to enjoy their magnificent choir and historically
land-marked building.

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Meanwhile, Jewish life (and music) in all its diversity is alive and well in
the UK!

While not shul-hopping on his 'midlife motorbike, retired businessman Philip Lachman
runs a website -http://olamgadol.pwp.blueyonder.co.uk/Jewishthumbnails.html
- that features thumbnail photos with commentary on what's doing in the Jewish
East End of London.

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Lights, Camera, Chazzones!- A Director's Cut

By Erik GreenbergAnjou

I walked away from any form of functional, normative shul-going Judaism
immediately after my Bar Mitzvah ceremony at Beth Sholom Congregation
in Elkins Park, a suburb just north of Philadelphia. I had fulfilled what my
religion and parents dictated as mandatory. It was thus forward to the more
germane and important (or so I believed) streams of my life: prep school,
athletics, and the concomitant achievements that would lead to an elite col-
lege and beyond.

So, who I am some twenty-seven years later, to be producing and direct-
ing a documentary film about hazzanut (or the Yiddish term chazzones, as
it's referred to in the film) and, by virtue of association — congregational
singing?

The long-time editor at Scribner's, Maxwell Perkins, once commented
to Ernest Hemingway while visiting him in the Florida Keys that the author
should write about his obvious passion for that milieu. Hemingway's response
was essentially - I will, when I know it inside and out. Only then will I be
ready. Hemingway's ultimate literary response, of course, was The Old Man
and the Sea.

I'm not claiming to have produced a hazzanic corollary to The Old Man.
Nor do I pretend to say I know my subject matter encyclopedically. In fact,
it's as much artistic boldness as acumen that has allowed me to enter the
domain of synagogue music.

The contemporary rap against classic cantorial music is that it's always the
same. It's old-fashioned. It's long. It's bombastic. It doesn't include a partici-
patory congregation that wants to clap and sing alongside. In essence, the
complaint is that hazzanut no longer relates to our American spin on Jewish
life. If true, that assessment at best would be debilitating, at worst, tragic.
For no matter on what side of the hazzanic fault line one stands, a cantor's
chant remains the most direct connect to congregational singing. It cues it,
leads into it - without prior announcement -which dampens its spontaneity.
Cantor Jack Mendelson, who stands at the dramatic center of my movie A
Cantor's Tale, recently shared something with me after a class he had taught
at JTS. "Anybody who grew up singing in synagogue choirs," he said, "is still
a synagogue Jew."

Jack's observation cut to the quick of the hazzanic imbroglio. During the
making of the documentary, I'd been afforded a wonderful, variegated journey

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across the denominational spectrum and its divides; from the black-hatted
ardor of Temple Beth El in Brooklyn's Borough Park section to the sunny new
sanctuary of H.U.C. on West 4 th Street in lower Manhattan, where I sometimes
felt passe for lack of body piercings. I met Alan Dershowitz, Matthew Lazar,
Lawrence Hoffman, Joseph Malovany, Ron Rifkin, Faith Steinsnyder, Jackie
Mason, Ben-Zion Miller, Debbie Friedman, Simon Spiro, and Noach Schall,
amongst many others. Over the course of numerous interviews, colloquies
and debates, it became clear that the individual speaker's relationship to the
deep understructure of classical (for lack of a better word) hazzanut and
its retinue of choral settings had a direct, almost transcendent effect on his
contemporary devotional practice and affinities.

Okay. So nothing new here, right? You grew up listening to Elvis or Benny
Goodman or Sinatra, you grow old still loving and crooning the same music.
However. What's interesting in the context of A Cantor's Tale is that the film's
very premise is an empiric contradiction of the jeremiad that hazzanut is
the enemy of congregational singing. In fact, I discovered the opposite to be
true; hazzanut is the catalyst for the most inspired, soulful, well crafted, and
sublime congregational singing there is. Ask any one of Cantor Mendelson's
"shul Jews." Or better yet, go to a traditional service and listen to them daven.
Let the tingles prick the back of your neck - maybe even your heart of hearts
- as a cantorial "set-up" teases them into the modal bridge for Mimkomcha
or Modim. It is not the music of another time and place. It is the music of
here and now.

It's now time for me to come out of the closet. I'm a member of Congrega-
tion B'nai Jeshurun (home of "The BJ Experience") in Manhattan. I also live
two blocks away from the so-called Carlebach Shul, and often attend services
there as well. I do believe that both BJ and Carlebach are special places, and
offer important models for the way music can touch and elevate a congre-
gation. When you can step into each of those shuls on any given Kabbalat
Shabbat or Shabbat service and have difficulty finding a seat... They're doing
something very right. What I find distasteful, and rail against with complete
lack of penitence, is the fact that these synagogues have re-defined, even
co-opted, the current, idiomatic definition of congregational singing and/or
participation.

In seven cases out of ten, worshipers at the BJ or Carlebach services are

familiar with the respective
sical patterns. Those melodi
three services, a relative nov

nstitutions' well-established melodies and mu-
es are not often complex. In one, two, perhaps
ice can catch the specific liturgical wave and feel

comfortable within its curl. The soon-emerging fact is that everyone can be

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at shul and sing. Everyone can know the tune and participate. Everyone can
attend a service and feel safe knowing that the music they love is structurally
embedded in their experience. And if one's Hebrew is not at a level where one
can engage the literal text, there are abundant lacunae where yai-dee-dai-ing
one's way through is perfectly acceptable, if not invited.

Are people singing? Yes. Is that singing stirring? Very often it is. Are the
congregants "connecting?" Like anywhere else; sometimes yes, sometimes no.
Is what they're doing congregational singing? Absolutely not. It's merely jingle
memorization. See the Golden Arches, regurgitate the song. Page 254. Click
on icon and go. Service in and service out, the jingle will remain the same.

As you the reader have already gleaned, I harbor my own personal pre-
dilections about cantorial music, what it can be, and where it can lead. I
am forty-three years old. I grew up playing football on Shabbos and eating
Taylor's pork roll. Today, I still love football - on appropriate afternoons. The
tra/cuisine has disappeared. And I go to bed at night listening to recitatives
by Hershman and Rosenblatt. What's wrong with this picture? What's right
with this picture? Who am I to hector you about the way liturgical music is
"meant" to serve God?

My hope is that my movie addresses many of these questions, as does Can-
tor Mendelson's own unique Jewish journey. What I discovered ineluctably
through A Cantor's Tale is the majestic role that hazzanut plays - and has
played - in the Jewish experience. How the music soars, aches, and pierces
in ways I simply didn't have the chance to engage as a child. During the film-
ing, we followed Jack into delis, restaurants and bakeries through the length
and breadth of Borough Park. He would begin singing. The man across the
counter would respond. In melody. Or in harmony. To any number of sublime
settings. The musical acumen and fluidity of these laymen were nothing short
of staggering. It's through these devotees - not B'nai Jeshurun, or Carlebach,
or any number of like shuls - that I've come to understand the true essence
of congregational participation.

Ultimately a film - like a song, a painting, a poem - is a jail-broke child
sprung out on its own in the world. I may have fashioned the work with my
own intentions. But it's yours - the viewer's - own personal apprehension
that rules the day. If I may offer one prayer for the project that's filled my life
for over two years, it's that hazzanut will be an open invitation to modern
rabbis, cantors, and congregations alike to actively re-engage the text, the
service, and its innumerable musical possibilities. As Jews, we have a retinue
of active choices ahead of us. Do we want to dumb down the shul experience
in order to ensure that we never risk losing a potential new body who might

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otherwise opt for a New York Knicks' game on Friday night; or do we want
to use the music in a way that would inspire congregants - and kids — and
their teachers - to reach higher.

Agraduate ofMiddlebury College, Northwestern University and the American Film
Institute, Erik Greenberg Anjou has written and directed films in both the feature
and documentary realms. In addition to the currently showing documentary - The
Cantor's Tale, distributed by Ergo Media and discussed in this Journal's Review
section - he's produced The Cool Surface (Columbia Tri-Star Pictures) and Road
to Ruin (Canal Plus).

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Caught on Hazzanet - Views from Cyberspace

By Richard Berlin

Hazzanet has been up and running for some time now and has proven itself
to be an invaluable tool for those of us on line together. As one who reads and
posts on Hazzanet regularly, I can attest that the assistance available is ever
growing with: help in locating specific musical pieces, help with last minute
congregational requests for educational offerings, help with concert planning,
help with Torah readings, help with the daily minutiae that we hazzanim
encounter every day. And many new - and old topics - show up regularly.

For those who have not had the opportunity (the computer challenged
among us), this article will try to highlight some of the ways that Hazzanet is
used to advance our professional lives. First, here is a little cerebral context
to understand what you are about the read. Despite what our teachers would
have us think, the human brain does not function in a purely rational way
- moving from one idea up or down and very precisely organized content
outline or hierarchy of necessary logic. In fact, we think in what computer
folks call Hyperlinking. When "stuff" 1 enters our consciousness, it rolls around
in our thought processes until it finds a memory to which we can relate that
stuff. Along the way, any number of unrelated or tangentially related ideas
may surface. That's what Hyperlinking is, in the individual brain.

In this context, we can thing of Hazzanet as being a "meeting of minds," a
hyperlinking place in cyberspace where the stuff that rolls around (about any
idea) comes around. What follows offers a case in point: an innocent query
that led to previously unthinkable (or at least previously unspoken) extensions
of congregational singing activity.

The Kol Nidre "String" 2

To see this hyperlinking in operation, along with its value, we will examine
some of the responses to a particular inquiry posted on Hazzanet in Septem-

1 The word "stuff" is being used here as a semanticist would use it, i.e., to refer to
any idea, thought, concept, perception, or content we might be cogitating.

2 A "string"(also known as a "thread") includes all of the comments on a single
idea and all of the branches that derive from that initial idea. If what you are about
to read sometimes seems disconnected, attribute that to the time it takes to respond
online. Each of the emails above are listed only according to the time and date they
were received.

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ber of 2004 - when all of us were inundated with preparation for the Yamim
Noraim. What you will see are messages to and from the hazzanim who re-
sponded to, commented on, or otherwise mentioned that initial "posting." 3
Their names — actually initials — have been changed to preserve anonymity
and to maintain focus on the issues being raised.

The initial posting came as a common on-line request:
From: "HAS" Subject: Kol Nidrei w/accomp.

Can anyone recommend a good arrangement of Kol Nidrei w/accompani-
ment for baritone? Need to come up with a good one - soon, me thinks. ;) 4

I think I have something by Lewandowsky and Binder, but wondered if
someone had something better for the voice part. Thanks, H.A.S.

From: "JAR". Subject: RE: Kol Nidrei w/accomp.

Dear All,

It isn't quite what H.A.S. requested, BUT..... a couple of years ago, I made
an arrangement of Putterman's Kol Nidre for cantor, keyboard and 'cello, with
a part that can be played by a good high-school player. It's in g minor, but I
have it in Finale 5 and could transpose it down if there are several requests for
one key. I've posted .pdf files 6 on our website, - www. website address deleted.
Enjoy! L'Shana Tova, J.A.R.

From: SPS Subject: Baseball or Kol Nidre?

3 "Posting" means writing and sending an email message to the "Dis
Cantors Assembly." For more information about getting onto Hazzanet, email Carey
Cohen, the current Hazzanet administrator, at:hazacohl@aol.com

4 This symbol - ";)" - is a "wink and a smile."

5 Finale is one of several applications for composing and creating printable music.
There has been an ongoing Hazzanet discussion about which application (or some
people use the word "program" instead of "application") of this type is better. The
two main contenders are Finale and Sibelius. The JSM uses Sibelius (which can open
Finale files, though Finale will not open Sibelius files). The choice between the two
programs is a personal preference - whichever one people started with is generally
the one peope prefer. These programs also do a lot of other musical things, but that's
for another article or a convention session.

6 A "pdf" file is a type of computer document that can be opened on any computer,
using a free application called Adobe Acrobat.

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You may not have noticed the problem facing area Jews this September.
The upcoming critical Red Sox - Yankees series at Fenway Park starts the
same night as Kol Nidre, the solemnest time of the Jewish calendar. This has
put many local fans into a quandary.

A very distressed Red Sox fan goes to his rabbi.

"Rabbi," he says, "I don't know what to do. I know that tomorrow night is
Kol Nidre, but the Red Sox are playing the Yankees and Pedro Martinez is
pitching."

The rabbi smiles. "That's alright. It's for nights like this that God invented
VCRs."

"Really?" the man said,- his face lighting up, "I can tape Kol Nidre?"

From: "CRW " Subject: Re: Baseball or Kol Nidre?

Very cute!

I actually have a couple who recorded my first Kol Nidrei and Y"K service,
and told me that every year thereafter they listen to it instead of having to
fight the crowd at the shul. This way they also abide by the rule of the MA-
HARIL 7 that we are not permitted to change the musical tradition of the
Yamim Noraim. :-)) 8

From: "HJC" Subject: Commentary on Yom Kippur

[HJC shared his congregational bulletin article about his upcoming Yamim
Noraim services with the rest of Hazzanet, if anyone cared to use parts of it
for their own congregations. As part of his multi page article, HJC wrote this
sentence to his congregants:] "I ask you to amplify my voice by singing the
third Kol Nidrei together with me..." H.J.C.

From: "HSW" Subject: Re: Commentary on Yom Kippur

Interesting concept; does it work? Do your congregants sing along? Any

other colleagues that encourage singing along with Kol Nidre? (Is there a

[sing-along] version?) H.S.W.

7 MAHARIL is an acronym for Moreinu HaRav Yaakov Levi Moellin, halachic
authority for all of German-speaking Jewry in the early 15 th century.

8 Another one of those email symbols (usually jocular in nature) that save keystrokes;
in this case, it is a broadly smiling face. To figure out what these symbols represent, try
looking at them after you rotate the page 90° clockwise.

175

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From: "HBK'Subject: Fw: Re: Commentary on Yom Kippur
I had the choir join me 2nd time around in unison. By the 3rd time around,
the congregation was singing as well. It was very effective. H.B.K

From: "HEB" Subject: Re: Commentary on Yom Kippur

Not to be a cynic or anything close but all of us that ask the congregation
to join in the Kol Nidre have stripped ourselves to the "bare bones" and have
nothing left to be called "hazzanim." Most of us have given up the Shabbat
Service by now and now this?

Is [the] H.L. Miller School wasting the students' time and money in teach-
ing all the beauty of our tradition and the skills of our profession?

G-mar Tov to all! H.E.B.

From: "HNF"Subject: Re: Commentary on Yom Kippur

Ask any of those congregants to come up and lead it. See how far they

From: "HJC" Subject: Re: Commentary on Yom Kippur

[Dear "HSW" - in response to your question [about]: "I ask you to amply
my voice by singing the 3rd Kol Nidrei together with me." Interesting concept,
"HJC"; does it work? Do your congregants sing along? Any other colleagues
that encourage singing along with Kol Nidre?]

This is the 2nd year that we have done this. I think that it worked better
this year than last, in the sense that more people were engaged in it.

I have come to the conclusion that some High Holiday enterprises require
1-3 years to develop.

I didn't receive any complaints. I think that it was a valuable experience
for many people, and I think that it's inspiring for people to hear Kol Nidrei
from everywhere.

A lot of my efforts have been directed toward engaging the congregation
more deeply in the act of tefillah — or at least singing — throughout the
holiday.

Sol Zim's and Moshe Schulhof 's session at the Convention provided some
materials that I used. And, in response to my experiences with the Spirituality

176

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Institute for Cantors, I adapted a Carlebach melody and used it as a nigun
throughout the high holidays, and then for Sh'ma Koleinu.

These holidays were incredibly fulfilling for me and, I believe, for my con-
gregation.

I was able to sing throughout as never before. I was in better voice at the
end of the 2nd day of Rosh Hashanah than in most concerts I have ever
sung. Similarly, I had complete strength and range at the end of Yom Kip-
pur - despite the fact (or was it because of the fact) that I hadn't held back
throughout either holiday.

I felt that the big difference was the spirituality experiences that I have had
in the last 2 years. I felt so open inside (I've always felt pretty open inside,
but this is a quantum leap) — and some of the techniques and experiences
enabled me to float over petty irritations that might have been holding me
back in the past...

