Cantors Assembly Journal of Synagogue Music

WORDS ABOUT MUSIC

SAMUEL ROSENBAUM

CANTORS ASSEMBLY

150 FIFTH AVENUE
NEW YORK, NEW YORK 10011

WORDS ABOUT MUSIC

What follows is a sampling of the columns which I
have Written for my congregational Bulletin over the
past years. Some of them are on universal subjects and
are applicable to all congregations; others deal more
specifically with events which took place here in
Temple Beth El in Rochester, New York.

It seems to me there are two ways in which these
can be used. The first is to reprint them, as is. In
that case I would appreciate it if the credit were
given both to the author and to the congregation's
Bulletin.

The second way is to use the ideas of these columns
to guide you to writing your own.

In either way, you could return the favor by
sending me copies of whatever you do print.

On Life and Beauty

Judaism's flexibility and rationality are among its
greatest virtues. In spite of what many think, even the
most Orthodox practice can be modified or even discarded
at certain times.

When there is no wine one may make Kiddush over beer.
In an emergency involving human life one may be exempted
from observing the Sabbath. The Baal Shem Tov once
commanded his congregation to eat on Yom Kippur because a
plague was then raging in his country. Another great
hasidic saint, in the late nineteenth century, ordered his
congregation to bring money to the synagogue on Yom Kippur
because the lives of two Jews of that community had to be
ransomed from the Czar. While worship in the company of a
minyan is desirable, one may pray at home by himself.

But, music is a facet of Jewish life which cannot be
discarded. In most cases we could not omit it, even if we
decided to do so. Can you imagine merely reading the
Sabbath Kiddush? Can you imagine Kol Nidrei without its
plaintive and stirring melody? Can you imagine the prayer
for the dead, El Maleh Rahamim, without its mournful chant?
Talmudic study is impossible without the sing-song tunes to
mark question, conjecture and answer.

Music plays a unique role in the life of the Jew.
Certainly, it enhances life; but it is far more than that.
We study, pray, celebrate and mourn in the language of
music. It is a part of life's fabric. In many cases it is
the fabric itself.

Once more, a careful and knowledgeable reader catches
us in an error. Some time ago, in connection with thoughts
on the inescapable presence of music in Jewish life, we
carelessly made the statement "where there is no wine one
may make Kiddush over beer. "

Dr. Joseph Noble, who knew better, was kind enough to
point out my error and to send along the following addi-
tional information which we are pleased to share with our
readers .

While most people associate the word "Kiddush" with
the blessing borei p ' ri haqafen, there is a definite
difference between the way we use wine in our sacred
rituals. The term "Kiddush" is applied only to the bene-
diction which we recite over wine on Friday evening or on
the opening evening of a festival. This Kiddush should be
recited over wine. When there is no wine available it may
be recited over bread. The "Kiddush" which is recited
following the morning service on Sabbaths or festivals is
called " Kidusha Rabba " and may be recited over wine or over
any other beverage if wine is not available.

Our statement concerning making Kiddush over beer would
have been correct had we indicated that this was permissible
at the Havdalah ceremony. The Shulkhan Arukh (96.3) says,
"Just as it is mandatory to sanctify the Sabbath on its
inception, so is it mandatory to sanctify the Sabbath on
its conclusion over a cup of wine. This is the Havdalah
ceremony. When wine cannot be procured, Havdalah may be
pronounced upon another beverage which is the national
drink, water excepted. " Some authorities say that even
milk may be used for Havdalah. Eisenstein states "One may
use sweet tea or sweet coffee. "

Wine is also used for the benedictions at a circum-
cision. Here only wine may be used, no substitutes are
indicated. At a Pidyon HaBen the benediction should be
said over a goblet of wine. if none is available any
beverage may be used. In a wedding ceremony, if no wine is
available the benedictions may be recited over beer. If
neither wine nor beer is available the borei p ' ri haqafen
is omitted and only the betrothal benediction is recited.
At the Passover Seder only wine is prescribed. One who
abstains from wine during the rest of the year because it
might be injurious to his health should, nevertheless, try
to drink the prescribed four goblets. He may dilute the
wine with water or he may drink raisin wine instead.

We are grateful for the additional information which
this error has elicited from Dr. Noble. However, all of
the foregoing only serves to underline the point which the
original column made; that while in many cases substitutes
for ritual items are permitted, the chant or tune which
accompanies the ritual is indispensible.

Just to be safe, however, we are laying in a large
supply of Israeli wine for Passover. We urge our friends
to do likewise.

On the Office of Hazzan

The Bible affords no evidence of congregational
prayer. While there are numerous citations of personal,
individual prayers, no systemized routine is mentioned.
Worship was carried on through the sacrificial regimen in
the Temple in Jerusalem.

In order to broaden participation for Jews who did not
live in Jerusalem, representatives of each community were
invited to participate with the Priests and the Levites on
a rotating basis in the sacrifice of animal offerings.
When a representative of a far-off community was on duty at
the Temple, those who remained at home were required to
gather together at specific times to read appropriate
sections from the Torah. These groups were known as
maamadot and from this primitive assembly did the synagogue
develop.

When the Temple was destroyed by the Babylonians in
586 BCE and the Israelites taken away into captivity, the
sacrificial regimen was abandoned. it was deemed in-
appropriate to recreate Temple activity on foreign soil so
long as the Temple lay in ruins.

The captives, in need of some spiritual ties with
their homeland and with their past, gradually began to
substitute prayer, the offering of the heart, for sacrifice.
By the time they were permitted to return to Palestine, in
536, the tradition of oral prayer, although not yet
systematized, was well established.

Groups of worshippers formed themselves into a
knesset and chose as their leaders a Rosh haKnesset and a
Hazzan haKnesset. The latter was not a prayer-leader, but
probably an administrative official or caretaker; however,
here we meet for the first time the term which was to
become the official title of the cantor we know today.

(To be continued)

What It Takes

We continue our informal survey of the development of
the office of hazzan

Traditional literature is studded with a great variety
of qualifications for the office of hazzan, many dating
back to medieval times. What stands out in all of them is
the very sharp difference in the requirements as set down
by the rabbis and those set down by the communities. The
first standards were established in ancient times. The
Mishnah stipulated that the hazzan "be mature