Best wishes all for a deeply joyful Sukkot holiday. H.J.C.

From: "HEE" Subject: Re: Commentary on Yom Kippur

I'm at a synagogue with a volunteer choir that had no direction for the
last 10 years that I worked with since the summer. I had them come in on
select words in the 2nd Kol Nidrei and told them to sing as much as they
could/wanted in the 3rd, and congregants started singing along a bit in the
2nd and at least 1/3 of the congregation was singing for at least big chunks
ofthe3rdone. H.E.E.

From: "HEP" Subject: After Yom Kippur Will Things Really Change

Dear Chazzanim,

So many of us middle-aged members find ourselves between the brave
competence of our founding members and the slow but deliberate erosion
of our noble craft... the erosion of traditional hazzanut... the erosion of pro-
fessionalism.... We feel ourselves marooned but not disabled on an island of
cantorial capitulation.

We have quarantined ourselves as if we have biblical leprosy. We are dis-
heartened, suspicious, but not hibernating. ..We must reawaken ourselves
and others to serve as a catalyst for rejuvenating the ancient modes in our
younger members.

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♦

I pray that members over 50 and about to retire will join me in trying to
reinvigorate and evoke the memories of our earlier members that so many
younger members never delighted in. Some of them, (no fault of their own)
are becoming inspired by the untrained freeloaders and self-promoters, who
panhandle our sacred music and calling. Who persuade us to dismantle our
art by offering up the recitation of Kol Nidre like it was three self-indulgent
meals.

On Yom Kippur with a full professional choir we chanted the Kol Nidre
up a half step for each of the repetitions. We chanted Weisgal, Naumbourg,
Rosenblatt, Lewandowski, Sulzer, and many other great masters. The Shema
Koleinu and others were original in the correct nusach in contemporary
settings.

Respectfully, H.E.P

From: "HRW" Subject: Re: Commentary on Yom Kippur

Dear H.E.P.,

I tend to feel the way you do. I thought to myself: the next thing, they'll
be singing the Malei with us too. But to be fair to the other side, there is a
major difference here. Kol Nidrei is done three times, so this lends to some
creativity and innovative contrast. If you said the congregation was singing
it with you all three times, I would be very much concerned. H.RW

From: "HDS" Subject: Re: Fw: Re: Commentary on Yom Kippur

My choir (15 dedicated volunteers rehearsed to within an inch of their lives)
sang a traditional Kol Nidre with me pianissimo for the first recitation, I was
solo for the second, and they repeated the piece forte for the third. I told them
that with the first recitation, they should think about evoking memories, and
with the third, think about their roles as shlichei tzibbur, and about the power
of words (the theme of Kol Nidre) and the power of music (why we do what we
do). The effect was tremendous, and by the third time through, I could hear
congregants joining in on some of the familiar themes. It was a joy. We also
added a very traditional, old-school Hashkiveinu and Shema Koleinu to the
mix this year, and my little choir was spectacular. My congregation is made
up of some people who only remember this kind of music from their youth,
and others who have never heard classical synagogue music, only sing-along
stuff. The reaction from a wide cross section of shul goers (regulars as well as
the three-day-a-year crowd) was electric. I think that what [HEP] is praying

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for is not only possible, but is in the cards. If we choose our music well, and
deliver it spectacularly, congregants would have to be made of stone to not
be affected and want more. I have always felt that we live in a wonderful age
as far as liturgical music is concerned. When else in Jewish musical history
could a hazzan sing his/her heart out with a traditional recitative, and then
use the emotion and spirituality that the classical idiom has dredged up to
light a fire under the kahal who then can't help but sing the last line or the
next paragraph with gusto, using the most modern but still nusach appropri-
ate congregational tune. That, to me, is nusach America, and one that I think
we, as the vanguard of cantors with feet planted firmly in both the old and
new worlds, are able to pull off effectively and with style. The goal is to whet
Jews' appetites for good and effective synagogue music that draws equally
from old and new traditions, all in the interest of creating the kind of honest
kavvanah that makes people need to come to shul in spite of themselves.
H.D.S.

From: "HRW" Subject: Re: After Yom Kippur Will Things Really

Change

Dear H.E.P.,

I really like what you say and certainly know where you are coming from.
The problem is that the complexion of the congregation in today's world has
drastically altered. The change, good or bad, has a major impact on what is
being done. We may reawaken ourselves and even our young colleagues, but
what about our congregations?! They don't want to sit more than an hour and
that's it. I don't know about anybody else, but at one point, I thought it was
Pesach; we had a mass Exodus right after the rabbi's sermon, and an even
greater Exodus after the Yizkor service. (And we have a professional choir
and organ which are excellent).

Do you really think those people want to sit and listen to the masters? We
have a serious problem. This extends right across all of our denominations.
Though the true orthodox daven all day, they certainly aren't interested (for
the majority; I know there are exceptions) in listening to real chazzones. To
them it is a distraction. Again, I am very aware of the few minor exceptions.
As far as a response, solution or remedy, I have no answer. We have col-
leagues who may have some very good responses. I'm sure HXY [a hazzan
renowned for old-fashioned hazzanut], for one, could come up with a very
valuable response.

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♦

I believe this is an issue which confronts us all. Perhaps we can address this
at our Convention in May. It certainly is one that needs to be addressed.
HRW

From: "HSB" Subject: Re: Commentary on Yom Kippur
I have always encouraged the congregation to sing along with Kol Nidre.
I've always done the very traditional one, a capella. Usually, no one sings on
the first one, some are singing on the second one and most are singing by the
third. I find the most kavvanah when the congregation is with me. After all,
we are all in this together, and I find that when we enable our congregants
to daven by davening with them, that our collective energy works at its best.
Many congregants over many years have told me that they were very moved
by the experience of singing/davening WITH the Hazzan. H.S.B.

From: "HSM" Subject: Kol Nidre

Chevre:

It has been interesting and somewhat enlightening to read so many reac-
tions to and ideologies about the chanting of Kol Nidre. Yet, in reading the
reactions of some colleagues whom I am quite familiar with as well as those
whom I have never met, I've become a bit perplexed. As both a "young"
recent graduate of the JTS, and as a dedicated student of three of our more
well known and respected colleagues, I feel compelled to respond to the past
few days of comments. I hope that I am not insulting anybody, as I am sure
no insult is intended by the other writers (I hope).

Yes, we the hazzanim are standing before the congregation, flanked by two
Torahs, and we are chanting from our hearts, building up to a crescendo in
volume, pitch and kavvanah as we repeat Kol Nidre three times. But if the
congregation feels moved to sing along, especially those members of the con-
gregation who may be experiencing this service for at least their seventieth
time (yes, my congregation is not a young one), then who are we to stop them
in the midst of their expression of prayer?

We are leading and representing the congregation in prayer, are we not?
When I commented that the congregation "sings along" with me all three
times, whether or not invited, I was not inferring that it is done as a "sing
along"... but rather that many members of the congregation appear to be
moved to join in for some part of the chanting... especially the "Sh'veekeen
Sh'veeteen b'teileen Um'vutaleen" phrases.

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♦

The reaction and participation of the congregation does not cause me to
cringe or to leer at them until they stop. It does not compel me to slow down,
speed up, or to change the direction of the phrase in order to "lose them"...
On the contrary: the energy created and shared within the sanctuary builds
up throughout the chanting of Kol Nidre... the "tone" (so to speak) is set...the
kavvanah, in every sense of the word, is heartfelt, emotional, quite moving.

Most moving experiences evoke a human response which is audible. This
audible human response is a shared reflection of remembrance, one of shar-
ing that which has been building up inside for a year of anticipation, a year
of trying to live justly, a year of dealing with success and with failure, a year
of affecting and accepting life as it has been personally experienced. It is a
response of remembrance and of atonement.

If this Jewish audible response is one of chanting along with the hazzan,
then I do not believe that it is wrong for the congregation to feel moved to
musical expression.

As hazzanim we stand upon the bimah and chant the prayers through
that which moves our hearts and our voices; the source and the mode of
our expression are combined through liturgy and hazzanut. Chanting is not
a "performance"... it is prayer. Let's not lose sight of that. B'shalom:

H.S.M.

From: "HSB" Subject: Re: Kol Nidre "sing along"

Chevre:

Just because people sing along with the cantor does not in any way diminish
the cantor's leadership or role or inspiration. On the contrary, when people
are "moved" enough by the cantor's rendition to sing along, the cantor is
giving the best example of what the cantor could and should be doing in and
for the congregation. H.S.B.

Summary

There you have it - the hyperlinking of the hazzanic mind, set free through
the magic of Hazzanet. From a simple question "does anyone have another
tune for..." to a full blown discussion of merits of congregational singing and
today's (perceived or real) crisis of the imminent demise of the hazzan and
hazzanut, all stripes of our profession have chimed in. Far be it from this
Internet reporter to imply that - of the questions raised - one or the other
has "the answer" for the rest of us . Suffice to say that the questions retain their

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viability through this medium and each of us - as the Mara d'Shira of our
congregations - has to determine the pathways for the future. The medium of
the future - Hazzanet - is now asserting its growing maturity. Yes, there are
occasional spurious messages or accidentally sent emails. Yet on the whole,
we benefit, professionally and personally, from this medium where one can
get that needed solution (or more accurately, any number of solutions) to
an imminent or critical problem that we are facing - and we can get those
answers within days, hours or even minutes. Hazzanet is now our Chavruta.
To learn more, join us on line.

Richard Berlin is the Spiritual Leader (Kol Bo) of Parkway Jewish Center in the
eastern suburbs of Pittsburgh, PA. An ASCAP publisher and composer, Rick con-
tinues to create new liturgical works that bridge hazzanut and congregational
singing. As Associate Editor of the Journal of Synagogue Music, he assists in its
publication - setting all the music and copy for print.

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A Cross-section of Congregational Singing
in One Israeli City

By YosefZucker

Writing an article on congregational singing in Israel presents both an op-
portunity and an excuse. The opportunity is to get out on Shabbat, visit other
synagogues in the area, and see what they do. I've permitted myself this
luxury occasionally but never in a systematic way, and I had never recorded
what I heard and saw. The excuse was an opportunity in itself- to be able to
release myself from duties in my own congregation in Kfar Sava in order to
visit as many synagogues as possible in the several months that I had before
the article was due.

When I made aliyah to Israel in 1983 as a graduate of the old Cantors
Institute, I had a special interest in the music of the different eidot. Being an
idealist in heart and mind, I expected that in the melting pot of modern Israel
a nusach Erets Yisrael would develop, to which the nusachim of the different
eidot would each contribute their share. Indeed, I looked forward to making
my own contribution towards reaching this goal. Numerous factors, both
musical and social, could eventually play a part in merging different traditions,
and to date there have been some conscious attempts to hasten this process.
I feel, however, that the unconscious mingling of tunes between Jews from
different traditions is what will ultimately serve to create an Israeli nusach.
The past twenty or so years have been marked by conscious attempts by
different groups, political and religious (which go together in Israel), to re-
turn the Crown of Torah to its former glory: I'hachazir Atarah I'Yoshna as
expressed in the motto of the Shas 1 party. The Shas school system has grown
greatly in numbers all over the country, and represents an attempt by ultra-
Orthodox Sephardim to establish their own identity, independent from the
Ashkenazi ultra-Orthodox. The first generation of Oriental Sephardim to
arrive in the state of Israel studied in the Orthodox yeshivot, among them
that of Vishnitz. The Shas party was originally under the patronage of (the
Lithuanian) Rabbi Eliezer Menachem Shach; later Rabbi Ovadia Yosef (born
in Iraq) established the party's independence and became its halachic author-
ity iposeik) . Children enrolled in Shas day schools learn Sephardic traditions,
and the party has taken over many neighborhood Sephardic synagogues, not
always with the agreement of the worshipers. A similar process has taken

1 Sephardi Torah Sages.

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♦

place in the Ashkenazi synagogues and schools, which in some cases, but not
all, has been spurred by Chabad 2 . There are also crossover situations, such as
the Sephardic followers of Rabbi Nachman of Bratislav, 3 and the Bukharan
synagogue in my neighborhood which seems to have been recently adopted
by a Chabad rabbi.

My primary question was: can one sense a movement towards the devel-
opment of a nusach Erets Yisrael, or is the current trend of strengthening of
ethnic identities serving to prevent such a merger? Clearly, an examination
of what is sung in a sample of different synagogues could shed light on this
question. It is worthwhile noting that the Israeli Defense Force (Tsahal)
approached this question regarding the liturgy years ago, and in all the
synagogues on army bases one can find siddurim that follow Nusach Achid
("The Uniform Version") based upon Nusach Sepharad. Normally there are
many other siddurim available, and most of the worshippers choose a siddur
of their own preference. The musical nusach used for a particular occasion
in the army depends on who leads the service, and at every occasion that I
attended services on a base, everybody was very accepting of whatever tradi-
tion was used. I now hear from soldiers currently on active duty that this is
not necessarily the case today.

I limited my research to the numerous synagogues of Kfar Sava. I attended
different services, mostly on Erev Shabbat, and recorded my observations
on Saturday night. I would have liked to speak with the sh'lichei tsibbur and
gabba'im in those synagogues, but in most cases time did not permit this on
Shabbat and I was unable to connect with these individuals during the week
because of their regular work schedules. Kfar Sava is a city of 80,000 founded
a little over a hundred years ago and situated northeast of Tel Aviv. The city is
known for its cultural life and educational system, and houses a large secular-
liberal population as well as many olim from English-speaking countries and
many Oriental and Sephardic ("mizrachi") Jews. The eastern section of the
city, in which I live, is predominately Oriental; of its 28 synagogues, only two
are Ashkenazi and one is Ethiopian. The remainder are Persian (the largest
number), Sephardic, Moroccan, Yemenite, and Bukharan. I made a point
of going to "the people." As opposed to searching out synagogues that were
known for their singing (I do not think that there is a professional hazzan in
the city), I concerned myself with the experience of the average person who

2 The world-wide Lubavitcher chasidic movement.

3 Ukranian chasidic leader, 1772-1811.

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♦

chooses to attend his neighborhood synagogue. I believe that my experiences
could be duplicated throughout Israel.

A few words on the nature and organization of these synagogues, which is a
feature they have in common with our Masorti-Conservative congregation as
well. All of these synagogues are composed of people who have come together
for the sake of prayer and study. They receive limited financial support from
the municipal Religious Council, and are responsible for their own internal
organization. Each synagogue has its own steering committee and gabbai,
responsibilities that may rotate among the different members. As noted, full-
time professional hazzanim are a rarity in Israel. Rabbis are likewise not part
of the landscape in the vast majority of synagogues. The prayers are led by
more (and less) knowledgeable individuals, and congregational participation
varies greatly among the different synagogues. The smallest synagogue that I
visited has room for perhaps 30-40 worshipers; the largest can seat about 200.
Dress is informal, and varies from T-shirts to full ultra-Orthodox garb. Most
of the worshipers are men; women do attend all of the synagogues except the
Yemenite congregation, which has no women's section. The smallest women's
section I saw seats about twenty. The largest seats about fifty, and took up
a third of the synagogue from front to back. Children were present in all of
the synagogues except the Ethiopian, and wander freely in and out. In some
congregations the children are given roles in leading prayer.

One last comment is in order regarding the definition of "congregational
singing." In normal usage among American cantors, this term refers to those
places in the service when the congregation sings together. However, the prac-
tices in some of the congregations which I visited gave me cause to expand this
definition to include all those occasions where members of the congregation
other than the shaliach tsibur participate in the reading of the prayers.

My research got off to somewhat of a comic start. My first visit was to the
Ethiopian synagogue in our neighborhood, which I visit at least once a year.
As they are the newest community in Israel, I was interested to hear what they
were singing. The prayers on Erev Shabbat begin with a long prayer by the
kais. 4 The congregation stands, and the kais, holding his staff, begins a long
plaintive prayer in Amharic. The congregation apparently knows the prayer
well, and participates by repeating words and bowing. Amharic is a Semitic
language, and the words "Adonai" and "Halleluyah" are noticeable. This is
the height of congregational participation; the one (elderly) woman present
participated fully, genuflecting with the men (ostensibly in the neighboring

4 Ethiopian spiritual leader.

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room, but the door was open, and she may have physically been in the room
with the men part of the time). There were not many young people in the
synagogue at this time, so I was not able to judge if those who were born or at
least grew up in Israel are comfortable with this ritual. Then the unexpected
happened: the kais asked me to lead the prayers. I explained that I wanted to
hear what they sung, and he told me I could sing anything I wanted. I wasn't
surprised; this is not the first time this has happened, and I knew that I was
testing my luck. I recalled the first time I had visited the synagogue, when
the prayers were led by one of the young men. Kabbalat Shabbat and Arvit
were an interesting hodge-podge of Ashkenazic and Sephardic melodies.
After the services I asked him where he had studied, and he told me that he
had attended a yeshiva high school and picked up what he knew there. I had
no choice but to try to remember the melodies I had heard on that occasion.
Fortunately, I received some guidance from somebody standing near me. As
a reliable source of information that particular service was not of much use
to this study. I appreciate my acceptance among this community, but being
given the honor oishaliach tsibur each time I visit does not help me to un-
derstand their usual practice. It does demonstrate the desire of the Ethiopian
community to be a part of mainstream Judaism.

The observations listed below were made at Shabbat services at the follow-
ing synagogues in Kfar Sava: Al Shem Hatsadikim (mixed Oriental-Sephardic,
leaning towards Moroccan), Olei Turkia (despite the name, the congregants
tell me is mixed Oriental-Sephardic), Bukharan, Persian, Beit Yosef (Ye-
menite), Ohel Moshe (Ashkenazic modern Orthodox, Ts'irei B'nei Akiva),
Ner K'doshim (Ashkenazic modern Orthodox). I visited all of the Oriental
synagogues on Erev Shabbat, and both Ashkenazi synagogues and Al Shem
HaTsadikim for morning services on Shabbat.

All of the Oriental synagogues I visited read Shir HaShirim before Kab-
balat Shabbat, with the exception of the Persian synagogue where it is read
after Kabbalat Shabbat. There are also a number of changes in the order of
prayers at that synagogue, which are outside the scope of this report. In all
of the synagogues, each chapter of Shir HaShirim is read from their seat by
a different person. In some of the congregations, the readers seem to know
their chapter in advance; in others the gabbai calls out the name of the readers
at the beginning of each chapter. In the Bukhari and Persian congregations,
the readers included boys that looked as young as eight years old.

The Psalms of Kabbalat Shabbat are sung to the same melody in all the
Oriental-Sephardic congregations (Example 1).

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♦

Example 1, Si Psalm 96) as sung in Oriental Sephardic synagogues

In the Al Shem HaTsadikim Synagogue, the congregation sang all the psalms
out loud together. The Persian congregation also sings together, but their
singing is not very melodious. In the remaining synagogues, the psalms were
each read by a different reader, including children, and some worshipers did
join in the singing. At the Yemenite Beit Yosef Synagogue, the psalms were
sung together with typical Yemenite organum. 5 The melody was rhythmic
and yet, psalmodic, varying within a small range of pitches, never more than
a third. Mizmor L'David (Psalm 29) is sung in all the Oriental-Sephardic
congregations to one of several melodies. The most common tune is notated
on page 7 of The Sephardic-Oriental Songbook, 6 with the tune on page 10
as close runner-up.

L'cha Dodi provides an opportunity for congregational singing in most
synagogues, and it was interesting to see what melodies would be chosen
in each venue. In the Al Shem HaTsadikim and Olei Turkia synagogues, a
common Sephardic melody is used {Sephardic-Oriental Songbook, p. 11), and
the chorus is not repeated. The Bukharan and Persian congregations sang
the melody called "folk" on page 23 oiZamru Lo-The New Generation. 7 The
Yemenites sing L'cha Dodi to their own melody, joining in with the shaliach
tsibbur primarily for the recurring refrain.

In Sephardic synagogues every word of the Arvit service is sung out loud
by the shaliach tsibur, with the congregation joining in at specific words
and phrases. This is true in the Yemenite synagogue as well. I must say it
stands in stark contrast to the typical Ashkenazi synagogue, in which the
shaliach tsibbur finishes the prayers, and the congregation joins in only when
prompted. There is a liveliness in the Oriental-Sephardic synagogues which
is lacking in the Ashkenazi synagogues. I witnessed other exotic practices for
the Vaichulu section and for Aleinu, but none that were significant enough
to receive detailed description here.

5 The Yemenite Jews sing together in a harmony of parallel fourths reminiscent of
parallel organum during the Middle Ages, from about 900-1050.

6 Edited by Velvel Pasternak (Cedarhurst, NY: Tara Publications, 1989).

7 Edited by Jeffrey Shiovitz (New York: Cantors Assembly, 2004).

187

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The prayers end with Yigdal in all of the synagogues. Most use a c
Sephardic melody; an interesting variation that I heard was at Al Shem Ha-
Tsadikim, where Yigdal was sung to the tune of the Ladino song Cuando El
Rey Nimrod. At the Bukharan synagogue the members of the congregation
rise, greet each other with "Shabbat Shalom," and leave during the singing
of Yigdal.

It is easy to sum up my Shabbat morning experience at two Ashkenazi
modern Orthodox synagogues and at the Al Shem Tsadikim synagogue. In
both of the Ashkenazi synagogues, the congregation sang where expected,
and in many cases sang the same tunes one might hear in an American syna-
gogue. (Of the two synagogues, Ner K'doshim has a higher percentage of
English speakers.) My overall impression was that in both synagogues there
was much less congregational singing than in the typical American Conser-
vative synagogue. My feeling at Ohel Moshe was that the communal singing
was initiated by the congregation. In the Ner K'doshim synagogue individual
worshipers joined in what I would call a congregational choir at certain points
in the Amidah and Torah service. Where unison congregational singing oc-
curred, it was initiated by the shaliach tsibbur. At the Al Shem HaTsakidim
synagogue there was continual participation by the congregation at specific,
pre-understood places. These places are indicated in the siddurim, but the
markings differ from what happens during actual practice. I was present
there on Shabbat Chanukah, and was looking forward to (and disappointed
by) Hallel. There was not any particular congregational singing during the
Hallel, and what there was lacked any feeling of coordination. Ma Ashiv was
sung to the traditional Ashkenazi Maoz Tsur melody, modified in Sephardic
fashion to fit the words.

All things considered, and from the small sample of synagogues I visited, it
is very easy to arrive at the following conclusions: There is considerably more
congregational singing in Oriental-Sephardic synagogues than in Ashkenazi
synagogues. Among the Ashkenazi synagogues, my own Masorti-Conser-
vative Hod VeHadar Congregation sings much more than the average. The
repertoire which we sing is based on the melodies that the founders of the
congregation brought with them from the States in the late 1970s, plus a few
Shlomo Carlebach and Debbie Friedman tunes that have been introduced
in recent years. Moreover, our congregation has expressed a desire to ex-
pand its repertoire. The development of a Nusach Erets Yisrael would seem
to be far in the future, since Ashkenazim and Sephardim evidently want
to perpetuate their own traditions. One hears more Ashkenazic melodies
in Sephardic-Oriental synagogues than Sephardic melodies in Ashkenazic

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♦

synagogues (an exception to the trend being Hod VeHadar). The young gen-
eration of Sephardim has lost the accent of their parents' and grandparent's
generation; at the same time, a little Oriental ornamentation can be heard in
the singing of the Ashkenazi sh'lichei tsibbur. It seems that the Sephardim,
who are now the majority in Israel, are setting the trend by maintaining their
own traditions and involving young children in the public participation of
the prayer service.

Hazzan YosefZucker is the owner and editor ofOR-TA] lions in Kfar

Sava, Israel.

+

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Practical Articles

The Birth of an Idea: Commissioning Music
for a Trained Congregational Choir

by Solomon Mendelson

O Interactive Grantor

of the gift of life and learning,

restore to us ...

the congregational response— for Amens,

the chorale of mixed voices— for Hallelujahs.

Issachar Miron,
18 Gates (1993)

In our post-Golden Age era the only questions waiting to be resolved are
the calibre of the music and its variety, not whether we should or shouldn't
use congregational singing. As with most Conservative congregations of the
late 1960s and early 1970s we in Long Beach (New York) had a sprinkling
of congregational melodies throughout the service. But they were discon-
nected, without any relationship to each other. Truth to tell, the people were
not unhappy. They sang a great deal, but from my professional perspective
as hazzan, something was missing.

At the Cantors Assembly convention of 1970 the problem became
crystallized in my mind. Max Wohlberg, my former teacher at the Cantors
Institute, had retired to my community, and my wife Emma and I felt honored
to drive him home from the convention. On the way I asked him if he would
be interested in writing a Shabbat Morning service for hazzan and trained
congregational choir.

Two months later, Chemdat Shabbat was born. 1 For a period of six
months, following Kiddush after Shabbat Morning services about sixty men,
women and children spent a half-hour of rehearsal time working on the service.
My brother Jack did the same in his congregation, and at the premiere Jack's
group joined us. We were about 100 strong, and the crowd of worshipers in
attendance reached Yom Kippur proportions.

The next week we returned the favor and joined forces with Jack's group at
the Conservative Synagogue of Riverdale. In those days many of the Seminary's

1 Max Wohlberg. Chemdat Shabbat (New York: Cantors Assembly, 1971).

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♦

intelligentsia davened there, including the late Rabbi Gershon Cohen and his
successor, Ismar Schorsch, currently in his twenty-sixth year as Chancellor. I
can honestly say that they were thrilled at the result of our efforts.

Writing in the published service's Preface, Sam Rosenbaum, then Execu-
tive Vice President of the Cantors Assembly, explained the premise behind
Chemdat Shabbat.

One of the things which congregations today seem to want most is a wider share
of participation in the service. Unfortunately, many American Jews cannot
participate in the most meaningful way, in the way in which Jews for centuries
participated, by davening. However, the need is there and it is legitimate. It is
up to hazzanim and rabbis to devise a service which is at once true to Tradi-
tion, but which, at the same time, will permit even partially illiterate Jews wider
participation.

Chemdat Shabbat is a unique answer to this need. It is a service conceived,
from beginning to end, as an antiphonal, cooperative venture between hazzan
and congregation. It is more than a collection of tuneful strains. It is a unified,
through-composed work of hazzanic artistry which permits both hazzan and
congregation an opportunity to join in the worship of the Almighty at the
highest level possible. Like all good things it will not be acquired easily. Con-
gregations will need to undertake to study the parts which the composer has
assigned to them, and the hazzan will require the discipline of chanting his
sections just as the composer has written them in order that the maximum
effect be achieved.

My only specific request of Max was that he compose a new, contemporary
setting of M'chalkeil Chayim. His previous version 2 was, and is, one of the
most widely sung congregational melodies ever written. Yet, he always con-
sidered it a concession to popular taste, intended for children. Max obliged
willingly, creating an American-sounding folk tune in the spirit of Simon
and Garfunkel. 3

Example 1A gives the entire setting of M'chalkeil Chayim, and Example IB
isolates its leading motive. Example 1C shows the opening motive of Simon
and Garfunkel's hit song "Scarborough Fair" of a few years earlier. Example

2 Max Wohlberg. "M'khalkeil Hayim," Shirei Zimroh (New York: Bloch Publishing,
1947), number 50A.

3 "Scarborough Fair." Lyrics from an old English riddle song (The Fireside Book of
Folk Songs, edited by Margaret Bradford Boni, New York, Simon and Schuster, 1947,
page 26); music by Paul Simon & Art Garfunkel for the film The Graduate, 1965.

4 Magein Avot opening, after Abraham Zvi Idelsohn. Tol'dot HaN'ginah HaTvrit
(Tel Aviv: Dvir, 1924), pages 14-17.

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♦

^

Example ID.
ID cites a typical opening statement of the Magein Avot prayer mode, par-
alleled in Arabic secular song by the combined modes (called makamat):
Bayat; and Nava. 4 The similarities among all three are self evident; either
of the latter two which might have provided the inspiration for Wohlberg's
haunting melody.

*

^

♦

Max wrote a lovely anthem for the Prayer for the Government, unique in
that the text is normally read in English, not sung in Hebrew. That and the
naturalness of its phraseology made it an instant hit with my congregants.
It never took more than my cueing them with the invocation — Uv'chein y'hi
ratson milfanecha ("Therefore, may it be Thy will...") for them to enter re-
flexively with Shet'heiArtseinu... (Example 2).

Example 2.

Leading motifs are recycled from beginning to end in Chemdat Shabbat,
creating a comfort zone for congregants every time another connection be-
tween music and text clicks into place.

e 3A. Ki Mitziyon (page 8 in the music) and Uv'Vinyan Eretz Yisrael (page 15

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♦

chol a - sher la"

Example 3B. Bei Ana Racheits (page 9) and Heim Un'sheihem (page 14).

Example 3C. Havu L'Adonai (page 24) andAdon Olam (page 47).

«

♦

The Rosh Chodesh Bentshn epitomizes Wohlberg's use of nusach as the raw
material for hazzanic chant and congregational refrains.
Lento J = 60
Cantor

Example 4A. The cantor's opening statement (Y'hi ratson ) is echoed it

the congregation's response (shet'chadeish aleinu...).

Example 4B: om. ..sung by congregatio

expands to include a descant above, by the cantor, at the coda —

Example 4C. —where cantor and congregation each reprise the same melodic ideas in
chayim sheyimal'u..., but interpret them differently.

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♦

For good measure, Max wrote an additional melody for Ein Keiloheinu that
alternates between Hebrew and English; here it is titled "There is None like
Our God." In my opinion more of such carol-like settings are needed. Not
everyone agrees with me, to be sure. A congregant who had attended all the
post-Kiddush rehearsals faithfully for four months balked when we started
to practice this little gem. Mind you, it's only an alternate approach that I
taught after we had covered the Hebrew version on the previous page (43 in
the music). I'm not certain if it was two new melodies in a row that proved
the last straw or whether it was use of the vernacular for a beloved hymn that
upset him. But I'll never forget the indignation in his voice as he closed the
score and announced just before stalking out, "I will not sing in any service
where you've changed the Ein Keiloheinu!" I trust that any of you who hap-
pen to read through Max's charming call and response — so reminiscent of
tunes for the Haggadah "Riddle Song" Echad Mi Yodei'a— thirty-five years
later, will judge it more kindly (Example 5).

Example 5. — Ein Keiloheinu as bi-lingual call and response.

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♦

Example 5. concluded

The following forward-looking hazzanim and congregations co-spon-
sored the commissioning of Chemdat Shabbat along with me and my con-
gregation, Beth Sholom of Long Beach, NY:

Isaac Goodfriend of Ahavath Achim, Atlanta, Georgia;

David Silverman of B'nai Emunah, Tulsa, Oklahoma;

Ivan Perlman of Temple Emanu-El, Providence, Rhode Island;

Isaac Wall of Har Zion Temple, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; and

Abraham Lubin of Rodfei Zedek, Chicago, Illinois.

Sol Mendelson, who sang as a young choir boy with Berele Chagy, Moishe Oysher,
Leibele Waldman and Leib Glantz, went on to receive nine Solomon Schechter
awards for visionary programming as a cantor in his own rightfor forty-five years.
Active in the Cantors Assembly even longer, he has served it in virtually every capac-
ity, including president from 1 987-1 989. The many new works he has commissioned
have greatly influenced the way we pray in Conservative synagogues.

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♦

Music on the Balanced Bimah - How a Composer Sees It

By Michael Issacson

I write on this topic not in any way to suggest that I am an adversary of
"popular" music, nor that my own synagogue music isn't enjoying popular
performances of its own, and especially not as an ideologist for any one ex-
clusive stylistic musical menu for Jewish worship, but simply as one composer
who, having contributed both easy songs and more considered synagogue
compositions to the repertoire, represents four types of musicians whose
work and message needs to be heard.

A. First, I speak on behalf of those who believe in a philosophy of balance in wor-
ship music; a balance of style, content, and diversity for all congregants.

B. Second, I stand for a cadre of distinguished composers who have, in the past,
created a notable body of synagogue music that is lamentably being overlooked
in our worship today; works for trained cantors and choirs that is accompa-
nied by instruments other than the guitar and vocal forces other than unison
singing.

C. Third, I represent those who are presently composing choral settings and
hazzanut.

D. Lastly, I'm here for the generation of younger, highly talented composers who
have all but given up composing for a genre, which, at the present, they perceive
to be frivolous and unreceptive to their craft as seriously trained musicians.

In fact, for the past two years I've been contributing a column on today's
precise topic to a periodical called The American Rabbi. I address and dis-
cuss Jewish musical ideas for Rabbis who hold so much influence in shaping
our worship music. My column is called "The Balanced Bimah." Simply put,
the column advocates balance as the key to how we best receive and use
information and, in this symposium's context, how we can best employ and
appreciate both the literary and the musical aspects of an optimally effective
Jewish worship experience.

Consider this: Our minds have both a cognitive function (the left side of
the brain if you will) and an emotive function (the right side), when both
sides are processing stimuli in balance we understand and feel on an infinitely
higher level than if one side was dominant over the other. For example when
listening to a piece of music what we cognitively know about its text, history,
instrumentation, and architecture acts to enrich its sonic allure and heighten
its overall emotional impact upon us.

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♦

An elevated synagogue bimah and its pulpit leaders may be similarly un-
derstood as the right and left sides of our Jewish worship consciousness. The
left side of the bimah, the rabbi, guides our cognitive understanding through
words, while the right side of the bimah, the cantor, stimulates our emotions
through music. When they are in confluent balance sharing the bimah equally,
we are the fortunate beneficiaries of an extraordinary worship experience. This
gets even more delicate when you consider that each rabbi has a left-sided
Maimonadean rationality and a right-sided Shneur Zalman folksiness and
each cantor has a left sided nus-chaot aspect along with a right-sided nigun
propensity. Each one and all four have to be in balance as well.

However, if there's too much music and not enough rabbinic readings and
commentary on the bimah, it is as unbalanced as if there is no music at all.
If all we hear is one kind of music like guitar strumming and unison singing,
the service is as unbalanced as if even the finest hazzan and choir precluded
any congregational singing. All styles of well-crafted synagogue music are
welcome and necessary on a balanced bimah; the key word, however, must
always be balance.

Equally disproportionate is a service that presents musical or literary ideas
that are too accessible or "popular". Judaism is a great religion that has sus-
tained us because it has given us great spiritual ideas that were not always
immediately accessible; as a result our people were challenged to grow, think,
feel and act na-aseh v'nishma; to do and to listen" and we were all elevated
in the process.

Today it seems that any thoughtful, contemplative silence during the service
for any musical or literary concept that needs more than a nanosecond to
fully comprehend is suspect and labeled as "heady or too intellectual"; how
the mighty ideas have fallen. Our worship services need to regain a sense of
musical balance and heightened textual and poetic interest for all members
of our congregations; for all worshippers of every age in every stage of their
lives.

However, the solution is not a menu of divisional boutique services ex-
clusively for specialized factions like singles, seniors, youth, women, or gay
congregants. A devotional service should be about worshipping one God
rather than separating different worshippers. This fractionalization policy
affirms that our differences are greater than our commonalities.

We must return to the durable idea of Am Echad Lev Achad-one people,
one congregation. The contemporary worship service, while engagingly
eclectic, must be inclusive for all. When we discard this notion, we unmind-

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♦

fully forget history, we trivialize the present and we diminish hope for an
elevated spiritual future as one, unified people. I suspect that the Sephardic
community over many years, in its adherence to one synagogue for all, has
learned this lesson far better than the Ashkenazim.

As in so many other areas of our lives today, ignorance is our common
enemy and education is always our strongest ally. But it goes further than
that. Not only must ignorance be identified but effective education must also
be focused and lavished upon those who influence and design our Jewish
communal tastes.

After more than thirty-five years of presenting music and teaching at can-
torial conventions, I now realize that I was literally preaching to the choir.
Cantors knew something about their musical heritage and were not going
about re-designing the synagogue service in 2000 by discarding a legacy of
over 150 years of sacred music. Cantors weren't the pulpit leaders needing
our guidance and instruction. Their bimah partners, the younger rabbis, our
new leaders, are the clergy who more appropriately deserve and require ef-
fective music education and cultural direction. Rabbis, while well trained in
talking, urgently need instruction and first hand experiences in music listening
to learn about the wealth of worthy sacred music that presently exists before
they go about running a wholesale cultural clearance sale.

I don't think our rabbis set out to be cultural ax men or ax women. If you
ask any rabbi he or she will profess a profound love of Jewish music; and I
believe them. It is not their n'shamah that is in need of repair; it is their musical
ignorance, their lack of music historical perspective, and dearth of personal
listening experience. When it comes to understanding our y'rushah, our
legacy of Jewish music, most rabbis are like those limited souls, who when
invited to an elaborate smorgasbord, eschew the gourmet delicacies laid out
before them because they've only munched on hot dogs and s'mores over a
campfire.

Is it any surprise? Rabbis have been given too little musical education as
children; they probably don't play an instrument other than the guitar (if one
at all), and are given no serious, substantive, cumulative, Jewish music educa-
tion at Hebrew Union College or at the Jewish Theological Seminary. They've
probably have never sung in a legitimate choir, they rarely attend classical
music concerts, and most of their first-hand Jewish musical orientation and
information comes from the few weeks during each summer when they at-
tend Ramah or NFTY camps. Is it any wonder that rabbis believe that camp
songs make up the sum total of the Jewish musical universe?

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♦

Yet, these are the leaders, not the cantors and music directors, whom we
now entrust with our present and future musical content, values and deci-
sions. Clearly rabbis should not be singled out as the only cultural culprits;
they are most ably encouraged and abetted by the budget watchers on our
temple boards ... but for quite another reason than esthetic preference.

A cantor, choir and organist are simply more expensive to financially sustain
than a song leader with a guitar. It is much cheaper to buy into a "cross-over",
homogenized, folksy sound than a more comprehensive Jewish sacred music
program. Today it seems serious hazzanut, trained choirs and instrumental
music are relegated mainly to the real moneymaker services ...the High
Holidays. Is profit on expenditure to be the primary criterion for our Jewish
cultural goals now and in the future?

Feeling the pressure of rising costs and dwindling congregations, board
members seek a band-aid remedy by touting the new, in vogue, "Jewishness"
of continuous congregational singing. They encourage their rabbis: "Let's get
Friday Night Live or the BJ service and they'll surely cure our congregational
problems."

While these events are well attended by mostly young singles as inexpensive
pick up dates and Friday Evening pre-pub hopping warm-ups, I challenge
anyone here to report that temple membership or financial support of any
substance has dramatically increased by those singles (not their bill-paying
parents) attending these cocktail parties disguised as services. As a matter of
fact, these events, perceived as "freebies" by the young singles are, ironically,
more expensive for their struggling parents' generation to regularly produce
than elevated Shabbat musical services. Furthermore, I can guarantee you
that the components of these "cross-over" musical "raves", predicated on an
au courant timeliness, will become outdated even faster than what they have
prematurely replaced.

You might think "Michael Isaacson's got it all wrong! In the synagogue of
2005 we don't want to stay quiet and passively listen to a five-minute vocal
performance by some Hazzan or choir - we want to participate!"

You know, it's funny but I never hear rabbis saying: "Instead of the congre-
gation sitting down, becoming quiet and thoughtfully listening to me deliver
a forty-five minute sermon, Let's save some time and money and get a lay
leader up on the bimah and the entire congregation can all participate in an
enthusiastic free for all about what they think the parsha is about!" I don't
see rabbis abdicating their professional homiletic and pedagogical mission;

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♦

but I do observe them asking the cantors to abdicate their musical calling in
favor of a lesser one.

Again, why should we be surprised? Rabbis and temple boards are People of
the Book, not People of the Score. When it comes to words, rabbis understand
the spiritual importance of periodic congregational silence and thoughtful
listening in contrast to continual congregational speaking. Rabbis comprehend
that our services must include active listening, reflection, and learning; what
our rabbis in this generation particularly have yet to be effectively taught and
fully appreciate is the value of a congregation's periodic silent attention to
sacred musical enrichment as well.

So, how do we regain a balance between the spoken word and a thoughtful,
mature appreciation of the best sacred musical settings of our liturgy?

I would suggest that it is not the existing musical settings that are
musty and need replacing so much as it is the sub-standard perfor-
mances that they receive by inadequately trained singers and solo-
ists with too little rehearsal time. When you hear magnificent perfor-
mances of our best compositions, the music clearly shines through.
From time to time, we, unfortunately, hear a less than dynamic rabbinic ser-
mon diminish the brilliance of a weekly Torah portion, but we don't throw
out the Torah. In more capable hands, or with greater preparation time, the
same truth will shine with inspired, insightful light.

It is the same with hazzanut and choral synagogue music; we must learn
to distinguish the skill of the musical messenger from the intrinsic value of
the musical message.

So, the first step in musically balancing the bimah is enlightening rabbis,
temple boards and congregations to the great legacy of our existing Jewish
music through the very best performances of it both live and on recordings.
Rabbis and congregations need to actively listen, not just mindlessly hear,
they need to learn the midrash of this music before they discount, dismiss,
and discard it.

Balance, balance, balance shalt thou pursue; both in life and in worship.
When we achieve a balanced bimah we also affirm God's gift of musical aware-
ness. Our congregations are diverse, polyglot assemblies that need diverse
tastes satisfied by the best elevation of both the spoken word and synagogue
music of all styles and all periods. Simplistic, juvenile liturgy and adolescent
camp music demeans our religious maturity as a people.

But before we can offer the widest menu, we must educate our leaders about
the profound jewels that lie before them. Do we throw out rabbinic Midrash

ZSl

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*

because it's more than a few years old? Why are we doing this to our musical
Midrash, our synagogue music? We need to regain and rededicate the temple
for all Jews of every age at every stage in their lives.

Balanced, intelligent, creative, eclecticism is the most effective way to attract
the widest cross section of our community back into one, unified, service.
Undoubtedly, the service has to sparkle. Our rabbis have to be better and
more knowledgeable and our cantors, singers and instrumentalists must be
first-rate as well. There has never been a viable alternative to quality control
in business, art, or in effective worship. But let us always remember that:

Quick fixes fall into disrepair just as quickly.

When we achieve a balance in content by educating our leaders, when we
balance and treasure the classic along with encouraging the innovative, and
when we balance the more lofty, less immediate idea with the "fast-food"
accessible bon bon; we will ultimately realize the success of a truly balanced
bimah.

Dr. Michael Isaacson, a prolific composer, conductor and producer, is founding
Music Director of the Israel Pops Orchestra and the Milken Archive of American
Jewish Music. His two-volume Michael Isaacson Songbook is published by Trans-
continental, and he recently completed thirty-six Seder songs for a new sight and
sound Haggadah. This article is adapted from his talk at a panel discussion: Push-
ing the Limits: Tensions between Text and Music in the American Synagogue
(New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, November 10, 2003).

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The Tune's the Thing - Lessons Learned in a
Half-Century as Cantor/Composer

by Charles Davidson

I shall try to put into a few words what I feel to be the difference (if any) in
the genre of congregational tunes which are current now and those used in
past years.

The oft-heard aphorism, "familiarity breeds contempt," did not apply to
congregational melodies except, perhaps, in extreme circumstances. Syna-
gogue goers have always enjoyed singing along with their cantor, and the more
familiar the melody the easier it was join in. In many a congregation the same
tunes were applied to the same texts almost constantly, and became part of
that synagogue's tradition. These tunes were usually composed by hazzanim
or choirmasters and often contained kernels of nusach hat'fillah. These older
melodies tended to have a folksy, European musical structure that resonated
within the traditional worshiper as an authentic extension of the davening
found in many congregations at that time.

Tunes were shared and spread from congregation to congregation through
the informed efforts of the professional congregational musician. Good melo-
dies benefited by the transfer, being tested in the exchange, as it were, and
they survived. Their continued popularity was usually merited. Inappropriate
tunes were soon recognized as such and were discontinued, to be replaced by
others. The arbiter of these arrangements was generally the hazzan.

The davening, encompassing congregational murmurai and cantorial rec-
itative, prepared us for the congregational tune and made that tune a part
of the whole. Audible congregational sounds in response to the hazzan's call
have mostly disappeared from the synagogue. In some synagogues today
an effort is being made toward the congregations' reinstatement as party to
the process, as is an effort to re-educate hazzanim toward a selective, more
traditional style of recitative-chant. The generally accepted reason for the
congregation's gradual dis-involvement from American-Jewish worship was
the lack of an hebraically capable laity that could participate in a traditional
prayer style.

This factor, in conjunction with a surge of Jewish summer-camp musical
creativity, gave rise to a tendency to fill the prayer space with tunes as much
as possible, eventually, to the point of services being completely sung to
melodies. The ascendancy of the congregational-melody service contrasted
strongly with the traditional manner of Jewish prayer, which did include the

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♦

use of melodies or congregational tunes, but not to the exclusion of the other
two elements; that is, murmurai and cantorial recitative.

The service was historically led by the hazzan, who would include in his
cantorial recitative or ongoing chant a congregational refrain, or periodically
insert into the davening a tune for the congregation to sing. This had seemed
to satisfy generations of worshipers: interpretive chanting by a professional,
coupled with audible congregational prayer and good melodies.

What the current sea-change in American synagogues has presented, how-
ever, is a wonderful opportunity for younger and older synagogue composers,
hazzanim and other musicians, to create meaningful melodies that would be
reflective of our times and contemporary musical mores.

And create they have. From the 1960s on, the Jewish musical world has
been flooded with camp songs, chasidic and pseudo-chasidic melodies,
Israeli song-festival hits, jazz tunes, rock and folk tunes, reborn Christian
sound-alikes, Amer-Pop and others, all attempting to fill a void that some
synagogue leaders perceived of as a lack of active congregational participa-
tion. Of course, this void could be better understood as a lack of the sound
of active Hebrew davening.

Many of the creations were very good, many were not. Many possessed a
unique musical sound, many did not. The tunes which seemed to have some
staying power were those widely known through recordings or public con-
certs and subsequently evoked an instant response, gratifying to those eager
to hear an audible or enthusiastic response from the congregation.

Perhaps some of that eagerness had been fed by a subtle form of spiritual
envy. While it is evidentially clear that Jewish worship takes the form of private
and communal Hebrew prayer through an established and ritualistic liturgy,
the energetic vocal and bodily involvement of our Christian Evangelical and
African-American neighbors, as observed on television, might cause some
to think of ways to similarly involve Jewish worshippers. And, indeed, that
trend has recently been observed as well.

In yet another category are the banal tunes, German marches, Israeli love
songs, outdated and trite imports, and others, first heard in some progressive
synagogues and now known by everyone. Some feel an obligation to use them
because of their popularity, no matter their provenance.

While the European synagogues in general may have had their own in-
dividual and respected musical traditions, the American trend seems to be
moving quickly toward a universal manner of singing the same tunes to the
same texts, be they appropriate or not.

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I don't consider the desire for change to be a problem. We do live in different
times that call for different approaches in all music as well as for music used
in the synagogue. Given that thought, I do find somewhat curious the obvi-
ously strong desire in America to use supposedly new congregational tunes
that are written in the old European style. The shtetl type tune has become
very popular particularly among our young people. Perhaps this preference
for such melodies goes hand-in-hand with the current trend towards more
observance and toward the religious right and the ever-growing search for
spirituality. One hopes that there exist composers with synagogue back-
grounds who can write not only tunes, but complete synagogue services that
reflect our times. Where are the new composers, in addition to the few already
recognized, with synagogue backgrounds, who can write music which will
speak to and be accepted by a modern generation?

Regarding my own experience in trying to write tuneful music, my intent
has been to attract the ear of the listener with some melodious addition that
is somehow related to tradition and to create it with musical craft; ensur-
ing that it is appropriate to the text and adds to the kavvanah of the service,
without disrupting the mood. An added delight always, of course, is finding
new ways to have fun creating new forms with our cherished nusach hat'fillah.
(Example l). 1

Broad style

sim'- chah_ rab- bah v' - a - m' - ru chu - lam

Example 1. Davidson's creative use of nusach and trop in Mi Friday night.

1 Charles Davidson. "Mi Chamochah," Kol Ya'akov — A Sabbath Evening service for
Three-Part Congregational Choir (Elkins Park, PA: Ashbourne Publications, 1978).

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Lightly, bounce (J=l 12)

Congregational Choir

+

Example 1 (concluded). Davidson's creative use ofnusach and trop in Mi Chamochafor

Friday night.

In spite of the obstacles and problems discussed in this article, I believe that

we should have faith in the creative process of our people and look forward

to a renewal of Jewish musical energy to the betterment of our art.

Charles Davidson is one of America's most respected cantors and the Nathan Cum-
mings Professor of Liturgy and Hazzanut at the Jewish Theological Seminary's H.
L. Miller Cantorial School. His compositions— now featured on a Milken Archive
CD (Naxos label)— effortlessly traverse musical styles ranging from Baroque to
Yiddish folk to jazz.

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What's Wrong With my Adon Olam?
— A Hazzan/Educator's Checklist

by Jeffrey S. Myers

They sang through the Musaf Kedushah with great gusto. They were even
tapping their toes during Ein Keiloheinu. So how come their response to
Adon Olam was lukewarm at best? We'd sung the melody countless times, yet
the vast majority were talking and moving about. Does this scenario sound
familiar to you, even if you experience involved a different prayer?

As both Hazzan and Educational Director, I have an opportunity to imple-
ment the congregation's (and my) musical taste in prayer melodies from the
earliest levels. I am also able to supervise this progression at different stages
along the path, fostering change when necessary. It is through this unique
role that I am able to note the evolution in musical preferences of the student
and adult populations in my congregation, and share my reflections with
you, the reader. I'd like to explore two major areas: variables to consider in
congregational singing; and the ability to observe yourself.

It is important that you know the history of your congregation's melodies,
in order to create a foundation from whence to begin. That entails identifying
the intelligentsia who are self-appointed guardians of the mesorathamakom.
With your permission, I digress for a moment to illustrate the danger of rely-
ing solely on this source. Upon assuming a previous congregational post I
was informed that I had been announced as the pre-Selichot program. That
news gave me even more reason to learn the congregation's High Holy Day
melodies.

I reached out, through the Ritual Committee, to the regulars. We sat down
one evening with machzorim, a tape recorder and a music pad. I had previ-
ously created a list of tefillot that might normally be sung as congregational
melodies. We went through the list, and I carefully notated the tunes thay
shared with me. After reviewing the cassette to confirm accuracy, I neatly
wrote out these treasures (pre-Sibelius/Finale) and photocopied them for
distribution at the pre-Selichot program. As I moved down the list of selec-
tions, I discovered, much to my dismay, that few people were singing along.
At one point when I askedl: "How come no one's singing?", people called out:
"That's not how we sing it here."

As I responded by telling them about the meeting I'd had with the Ritual
Committee, I scanned the room and noticed that none of those "regulars"

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were present. I then asked the people in attendance to teach me how to sing
their melodies, and the evening actually ended quite successfully.

You need to cultivate individuals who are not only conversant with the
congregation's melodic heritage, but who are musical enough to reproduce
it for you. Then, when you introduce a new V'shamru, chances are that no
one will tell you: "The last cantor tried that melody too".

In addition, there are several other considerations:

1. The general Hebrew reading ability of the worshippers (or do 75%of them
require transliterated texts?).

2. The singing ability of the worshippers.

3. What types of congregants are present at what point in the service (i.e., do the
daveners come for P'sukei D'zimra while the remainder arrive for the Torah

4. Is the Rabbi supportive and encouraging?

Before introducing a new melody, consider the following questions;

1. If it's in place of an existent melody, why are you replacing the old one?

2. Are you open to alternating the new with the old?

3. Through which group or in what setting will you introduce it?

a. Via the Religious School.

b. By way of your B'nai/B'not Mitzvah students.

c. At a pre-service rehearsal.

d. During the service.

4. How frequently will you repeat it during its introduction?

5. What are the criteria that demonstrate whether it has been learned?

6. What feedback will you elicit to ascertain approval and support?

7. Will you hand out sheet music?

Successful introduction of a new melody, as well as a careful evaluation of
of current congregational chant, requires the ability to dispassionately and
objectively observe the congregation and your interaction with them. We
must make use of our senses to research and document how things work at
present. While it requires a slightly different approach if you face the Aron
HaKodesh when you daven, you will nevertheless need to develop the fol-
lowing skills:

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1. The ability to observe (where possible).

2. The ability to hear.

3. The ability to motivate through body language.

4. The ability to make careful mental notes.

The Ability to Observe

Suppose that you are carefully evaluating the effectiveness of current
congregational melodies. As you sing each one, watch your worshipers to
determine the following:

1. For those who are singing, how would you rate each person — from one to ten
— with ten representing lusty, joyous singing, down to disinterested, robotic

2. For those who aren't singing, take note of identifiable reasons why not, and/or
the behaviors that they are showing:

a. Involved in conversation.

b. Clueless.

c. Secretly reading something else.

d. In deep study or meditation.

e. Constantly checking wristwatch.

The Ability to Hear

1. Are there specific melodies that engender a better response? If yes, which
ones? Why do you think this is the case?

2. Are there specific melodies where few participate? If yes, which ones? Why
do you think this is the case?

The Ability to Motivate through Body Language

How we lead and how others respond is mostly based on visual cues. Some
of these criteria that refer specifically to you as leader are interchangeable
with the

Criteria used in evaluating congregational response. For our purposes,
the presence or absence of instrumental accompaniment is not a relevant
factor.
1. When you lead a congregational melody, what physical actions do you perform,

e.g.:

a. Move your hands and/or conduct.

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*

b. Sway your body.

c. Move your head.

d. Smile.

e. Clap hands.

f. Pound the podium.

g. Make eye contact.

2. If you observe that you do none of the above, have you determined that merely
leading the congregation in song is sufficient to elicit their participation?

3. Whichever of the above questions you answered yes to, why did you answer
that way, i.e., if you use physical actions, why is this so? If you do not, why is
this so?

Let us now observe the body language of the congregants.

1. What do you notice when you lead a congregational melody? To answer this,
observe the body language of the entire congregation, those singing as well as
those not singing.

2. Compare your initial observations with those made during a second, third and
fourth melody. Are there any differences? Whichever answer you arrive at,
give consideration to why this may be so.

3. Does each congregant react consistently, or are there variations? What can
you learn from youi

The Ability to Make Careful Mental Notes

Through the ongoing process of carefully observing your congregation you
should come to realize the following:

1. Congregants are consistent in their singing behaviors. They can be divided
into three categories:

a. Those who always sing (may we all be blessed with this group in
abundance!).

b. Those that never, or at best rarely, sing.

c. Those who occasionally sing but are frequently distracted or
uninterested.

2. Certain melodies engender the most participation, and conversely...

3. Certain melodies engender the least participation.

4. There is a hierarchy in terms of:

a. Your favorite melodies versus the congregation's favorites.
These two lists may be less similar than you expect.

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b. The degree of difficulty in the Hebrew.
. The more body language you utilize, the greater the participation.
. Congregants are consistent in their response to change:

a. There are the Masoretes, opposed to any change, who view their
ancient melodies as "Misinai tunes" to be used respectfully and
never discarded.

b. There are those comfortable enough with change, who look
forward to an uplifting, invigorating style.

c. There are those who don't mind change, yet need a smattering
of the old and familiar as anchors to be comfortable in services.

. These observations hold fast and true for all si

Having carefully researched the status of congregational melodies and or-
ganized the data, you are now in a better position to make informed choices.
If and when you choose to introduce/change a melody, the congregation's
history of their response to this sort of change will be helpful in your plan-
ning. There is ample research that has shown that people and institutions
adapt slowly to change. Within the past decade, a new profession has been
borne - Change Facilitators.

Armed with answers to the questions that I have raised, you can now plot
a careful course, mindful of the differing needs of your congregants. Perhaps
one of the more difficult questions not yet dealt with is: How do I meld my
tastes with those of my congregants? If you determine that your musical tastes
are similar, then your path is clearer. If they aren't, then it is more difficult,
but not impossible, to come to a compromise. To effect any change without
prior research can doom any anticipated success. A well-planned curriculum
of change will be rewarding for both the congregation and you.

Jeffrey Myers just celebrated his Bar Mitzvah year as Hazzan/Educational Director
of Congregation Beth-El in Massapequa, New York. He is Membership Chair of the
CA, and currently sits on the United Synagogue's National Education Commission
and the Advisory Board of The Leadership Institute for Congregational School
Principals, a joint initiative ofJTS and HUC-JIR funded by UJA-Federation.

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Friday Night Alive - Without Instruments!
Drawn from Popular, Chasidic and
Classic Jewish Musical Styles

By Mark Biddelman

BACKGROUND

As a child growing up in Springfield, New Jersey, I loved to go with my parents
to Friday night services which were held at the Presbyterian Parish House. I
grew up in a very small Conservative congregation, of which my father was
a founder. We had a rabbi, a lay cantor and lots of congregational singing. I
didn't really understand much about what was going on but I loved to sing
along as the prayers were chanted.

When I graduated as a cantor from HUC in 1967, the popularity of folk
music was waning and Beatlemania had reached its prime. Bob Dylan and
the Rolling Stones were all the rage in an era of folk-rock, acid rock and every
rock in between. I assumed my first pulpit that same year in a sleepy North
Jersey bedroom community that contained a Jewish core of mostly European
background. I chanted with nusach, read Torah with trop and occasionally
wowed the old timers with compositions by the Golden Age masters. At-
tendance was sparse even with a Bar Mitzvah, and I rarely saw a youngster
outside of Junior Congregation.

I felt the need for encouraging younger couples and their kids, and I asked
my rabbi if I could present a service featuring music that they would relate to.
He favored the idea, and especially my stated intent to quote musical motifs
familiar to the generation I was writing for. As my springboard I would use
the music I had grown up with.

The format consisted of congregational melodies separated by English
readings that I composed myself. I printed a special prayer book contain-
ing all the Hebrew and English texts and the service was presented without
interruptions for page announcements, etc. I didn't know it at the time, but
I was laying a foundation upon which others would later build: Congregation
B'nai Jeshurun's "Experience" (instituted by its rabbi, Marshall Meyer, z"l, ca.
1987), and composer Craig Taubman's Friday Night Live (commissioned by
Sinai temple in Westwood, CA, 1999). The reaction was overwhelmingly
positive. Almost 700 people came to the premier service, which we had to
hold in the social hall. The congregants got hooked on the contemporary
melodies and sang along with exuberance.

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After that wonderful experience I started incorporating the melodies in
regular worship, and during the next thirty-five years congregational partici-
pation on Friday nights reached a level of ninety percent. Presentations that
I witnessed from time to time at Cantors Assembly conventions convinced
me that my approach was gradually gaining adherents among my colleagues
in the Conservative movement. By now it has become the thing to do.

RATIONALE

The services we attend in most American synagogues today were created to
answer the needs of previous generations. They reflect the societal status
of the Jewish community where they were created as well as the popular
musical styles of the day. The Oranienburgerstrasse Temple in Berlin was
a magnificent cathedral- style building seating 3,000 people. Cantor, choir,
and a newly introduced organ led the prayers in dignity and beauty, to music
composed by the Chief Choirmaster of the Berlin Jewish community, Louis
Lewandowsky The order of prayer - in that imposing setting — spoke of the
newly found wealth and stature of Jewry in late-19 th -century Germany.

Is that worship style really appropriate for most American Conservative
Jews in the 21st Century? What about the stately processionals sung by Span-
ish-Portuguese Jews in 16 th -century Amsterdam, or the emotional refrains
chanted by Eastern European Jews in 19 th -century Warsaw? The answer is
both yes and no. We live in a very unusual time and place. The great grand-
parents of today's American Jews came from all over the world, bringing
with them liturgical traditions developed over hundreds of years. Each of
those traditions reflected the life they had led in the lands from which they
emigrated. Were their lives hard and full of pain, oppression and suffering,
or did they include equal citizenship, with rights and liberties like the rest of
the populace? What was the popular and folk music that the Jewish com-
munities of those countries heard all around them? Were the Jews permitted
to build their synagogue on a main thoroughfare or was their prayer confined
to a small room hidden in a dark alley?

All of these circumstances helped shape a worship style for each Jewish
community that was unique, viable and authentic. And each community tradi-
tion has a place in 21 st -century Jewish American worship because we, like the
rest of America, are a society of immigrants with varied customs from all over
the world. It is this rich variety that distinguishes America — and American
Jewry. And just as the liturgy of our worship is continually changing, so is
its music constantly evolving to meet our needs today. For the past hundred
years American Jews have taken center stage in the evolution of American

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popular culture: Arthur Miller, Leonard Bernstein, Irving Berlin, George
Gershwin, Bob Dylan, Steven Spielberg, Neil Simon, Mel Brooks - the list is
endless. Today's American Jews are integrating this culture into every area
of their lives, including the hours they spend at public prayer.

While American Jews may be relatively secure physically, they (and their
non-Jewish neighbors) face other challenges in a society which is immensely
wealthy, materialistic and impersonal, a culture addicted to food, drugs and
sex, and a populace that commonly mistakes the fantasy of entertainment for
the reality of existence. American Jews have embraced American culture, but
would still like to preserve their past. They want to celebrate their position
in American life, but they also need to feel connected to their community
and their God.

IMPLEMENTATION

As a hazzan, my mission is to help them maintain that balance through an
innovative worship style based on models developed by B'nai Jeshurun in
New York and Beth Yeshurun in Houston, two of the more forward-look-
ing Conservative congregations in the United States. That type of service,
parts of which I outline below along with directions for performing them,
integrates popular, chasidic and classic Jewish music styles into worship that
is accessible to congregants of all ages, those with and without a knowledge
of Hebrew and prayer skills.

The melodies used throughout the service can be introduced via the Hebrew
School music program and over the course of many Friday nights leading up
to the special service's debut. But its music alone is not what makes Friday
Night Alive - Without Instruments! stand out. It invites everyone present to
participate almost totally. It tries to bring people together. Its goal is to bring
a fresh, engaging Shabbat spirit to anyone who might feel disenfranchised, and
to give them the opportunity to worship within the family of a community.

It achieves all this by not interrupting the flow of prayer with readings or
announcements. At the outset, the rabbi speaks for five minutes and tells
of upcoming events. Once the service begins, it runs without interruption,
following the traditional text of the liturgy while still allowing time for private
meditation and introspection during the singing of wordless nigunim. It man-
ages to hold the interest of everyone including teenagers, with neither rabbi
nor cantor on the pulpit, supervising, but praying amidst the congregation.

The atmosphere is user friendly. Every attendee is greeted personally and
ushered to a seat by members of the synagogue choir who then sit scattered
among the congregation. Texts to be sung are printed in bold type, with

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transliteration on the facing page for those unable to read Hebrew. This also
allows traditionalist daveners to do so with the unabridged text. For others
who are less familiar with synagogue practice, directions on when to stand,
bow, etc. appear in the siddur.

To help prepare the congregation for this special experience, I produced
and distributed a CD containing all the prayers that would be sung, so that
parents together with their children could listen and learn the melodies.
Neighbors played the CD in their car pools on the way to public and Hebrew
school, and made the prayers a part of their everyday life. When the time
came, they were able to participate fully in the service.

TIME TABLE

9-12 Months Prior to event

1. Pick a date

2. Estimate and submit a budget for approval to committee that will be responsible
for it

3. Arrange for use of the sanctuary and social hall (rehearsals etc.)

4. Contact person in charge of Oneg Shabbat

5. Choose music for your texts

6. Form a committee to assist you in various stages

6 Months Prior to event

1. Arrange your music and buy copies for choirs if available in print, copy oth-

2. Secure permission from composers to use their music on a CD

3. Produce a CD to be distributed to the entire congregation or at least the Hebrew
School. (This could take several months to do)

4. Give a series of classes for the congregation to teach them the music

5. Prepare your choir and/or junior choir to sing the selected texts

6. Prepare a siddur for exclusive use in the service (this could take 4 to 6 weeks)

3 Months Prior to event

1. Distribute CD to Hebrew School students (and congregation)

2. Begin teaching music to Hebrew School children

3. Prepare and put up posters in synagogue and other venues

4. Write a Bulletin article explaining the new service

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1 Month Prior to event

1. Submit publicity to local papers

2. Arrange for announcements to be mad

3. Rehearse service with children and adult choirs

4. Make arrangements with custodians for proper service set up

a. Sound system

b. Arrangements of pews

c. Set up for lecterns

5. Submit payment vouchers to bookkeeper

Day before event

1. Set up the sanctuary

2. Check sound system

3. Check with custodial staff all that they will be responsible for

4. Full rehearsal of the service with choirs, etc.

PROGRAM

The following are examples of music you can use without instruments. Short
texts repeated over and over work best, especially for worshipers who can't
read Hebrew.

Hallelu (Pakistani melody)

A good opener, very popular melody and easy to sing. Begin slowly and softly,
repeat three to four times speeding up slightly at each repetition and increase
volume. Slow down and sing softly the last time to bring back to a calming

Tov L'hodot (Chasidic, arrangement by Mark Biddelman)

Nice easy tempo, about 90. Repeat two or three times . The lai lai lai section

becomes a mantra; finish with an extra 8 measures of the lai lai lai.

Tzaddik Katamar (Louis Lewandowski)

An elegant setting with a contemporary feel, especially if harmonized with its

original "echo" effect by choir members scattered among the congregation.

Ahavat Olam (traditional, adapted by Moshe Nathanson)

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I learned this melody about forty years ago from my friend Israel Barzak, and
my congregation loves it. The closing blessing is chanted by the hazzan using
correct nusach. Tempo is approximately 110, rather lively.

V'ahavta (according to trop)

Siddur Sim Shalom is printed with the te'amim; this is a great way to show how
we have extracted and used Torah texts throughout the siddur.

Chatsi Kaddish (Mark Biddelman)

Children and adults enjoy singing this. In this service it's very fast, tempo

around 158. Try hand clapping (2 claps) on rests every eight measures.

Kadsheinu (Shlomo Carlebach)

Begin slowly (about 66) and quietly, repeat two or three times speeding up

and increasing volume and energy at each repetition. Slow down at the end

to original tempo and volume.

MUSIC EXAMPLES

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Example 5. Kad'sheinu

Mark Biddelman has been the hazzan of Temple Emanuel in WoodcliffLake, NJ since
1967. An accomplished guitarist and composer, he thanks his colleagues Ira Biegel-
eisen, Sheldon Levin and David Propis for many of the concepts and procedures that
appear in this article, and welcomes reader inquiries tropmark@optonline.net.

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Chavurat HaZemer —

An Informal Congregational Singing Group

by Iris Beth Weiner

I am a firm believer that we must create as many doors of entry into congre-
gational life as possible. Each member finds a place in a congregation accord-
ing to the activities he or she enjoys - one loves the hazzan, another loves
the sermon; some love the courses, others love the sisterhood/brotherhood,
school, etc. The greater the number of entry doors, the greater the chance
of attracting and retaining active members. A congregational singing group
opens a door for participating in congregational life meaningfully and in a
unique way.

Many years ago I was the hazzan at Beth Am Congregation in Baltimore
when they celebrated the synagogue's chai anniversary which coincided
with the 90 th birthday of its founder and spiritual leader, Dr. Louis Kaplan.
Dr. Kaplan was a legend in Baltimore, small in stature but larger than life in
personality and knowledge. This was the third synagogue he had been instru-
mental in creating, and those who loved him wanted to pay a fitting tribute
to the man and the inspiration he was for our community. Among the many
tributes being planned, I was asked to create a unique musical experience on
Shabbat which would involve as many congregants as possible.

We had a small volunteer choir of a dozen voices at the time. I was thinking
about how to expand it when I lit upon the idea of a congregational singing
group - a chorus of voices that would fill the room with a loving musical
tribute. The only condition for admission would be a love of singing and a
desire to pay tribute to Dr. Kaplan. Anyone who wanted to sing, regardless
of background or musical ability, would be invited to join. I would teach
them the music and give them tapes and texts to study at home. I based the
congregational singing group on the idea that its volunteer members were
busy people who would not be able to commit to a time-intensive endeavor. I
wanted to create a user- friendly framework which would enable anyone who
was so inclined, to participate.

I offered four opportunities to learn the songs. Out of the four, I reckoned
that everyone could find at least one that fit their schedule. Each participant
needed to attend only one learning session of about two hours — I would be
at every one to teach the songs and hand out the tapes and texts. In addition,
there would be one general rehearsal of the same duration. I selected music

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that was fun to sing and easily learned: Issachar Miron's , Mah Yafeh HaYom
(Example l) 1 ; and Debbie Friedman's Kaddish DeRabbanan (Example 2) 2 .

Sha- bat, sha - bat_ sha - lorn, sha - ba

Example 1. Issachar Miron's Mah Yafeh Hay om.

For our tea - chers ancL their stu - dents and the_
F G A A/C* Dm Am/C

.

-dents of the stu- dents, we
D F

ask for peace and lov- ing_kind-ness and let us say,
G A Dm G

f

- men. And for those who
Dm G

stud - y To - rah here and ev - ry - where,

Dm Gm B^/D Am/C

may they be blessed with

Dm

all they need, and let us say, A - men.

Example 2. Del
1 Manginot, Stephen Richards, ed. (New York: Transcontinental Music, 1992), p.

2 Debbie Friedman Favorites (San Diego: Soundswrite Productions, 1995), p. 43.

221

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Eighty congregants of all ages participated - from age seven to eighty-seven.
They were an impressive group as they filed onto the bimah after Musaf on
Shabbat morning. The sanctuary was completely filled, and the group's en-
thusiasm and excitement came through in their voices. Each of them held a
folder with the words of the songs and a page with the concluding prayers of
the liturgy so they could remain on the bimah and help lead the congregational
hymns that ended the service. When they reached the repetitive chorus in
Kaddish DeRabbanan - "we ask for peace and lovingkindness and let us say,
Amen" - the entire congregation was moved to join in and together they
truly made a 'joyful noise!

It may seem improbable that such a large group could sing together after
only one general rehearsal. However, everyone involved took the event very
seriously and were committed to doing their best. In addition, everything
was well organized: there were ample opportunities to learn together and the
materials they received were clear and easy to study from. Add to this a firm
and clear hand in directing the group and you have a recipe for success.

That event's overwhelming success turned what began as a one-time
activity into a vehicle which could be used again, and for broader goals. We
reactivated the singing group at subsequent special events and it became
yet another way to involve congregants in adding a special dimension to our
celebrations. In addition, through the chorus I could introduce new melodies,
which we incorporated into services as part of an expanding congregational
repertoire. After the chorus would sing a new Sim Shalom, Tsaddik KaTa-
mar or chassidic niggun, everyone would be familiar with it, and adding it
to future services was natural.

When I became the hazzan at Kehillat Mevakshei Derech in Jerusalem
I revived the idea for the Kehillah's 40 th anniversary celebration. Again, the
response to my invitation was overwhelming, and the morning proved an
unqualified success. It was in Israel that the name changed to Chavurat HaZe-
mer. And it was in Jerusalem that the idea took on a new life.

The members of the Chavurah decided that singing together only once or
twice a year was not enough. They wanted to participate in a number of events
on the synagogue calendar, for example: the Chanukah party, Shabbat Shirah,
Yom Ha'atzmaut, Erev Shavuot and one musical Friday Night event.

I eventually had a list of fifty to sixty congregants who were Chavurah
members, of whom twenty-five to thirty participated at each event. If you
were unavailable for one event you could participate the next time. This
meant that the Chavurah has had a different make-up and sound each time

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it appeared. The rehearsal format remains the same. As before, people are
still busy. So I give them several opportunities to come together and learn
the music, plus tapes and texts to study at home. And of course, they still
get one general rehearsal. The music has come from traditional synagogue
repertoire or from Israeli music. All the pieces are on an easy level - unison,
two voices or rounds. Occasionally I add a small percussion instrument, like
a tambourine. On a weekday we have a piano to accompany us; on Sabbaths
and Festivals we have sung A Cappella.
There have been only positive results:

1. Many more congregants are familiar with the prayers and their melo-
dies.

2. The learning process also gives me the opportunity to teach something
about the content and meaning of the prayers we are singing.

3. Many congregants who have become better singers are now more con-
fident about singing out at services and enhancing our congregational
singing generally.

4. Because there is always a core group at services who are familiar with
the new tunes and able to teach by example, I have been able to easily
introduce new melodies into our services, expanding the congregational
repertoire for everyone..

5. Congregants who previously did not participate in group activities at
the Kehillah have found an outlet with the Chavurah.

6. We have attracted people from outside our congregation who have
become members as a result of singing with the Chavurah.

8. The entire congregation looks forward to hearing the Chavurah and has
begun to expect them at special events.

Today the Chavurat HaZemer at Kehillat Mevakshei Derech is going
through another transformation. After three years of occasional performances
the members have now decided they are ready for a more permanent structure.
We will be meeting twice a month, working on our singing technique and
developing a repertoire. We will never be a choir - again, the only condition
for membership is a love of music and a desire to sing. However, as singing
Jewish music has become a more important part of people's lives the Chavurat
HaZemer is becoming a more integral part of the Kehillah and a wonderful
way to enter congregational life and become involved.

*

*

Starting and maintaining an informal congregational singing group may be
labor intensive, but is also a labor of love. The results can be tremendous and
the ripples, or perhaps echoes, can be felt and heard long after the last note
sounds. It is a door that, once opened, brings through its portals a wealth of
opportunities to involve people in synagogue life and touch their lives with
the language we all understand best - music.

The Cantors Assembly's only female member to hold a pulpit in Israel, Beth Weiner
is hazzan at Jerusalem's Kehillat Mevakshei Derech where she directs theEzri Uval
Center for Jewish Music. She also trains rabbinic students in nusach and Tefillah
at the Schechter Institute for Jewish Studies

+

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♦

Literary Glimpses of the Cantorate

The Jew Who Destroyed the Temple

by Abraham Reisen (1876-1953)

My neighbor in the country village where I spent my vacation was an Ameri-
can citizen named Henry Rose. His house, which he owned, stood next door
to my hotel. He had lived in the village for several years and had prospered
enough to allow leisure time in which to enjoy himself.

And he was particular about who he would spend his time with. Proud
of having acquired his citizenship, he knew the Constitution of the United
States practically by heart, along with the names of every senator and well
placed Republican congressman, all of whom he respectfully addressed with
the title, "Honorable." He felt very strongly about his adopted country and
would not tolerate any disparagement of its institutions.

Luckily for me, Henry Rose still found it easier to converse in Yiddish than
in English, and so, we spoke momeh-loshn to one another. If we happened to
be outdoors and a native villager approached us, Rose would cut short our
discourse and greet the passerby with, "How do you do, Mr. Nelson? Nice
day. .but maybe 'twill rain later?"

Having delivered this sociable greeting and received the expected "yes"
or "perhaps" in reply, Rose would turn to me and explain in Yiddish who Mr.
Nelson was and how they came to be friends. Then he would tell me how
well he got along with Americans, the finest of people, "and furthermore," he
would whisper in my ear, "they are better than our fellow-Jews."

If you are getting the impression that Henry Rose was a Jew-hater (God
forbid), please allow me to disabuse you of that notion. Just the opposite; he
loved Jews. But while he recognized their virtues, he also saw their faults, the
biggest of which was the difficulty they had in Americanizing themselves. "It's
so hard for them," he would sigh; and one could see how much that thought
troubled him.

I asked him to explain exactly what he meant, since the village Jews whom
I met had seemed quite Americanized to me. That's when he related the story
of the temple.

Once some forty or fifty Jewish families had settled in the village (he began),
they felt the need for a house of prayer, or "worship," as it's called in America.
The families weren't particularly observant, but they worried about how it

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♦

would look for the Gentiles; they have their church, we should have ours.
Naturally, Henry Rose wasn't thinking of a study house, a beis medresh, like
the ones back in Europe. He pictured a genteel temple, nestled in a refined
residential street. Instead oi&chazn, a cantor; instead of a rov, a rabbi.

Money was no obstacle; all the Jews (knock wood) were well off. A land-
owner sold them the ground dirt-cheap, because it was for the Jewish "church."
The Jewish families built a lovely temple. Its exterior looked exactly like "theirs,"
in Colonial style. Its interior was, in fact, that of a synagogue. Why did Rose
call it a "temple?" Because he remembered that in the great cities of Europe,
that's what the Jewish upper classes called their synagogue.

"What's the difference between a temple and a bes medresh 7 ." Rose asked
me— and proceeded to answer his own question.

"In a bes medresh everybody davens along, but in a temple the daven'n is
left to the cantor. And the people remain silent or, if someone doesn't want to
leave it entirely to the cantor, they may follow along softly, without disturbing
those around them. And that's the way it went for a few years. Everyone was
afraid to open their mouth during services; it wouldn't have been proper. This
was, after all, a temple."

"However, one fine Summer a bearded stranger moved into the village,
one of those very European-looking Jews, who opened a stationery store and
took up permanent residence. He wasn't really a citizen, you understand,
merely a resident. And I realized (said Rose), that from this Jew we would
not gain much respect among our fellow villagers."

"It wasn't only the beard. After all, real 'Yankees' also wore beards; only
theirs were somehow more acceptable. So, what then was it? This particular
Jew, when he came to a service, had no idea of the difference between a temple
and a bes medresh. When the cantor began, this fellow broke forth in a nigun
as if he were still in Eischischok...I could not believe my ears. He was single-
handedly knocking down everything we had built up over years!"

"After the service I went over to him and remarked quietly, in Yiddish. 'Mis-
ter, this happens to be a temple; here it's not acceptable to daven out loud.'"

"He smiled at me. 'If in America you're allowed to make a shul out of
a church, then it's certainly permissible to make a bes medresh out of a
temple!'"

"And believe me; he carried out his plan, with a vengeance. At Boruch
She'omar he would warble his homegrown nigun and awaken in at least one
other person the urge to join him in singing. Then a third individual, then

*

*

a fourth, until the nigun became a congregational refrain running through
P'sukei D'Zimro. Murmured softly at first, it grew louder and louder at the
Daily Halleluyohs. By Sh'ma Yisroel it had reached the level of a communal
howl, just like in a bes medresh. By the Amidah Repetition the cantor had
forgotten he was supposed to be daven'n from Sulzer's Siddur, and lapsed
into the old nusach with its dozens of responses spiritedly interjected by the
congregation."

"Now, all evidence of a 'temple' style disappeared. We davened plainly and
simply, as our great-grandfathers had davened in the Old Home. We shouted,
we shuckled, and in the Oleinu we even spat..."

Russian-born Abraham Reisen was best known for his poetic lyrics to Yiddish
songs such as Mai Ko Mashma Lon and Zog, Maran. This short story appears in
his three-volume memoir, Episodes From My Life (1929-1935) and is translated
by Joseph A. Levine.

*

♦

Reviews of Books, Recordings and Films

Zamru Lo— The Next Generation-
Congregational Melodies for Shabbat
Compiled and Edited by Cantor Jeffrey Shiovitz
(Cantors Assembly, 2004)

Re vie wed by Robert S. Scherr

In 1968, Moshe Nathanson prefaced the Cantors' Assembly publication of
Zamru Lo Volume I (second edition of the version that had appeared in
1955) with these words:

It is our earnest hope that this book will elevate the musical standards of the
congregational melodies in our Synagogues. The melodies contained in ZAMRU
LO were selected and approved because they are singable, melodic, Hebraically
correct, musical and based on our traditional Nus-haot.

Nathanson presented Zamru Lo as a veritable text book for congregational
participation. It was to be a tool for invigorating worship and for helping to
standardize the repertoire of the postwar American synagogue. Now, Zamro
Lo — The Next Generation continues to fulfill Nathanson's stated goals, on an
even broader scale. Jeffrey Shiovitz has compiled a treasury of beloved tradi-
tional melodies (with attribution, wherever possible) and new melodies from
contemporary composers, bound to become the standards of this century.
With a discerning ear and a collector's judgment, Shiovitz 's work will serve
as a guide to good musical taste, demonstrate sensitivity to text, offer variety
of styles, and become a time capsule of Conservative synagogue practice at
the dawn of the twenty-first century.

In the Kabbalat Shabbat section one finds over twenty versions of the
Shabbat poem L'cha Dodi (pages 20-42). Settings by Lewandowski and Sul-
zer are there, along with melodies from the Breslov Chassidim and Shlomo
Carlebach. Contemporary composers Aharon Bensoussan, Gerald Cohen,
Sol Zim, Debbie Friedman and Michael Isaacson have their say as well, using
their own individual styles. In the 1968 publication, Moshe Nathanson fore-
saw that Zamru Lo would enable congregants to move from one community
to another and find familiar melodies in place because of standardization.
While this work, too, will make many melodies more widely known, it will
also increase the repertoire of singing congregations, significantly augment-
ing the "standard" through which communities can enjoy singing L'cha Dodi
on a regular basis.

228

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♦

The Friday Night section covers about one-third of the 397-page volume,
including all the major prayers of the service. Knowledgeable cantors will
find most, though not necessarily all, of their favorite melodies, and almost
every prayer is bound to have a tune most readers did not know before. Eight
settings oiAhavat Olam (pages 57-65), sixteen for V'shamru (pages 85-100)
and nine for Sh'ma/V'ahavta (pages 67-72) offer not only many choices of
melodies, but also a means of thoughtfully investigating different composers'
musical imaginations and styles. This work should bring to its users a deeper
appreciation of the musical heritage of synagogue practice in our century.

Example 1. L'Cha Dodi by Gerald Cohen
The Shabbat Morning section brings melodies, old and new, for virtually
the entire service. Multiple settings for L'dor Vador (pages 192-204), Yis-
mach Moshe (pages 205-214) or Kadsheinu (pages 222-230), suggest that a
congregational repertoire can expand over a period of years to include many
approaches to a familiar text. Sometimes, short chatimot become singable
melodies, as in EtShem (page 152) or Or Chadash (page 154) or Ham'varech
(page 267), that suggest possibilities for brief congregational singing.

Example 2. Ham'vareich arr. by Moshe Ganchoff

Shiovitz's editorial work is evident in a number of ways. This volume

does not contain every melody ever written for a prayer text. One may well

search in vain for a favorite tune that is missing. There is a balance between

*

♦

old and new, European and American. The compilation is clearly a working
book, not merely a comprehensive catalogue or museum collection. Shiovitz
thoughtfully includes several settings of Sim Shalom that include the word
ba'olam, first added by Jules Harlow who edited Siddur Sim Shalom, official
prayer book of the Conservative Movement since 1985. The word appears
in four of Shiovitz's fourteen settings (pages 249-267), and in only one of
those is it given as an alternative (page 260). Perhaps a second edition can
standardize its usage in all the settings as well as clarify some questionable
attributions. Two examples: The Ahavah Rabah melodies on pages 155-156,
both of which have been popular in American Yeshivot since the 1950s. They
appear here in arranged versions, and should be so labeled. Although in the
last decades of the twentieth century, many Israeli melodies found their way
into congregational singing, most of those melodies will not be found in this
volume. To its credit, Zamru Lo—The Next Generation is not about popular
taste, but rather reflects a synagogue practice guided by the editor's profes-
sional esthetic and years of experience in leading a singing congregation.

Shiovitz has made thoughtful j udgments as to accentuation of the Hebrew,
whenever possible rendering Hebrew according to principles of a living
language, without being pedantic when the obviously Ashkenazic melody
may take liberty with classical syllabic emphases. Occasionally, I found
folk melodies rendered a little differently than I knew them. This volume
is not about trying to defend the definitive version of some widely-known
melodies; rather, it is a successful effort to make these melodies accessible
to a wide— perhaps new— audience. I wish the editor had included dates for
the compositions, where known, because it would have added to readers'
understanding of how the various composers fit within a spectrum running
from "traditional" to "contemporary."

This is a volume that reflects primarily the North American experience.
There are few examples from the Sephardic rite. The melodies selected do
not reflect the entire spectrum of Jewish experience. Rather, in furthering
Moshe Nathanson's 1968 vision, Jeffrey Shiovitz seeks to "answer a profound
need of our Congregations." One can almost hear Nathanson singing this next
generation of Zamru Lo melodies, from Shalom Aleichem to Adon Olam, in
search of the goal expressed by the Shacharit prayer:

B'nachat ruach, b'safah b'rurah uvin'imah k'doshah

*

♦

With delight, clear speech and sacred melody,

Together as one, filled with awe, we sing of God's holiness!

(translation after the New Conservative Machzor of 2008).

Robert Scherr serves as Hazzan of Temple Israel ofNatick, MA, and recently has
been appointed the Jewish Associate Chaplain at Wiliams College in William-
stown, MA

Is There Tefillah After Davenen?

Joseph A. Levine's Rise and Be Seated:
The Ups and Downs of Jewish Worship

(Jason Aronoson, 2001)
Reviewed by Gershon Freidlin

The major works of Joseph A. Levine are encyclopedic; they should be studied
by anyone interested in cantorial music in general and in davenen, specifically.
These works include Synagogue Song in America (with companion CDs) and
Emunat Abba, a published dissertation on the life and works of Abba Yosef
Weisgal.

Rise and Be Seated — an engaging, literate polemic — raises important ques-
tions, surveys Jewish prayer across centuries, tours contemporary North
American worship sites and offers gracious observations both on what is
already good there and what might yet be. It does not approach the stature
of the aforementioned compendia. Although I welcome the author of such
material giving his overview about synagogue sounds, the work suffers from
what I would call the "Stephen Sondheim Syndrome." Sondheim's works are
great only when created with a collaborator; in his case, the choreographer-
director, Jerome Robbins. For Levine, it's the illustrative examples.

When the musical notes are present there is wonderful, clear exposition. In
the current work where the musical notes are not there to speak for themselves,
the text too often rhapsodizes, indulging in literary conceits over- abundantly.
And wit. Joe Levine is very witty. Some of his prose here reflects that — but it
doesn't know when to stop. I know that the author wants to forcefully state

231

*

♦

the case of what transpires when traditional synagogue modes and style are
dropped, where all continuity has been lost. But, I think restraint would have
stated the case as well. It's stated, of course, but there's too much of it

One example here might suffice. The title, Rise and Be Seated, is filled with
meaning and irony; it expresses the inanity of much contemporary public
worship. It should have been allowed to stand — minus the subtitle: The Ups
and Downs of Jewish Worship. Not that this is a bad pun— not bad, but one
that readers should be left to come up with on their own. Instead of being
pithy and piquant the title as it stands, is cluttered.

Rise and Be Seated is annoying and prickly — at the same time it goads me to
both reflection and feeling. I think the reason for the book's being off-center
is that it does not hit home as to why the davenen stopped in North America.
It jumps, kicks and skirts, but doesn't hit that point. I think the reason is
suburbanization. The great synagogues with their cantors were very much
tied to cities. As the disruption caused by transplant to suburbs took root
at about 1950, styles and traditions that had been in place — fashioned by
American Jews — crumbled. For example, there had been a common prac-
tice on Shabbat of Conservative kids — at least, boys — of attending services
in the morning and then going to the movies — often cowboy films — in the
afternoon. Or on Yom Tov, of going to shul in the a.m., then playing baseball
in the p.m. This was an adolescent life style that would have been passed
down— but one which dissembled with the decay of cities. So, too, davenen.
It was a tradition brought from Eastern Europe, although Jewish Moroccans,
Yemenites, Syrians, and Iraqi and Irani also daven (calling it tefillah). Once
there was a move out of cities, Americanization took over in toto; thus ended
the connection to Eastern Europe.

It is interesting in this light that there has been a revival of the instrumental
music of the klezmorim, but not of the vocal repertoire — hazzanut — that
uses the same modes as do the instrumentalists.

Especially considering the latter condition, it is unlikely that a revival of
davenen— in the words of the book: "the received liturgy along with its norma-
tive modes of performance" presented by the "purposeful dialogue between
the congregation and its surrogate in prayer" — is likely, for which the book
holds out hope. For me it would be enough if there were simply installations
in several museums showing what davenen is. I have no hope for a revival.

But Levine does have such hope. He is a gracious man to think, given his
rootedness in davenen, that there may be some valid successor which may
even include davenen on a limited scale. Such graciousness once softened

*

♦

me. I'd attended a "downstairs" minyan in a local shul, that rejected the cantor
upstairs, and whatever he stood for.

That minyan had a lot of community singing, cleansed of many of the modes.
It was comprised of the younger and middle-aged activists of the community
and boasted several rabbis in attendance.

At Ahavah Rabbah, the group would begin a well-known ditty in three-
quarter time. It could have been sung at a campfire or in a saloon, with all the
barflies swinging their steins. To its credit, it wasn't — in Idelsohn's phrase
- galokhisch ("priestly;" i.e., goyish). One clearly recognized the melody as
Jewish (it had originated among students in American yeshivot during the
1950s); but, Ahavah Rabbah it was not. After reading Rise and be Seated,
it occurred to me that this wouldn't be so bad if the congregants sang what
they'd been singing, so long as they'd juxtapose a hazzan chanting in Ahavah
Rabah (the mode, that is) above it. I believe it works musically.

Example I. Ahavah Rabbah — to a Yeshivah nigun in Magen Avot mode with cantor
chanting in Ahavah Rabbah mode above it.

In conclusion, read the book - it's an honest, witty, innovative page turner
— and think; argue. Then make sure you let folks know that this book is by the
author of Synagogue Song in America, which both reader and author should
promote, promote, promote.

A member of the Rabbinical Assembly, Gershon Freidlin studied voice and hazza-
nic repertoire with Moshe Taube, and coached operatic arias with the late Judith
Raskin. The most recent book he has edited is What A Life!, a biography of the
Yiddish musical theater Bur stein family.

*

♦

Two CDs of Victorian Era Music in British Synagogues:
The Western Ashkenazic and Spanish Portuguese Traditions

Reviewed by Laurence D. Loeb

Music of the Victorian Synagogue (Forum FRC 9105), featuring Cantor
Moshe Haschel with the London Jewish Male Choir and the Old Synagogue
Singers under the direction of Clive Hyman, is a somewhat enigmatic offer-
ing. The accompanying notes (which are quite useful) claim: "this recording
aims to combine authenticity and fidelity to the composers' intentions with
aesthetic awareness and artistic judgement." The attempt to do so presents
the performers with a number of problems regarding pronunciation of the
Hebrew, choice of available version, keys, and ensemble makeup. Some the
decisions seem rather strange; e.g., "Rabbinic authorities allowed for the use
of the Divine Name on this recording excepting the Birkas Ovos and Lechoh
Dodi." In the end, the tradeoffs that were made render the result technically
good, but emotionally, often sterile.

Most American hazzanim are probably unfamiliar with the liturgical
repertory of our English colleagues, whose contributions are conspicuously
absent from the Ephros collection 1 and many others. If so, the Victorian
Synagogue CD is a probably a useful introduction to a range of pieces from
England's most important 19 th Century synagogue-music composers. While
dominated by compositions by Julius Mombach, the recording contains im-
portant works by Marcus Hast, Haim Wasserzug and Abraham Saqui. The
latter was probably influential in effecting a fusion of Sephardic melody with
Ashkenazic liturgy into the British scene. Since the majority of composers
were born in Germany, it not surprising that much of the recording sounds
closer to German hazzanut than East European.

My favorite pieces from the recording are Julius Mombach's Lechoh Dodi for
S'firah and Marcus Hast's Kaddish for the eve of Pesach. I would consider the
Lechoh Dodi a gem! Many of the other pieces seem anachronistic, and except
for the clever use of holiday motifs in the Festival liturgy, rather uninterest-
ing. The use of countertenors to achieve authenticity further diminishes the
aesthetic value of the project. The performers are certainly adequate, though
not spectacular.

A Sephardi Celebration (Classical Recording Co. CRC 1416-2) features
Hazzan Adam Musikant with the Choir of the Spanish and Portuguese Jew's

1 Gershon Ephros, ed., Cantorial Anthology, in six volumes (New York: Bloch
Publishing Co., 1957-1977).

*

♦

Congregation, London, under the direction of Maurice Martin. Here too,
adherence to tradition and authenticity are stated objectives of the recording.
This Compact Disc is seen as a possible first of several to document the British
Sephardic tradition; a set of LPs— long out of print— documented liturgical
highlights of the entire year back in the 1950s. Here, children are used to
brighten the sound, though harmonizing seems to be secondary to singing
the melody line. The mannered performance is mostly quite pleasant, and
though not particularly energetic, rather engaging.

Of Sephardic descent on my mother's side, my only exposures to Sephardic
liturgy were occasional visits to Shearith Israel Congregation in New York
during my impressionable teen years. Chacham 2 David de Sola Pool was still
in his prime and Reverend Lopez Cardoza, now retired, was then a young
hazzan. Lately, release of the three-CD set Historic Music of the Spanish and
Portuguese Synagogue in the City of New York (available from Shearith Israel
Congregation) and Musique de la Synagogue de Bordeaux (Melodie 822742)
together with this disc enables one to become better acquainted with this
"other" European hazzanic tradition. The stiff formalism of A Sephardi Cel-
ebration reflects customary Spanish-Portuguese synagogue behavior. The
recording quickly transported me back to my amazing teenage encounter
with top hats, tails and formal bowing during removal and return of the Torah
scroll from and to the Heichal (Ark).

The recorded music includes "traditional" melodies shared with Sephardim
elsewhere, e.g., Et Sha'arei Ratson, Mizmor L'David and El Nora Alilah (the
latter two known and used in Ashkenazi synagogues in the U.S.), as well as
pieces composed by local hazzanim, mostly during the nineteenth and twen-
tieth centuries. Compositions by non-Jewish composers are also included in
the repertory, e.g., Hashivenu by Charles Garland Verrinder and a Chanukah
En Kelohenu from G.F. Handel's Judas Maccabeus/Joshua oratorios - the
melody is found in both! (The notes, which are fairly helpful, defensively
argue that this melody is found in a 6 th century Armenian tradition and "so
it is probable that is was already in use by Jews in ancient times, pre-sixth
Century".. .a highly imaginative, but not especially compelling claim.)

One should not be surprised to learn from these recordings that, similar
to the Ashkenazic synagogue music tradition, the much smaller Spanish-
Portuguese practice exhibits musical variation, indigenous composition, and
evolving style differences which could already be discerned from published
materials, but which are so much more vivid in actual performance.

2 Honorific title given to Sephardic rabbis who are ripe in both years and wisdom.

*

♦

Ashkenazic and Sephardic synagogue music differs considerably, not only
melodically and stylistically, but arguably, even in intention. The former has
long solo, elaborate and often dramatic recitative, periods of silence punctu-
ated by the hazzan cueing the congregation, congregational response, and
in its most elaborate variation, multipart choir performance elaborating and
expounding the text by itself or in concert with the hazzan. The Spanish-
Portuguese custom is for the shali'ach tsibbur to recite the entire text out
loud, with scarce dramatic interpolation. The choir responds and leads the
congregation, and only rarely engages in elaborate concert with the shali'ach
tsibbur. Indeed, even in Mizrachi (Middle Eastern) communities, dramatic
evocation with passionate emotional involvement of congregants is most
unusual. At one time it was characteristic of the prayer, Shevet Y'hudah, cus-
tomarily chanted during severe drought in Yemen, and in the interpolation of
Judeo-Persian interpretive chanting of High Holyday piyyutim and s'lichot,
Tishah BAv Kinnot and Tikkun Hoshannah Rabbah — especially dmingP'tirat
Moshe (Moses' death). These practices, however, were already on their way
to extinction when I visited Shiraz, Iran, in the late 1960s.

The above-mentioned distinctions in Ashkenazic and Sephardic practice
are not readily apparent on these recordings. Neither CD offers enough
solo singing to clearly identify any style difference. Performance on the
Victorian Synagogue CD seems essentially lifeless and mannered, far more
similar to the traditional Sephardic nuance than to the German tradition
whence this "Victorian" practice arose. Chant on the Sephardi Celebration
CD is quite lovely with an excellent blend of male voices, but the typical nasal
voice production has been diminished to the point where it almost parallels
contemporary Israeli Hebrew pronunciation. If these recordings are indeed
representative of British liturgical practice during the late-nineteenth and
early-twentieth centuries, then a real fusion of the two musical traditions
may be in the offing.

Both CDs are available by email: orders @jewishmusic-jmd.co.uk

Laurence D. Loeb has served as hazzan of Congregation KolAmi in Salt Lake City
for twenty-six years and is Associate Professor of Anthropology and also teaches
at the Middle East Center of the University of Utah. He is currently preparing a
study on the Jews of South Yemen.

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The Memoirs and Recordings of a British Cantor/Survivor

Charles Lowy's In and Out of Harmony: The Memoirs
Charles Lowy: The Lost Recordings

Reviewed by Abraham Salkov

These two items paint a multimedia portrait of a wonderful cantor, an unas-
suming yet heroic man who survived Hitler's inferno. They were produced by
his children, Leonard Lowy and Helen Montague, in loving memory of their
extraordinary father. The book, In and Out of Harmony, includes Charles
Lowy's reminiscences of his narrow escapes from several death camps during
the Holocaust, as well as a biography and a section of photographs showing
him at different stages of his career as cantor in Hungary, Scotland and Eng-
land. It is available in the UK from lowy@leonardlowy.co.uk.

The CD of his recordings that were thought to be lost until a few years ago

— Charles Lowy: The Lost Recordings — offers a precious reminder of true
hazzanut from the recent past. It left this reviewer with conflicting emotions

- exultation mixed with sadness. There was exultation in Cantor Lowy's
gorgeous interpretation of the prayers, and sadness in the knowledge that
this blossom is fast fading. We must try to understand why this is so, and if,
indeed, the situation can be remedied.

Lowy's generation as well as that of my father, and to some degree my
own, prayed to and for congregants who may or may not have been as well
educated as today's worshipers. But they were shul-going Jews who knew
the liturgy. These were also people who cut their teeth on nusach hat'fillah,
who lived and breathed the prayer modes. They could, therefore, appreciate
the hazzan's modulations and even digressions from what might usually be
expected in an interpretation of text, always certain that the hazzan would
find his way home.

Today's worshipers might be more sophisticated and even more learned
as a result of having taken Jewish Adult Education courses. And yet, having
been brought up on the "anti-nusach" of Camps Ramah, they now demand
the pap of wall-to-wall congregational participation and have neither the time
nor the inclination to listen to a "concert" at services. The hazzan may wish to
sing to the Supreme Critic on High, but because his role is now mostly limited
to that of song leader, there is no longer a real emotional connection to the
Creator. Nevertheless, these selfsame congregants seem to appreciate great

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cantorial music in concert form, apart from services. Does hazzanut, then,
somehow trigger a nascent nostalgic connection with an ancient tradition?
Perhaps , God willing, these current preferences are cyclical in nature, and a
golden cantorial age will someday return.

A word on Hazzan Lowy's beautiful voice. I had difficulty in deciding
whether it was a lyric baritone with a high tessitura or a spinto tenor with a
powerful middle register. This unusual type of vocal equipment seems to fit
a term coined by an old rabbi whom I got to know during the 1950s while
serving a congregation in Los Angeles. Rabbi Sonderling called it a "Jewish
tenor," a clear and lovely tone with a liquid, facile coloratura.

The CD's first two selections are the compositions of Lowy's grandfather,
Lazar Lowy From them we can see that the apple does not fall far from the
tree. V'se'erav, introduction to the Priestly Duchan'n, and Acheinu Kol Beis
Yisroel from the Weekday Tachanun, are both purely and deliciously modal.
V'se'erav skillfully intertwines a simple Aeolian with a more complex Ukra-
nian/Dorian. Acheinu mixes Aeolian with Ahavah Rabbah, a Phrygian with
its third and sixth degrees raised a semi-tone. Both selections are done in a
way that challenges the ear to follow, yet so easily that it leaves one breathless.
An example of these modes can be found in the Vaichulu of Friday evening
and the Yishtabach of Shabbat morning. I've invented my own term for the
mingling of these modes: "Jewish minor;" realizing, of course, that the terms
minor and major are catagories pertaining to Western (non-modal) music.

We come now to Charles Lowy's V'shomru. The beautiful simplicity of this
composition, melodious and singable in true nusach hat'fillah would, with
elimination of the melisma, lend itself well to congregational singing. This
music leaves one with the spiritual yet almost physical feeling of the Sabbath.
I could practically taste the gefilte fish and cholent.

Nos'uN'horos - the ending of Psalm 93 in the concluding section of Kabbalat
Shabbat - is in what I would designate the "Jewish Mixolydian" mode, with its
tenth degree lowered a half- step. At mikolos mayim adirim, the hazzan sings
a major tenth instead of the minor one called for in the Jewish Mixolydian.
This variation, used by many cantors including my father and my uncle, is a
fine interpretation of the power of the text: "greater than the roar of mighty
waters." The recitative's conclusion, in the East European tradition, is in a
Jewish minor. We are here once again struck by the adherence to nusach.
The Kiddush - composed by Bela Gutmann - is melodically very interesting,
stately and uplifting, yet done in the traditional manner.

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Lazar Lowy's Hey eh Im Pifiyot shows us something of what we have lost
through deletion and substitution. It is a rare departure from the musical core
of the High Holy Day nusach: a prayer in the Ahavah Rabbah mode normally
associated with Shabbat. This piyyut from the High Holy Day Musaf Amidah
repetition, on behalf of those who pray as sh'lichei tsibbur - the congregation's
designated agents in prayer - is a companion piece to Hin'ni and was always
in the hazzan's province. Today it has become an English translation given to
rabbi and congregation to read responsively on behalf of the hazzan - who is
supposedly praying on behalf of them. What a reversal of roles! This prayer
wasn't meant to show off the cantor's versatility or the congregation's read-
ing ability, but to describe the solemnity of the task of leading a worshiping
kahal in prayer.

The recording ends with Sheva Brochos from the wedding ceremony. It is
admirably done. There are no theatrics involved. The hazzan realizes that the
bridal party has stood on its feet long enough; so - no histrionics! I would
strongly suggest that planners of the Cantors Assembly's annual Rozhinke re-
treats for recapturing elements of traditional hazzanut every summer include
some of Cantor Charles Lowy's selections in their lectures and workshops.
The Lost Recordings CD is available from hatikvahmusic.com

A "Jewish tenor" and a Grand Master at Bridge, Abraham Salkov was also a com-
poser (see the "Baruch Haba-Mi Adir" from his unfinished Wedding Service in the
Music section of this issue) and Hazzan Emeritus of Chizuk Amuno Congregation
in Baltimore. He passed away last February, shortly after submitting this review.
Herbert S. Garten ("The Hazzan and the Constitution," Cantors Assembly SO Years
Jubilee Journal, ed. Solomon Mendelson and Jack Chomsky, New York: 1 988, pages
376-381) wrote of Hazzan Salkov:

His petition before the Tax Court of the United States in 1966 was the pivotal
casein the history of the cantor's status vis-a-vis the Internal Revenue Service.
Decided in his favor, it established that a full-time cantor, commissioned by the
Cantors Assembly of America and installed by a congregation, is a 'minister of
the gospel' entitled to exclude the portion of his [later, her as well] remunera-
tion received as a rental allowance from his gross income, under section 107(2),
I.R.C. 1954.

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The Hasidic Nigun

As Sung By The Hasidim

2-CD set & booklet published by
The Jewish Music Research Center, Jerusalem
Reviewed by Sam Weiss

These captivating and energetic performances are accompanied by 80 pages
of informative liner notes that by themselves are a valuable resource on the
sociology and musical practices of contemporary Israeli hasidim and, by ex-
tension, hasidim worldwide. Besides elucidating the recordings, the text can
be enjoyed independently, especially as a complement to the 1971 article by
the same authors in the Encyclopedia Judaica (7: 1421-32).

The entire project is built on the foundations of the 1976 LP & booklet
Hasidic Tunes Of Dancing And Rejoicing, also published by The Jewish Music
Research Center in Jerusalem. Indeed, nine of the forty-seven selections (along
with much of their commentary) also appear in the former anthology. Much
of the introductory text to the current volume also derives from the first col-
lection, but even the older material has not been cut-and-pasted; rather, every
paragraph shows signs of careful editing, freshening and cross-referencing,
so that there is little repetition and a great deal of information packed inside
the eighty little pages (translated from the Hebrew original, which is also
included).

As one who has long enjoyed the original hassidic anthology (and relied on
it in teaching the subject), I was glad to reacquaint myself with the poignant
voices of Mendel Britchko and Shmuel Zalmanoff and hear additional nigunim
which didn't make the cut on the first album. Britchko? Zalmanoff? Not
exactly household names, but therein lies the principal charm of this album:
a wide variety of nigunim pure and simple (and not-so-simple), sung princi-
pally in the late 1960s and 1970s by individual singers and gatherings of has -
sidim whose ears had not yet been polluted by the Ortho-Pop soundtracks.
Just Hasidim singing their souls in a variety of settings; it almost feels like
eavesdropping.

The value of these field recordings extends beyond the strict boundaries
of Hasidic music. As living exponents of a continuous East-European Jewish
song tradition, these singers have a lot to teach Jewish musicians in the areas
of melodic phrasing and rhythmic subtleties. Exploring these prayers, nigunim

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and Yiddish songs will help contextualize many components of the Klezmer
repertoire, and will enrich the style of the hazzan or ba'al tefillah.
The album is available in the U.S. from hatikvahmusic.com.

Sam Weiss teaches Music of the Hasidim at the Academy for Jewish Religion &
has contributed numerous articles to the Journal of Synagogue Music, including
an entry in this issue's Symposium on Congregational Singing, from the Hasidic
viewpoint.

Atchalta DiG'ula or, The Last Hurrah?

The Cantor's Tale:

Erik Greenberg Anjou's Film on Jacob Ben-Zion Mendelson

Reviewed by Gershon Freidlin

Although the title of the documentary about the ever-witty Jackie Mendel-
son suggests a ready pun, the work is no laughing matter. It is, as we used
to say in Israel, sug ben-le'umi: of international quality, not merely for tribal
consumption.

The film is woven of three strands: Mendelson's personal family life, espe-
cially as it leads him to become a hazzan; his reverence for nusach, including
his ability to pull its sounds out of people from the bakeries of Borough Park to
the beaches of Tel Aviv, from young and from aging; and lastly, Borough Park
itself, out of which our subject emerged. The Borough Park story, its change
from Modern Orthodox center where "chazones was in the air" to frum-farm,
forms the ground of the film, but is not developed within it. All to the good,
otherwise the elegant narrative would have been overwhelmed.

The "chazones was in the air" theme is wistfully mentioned as a refrain
throughout the film, and given a twist late within it when the subject intones,
"chazones is in the air!" The case for that updating is made by Mendelson
himself throughout as he accosts friends, colleagues, strangers and students,
telling them to chant nusach, either by themselves or with our hazzan's aid.
He gets an amazing number of folk to do that: old-timers in Borough Park;
little kids in his Westchester, New York congregation; and big kids at Hebrew

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Union College where he teaches. He includes, too, his share of Borough Park-
raised celebrities like Alan Dershowitz and Jackie Mason.

The most moving nusach-vignette takes place on the Tel Aviv beach
where Jackie is filmed with two beach bums. (Not a pejorative, but substi-
tute, "denizens of the sand," if you prefer.) One of these men, long-haired
and scantily-clad, does a good, albeit self-conscious duet with Mendelson.
Another, in full Yogic lotus posture and bouncing around the sand, says that
when amidst his meditations he heard the hazzan's chant, he was sure that
mashi'ach had arrived.

Yet, if one is to conclude that a revival for nusach is upon us (but, who knows
mashi'ach's taste: it may be for Debbie Friedman material) the film offers us
Friedman's sobering comments about any American re-interest in nusach. I
personally believe that social forces stand against such a revival. Nusach was
nurtured here in an urban culture like that of old Borough Park. This has been
dismantled by suburbanization. Even where folks either continue to live in
cities or return to them, the 'burbs still triumph. A driving culture as in the
suburbs now exists even in cities. Huge numbers drive, public transportation
has weakened, and people do not take to the sidewalks as they once did. For
this purpose it matters not that they refrain from driving on Shabbat; driving
still prevails. From the film, I was gratified to see that even in the ultra-frum
Borough Park of today, an awareness of chazones is still present. I'd have
thought that it would have been suppressed as an impious frill.

There is one consideration that might lend encouragement to a nusach
revival. Namely, that the American ear has already accepted the synagogue
modes — through instrumental klezmer music. If instrumental, why not vocal?
I have no non-speculative answer to this assertion; there may be something
to it.

Yet there is a further condition to be fulfilled, I believe, before we see a
revival of nusach: Is chazones prayerful? (Not that I know a better system.)
Does one pray better when the hazzan sets the material out there for a con-
gregation to hear? I personally do, but in general, does hazzanut promote
prayerfulness?

There seems to be some openness in America now for praying, but will
hazzanut bridge a gap? Hazzanut no doubt is a road to the Jewish soul, which
it then expresses brilliantly. But, is it prayer?

This is not a question answered by the film, nor do I expect it to be. Not
from either The Cantor's Tale nor from possible subsequent collaborations
by Hazzan Mendelson with his producer/director, Erik Greenberg Anjou. I

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hope a sufficient amount of footage remains that was not used in the film,
and that Mendelson and Anjou are able to produce that footage. I also urge
that they not worry if their next product does not reach the artistry of their
first. It does not have to: even as archival material, it will be both interesting
and important.

Pittsburgh-based Rabbi Gershon Freidlin is the founder of Jacob's Dream, a project
that prepares materials on the arts, urban issues and Jewish lore. The Cantor's Tale
is distributed by Ergo Media ofTeaneck, New Jersey.

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Music, Old and New
Shabbat

Cantor's Solo in Congregational

Yedid Nefesh

(Follows first verse of Melody 01
page 12 of Zamru Lo —The Nex

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Congregational Sim Shalom

Congregation Shalom Kali

Simsha-lom, to-vah uv' ra-cha, chen.va- che-sed v' - ra - cha- mini

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Festivals

♦

Congregational Adir Adireinu

Congregational V'kareiv P'zureinu

Recorded by Mordechai Hen

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High Holy Days

Congregational M'Chalkel Chayim

ach y' - shu

' cha - yeh u-rr

Havein Yakir Li Efrayim

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Life Cycle Events

From an Unfinished

Wedding Service

Con Brio

Baruch Haba

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Birkat SheHecheyanu

Richard M. Berlin

Copyright © 2005 • Prose & Con Spirito,

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lai lai daidairai daidai lai daidairai lailai lai daidairai daid

-=60

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•T LH.B <- 3 j—

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The most authoritative guide on cantillation,
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Like the original edition, it includes an explanation of the tradition
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well as in print. Charts, helpful hints, pronunciation guide,
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The Journal of Synagogue Muaie

Our Fall 2006 issue will feature

The Use of Music Therapy in Empowering
Those with Special Needs
and

The Role of Music in Planning Curriculum for
Supplementary and Day Schools —

articles that show how cantors can prepare even severely
handicapped children and adults for participation in life-cycle
observances and group performances — and how music can drive
the implementation of curricular goals in religious education.

Other articles:

♦ On the Disappearance of MiSinai Motifs

♦ Recalling Max Wohlberg and Miriam Gideon

♦ Hiring Cantors in Nineteenth-Century Alsace

♦ Three Masters of the London "Blue Book"

♦ A Rabbi/Hazzan Reports on Germany Today

and much more!

Annual subscription: $10; single issue: $15. Add $10 for foreign
air mail. MAIL CHECK to Cantors Assembly, 3080 Broadway
#606, New York, NY 10027 — or FAX to 212-662-8989 using
VISA, AMERICAN EXPRESS, DISCOVER or MASTER CARD.

Please send all requests for subscriptions and address changes to
The Editor: Dr. Joseph A. Levine, 1900 Rittenhouse Square,
Philadelphia, PA 19103, or E-mail idlevine(S>comcast,net

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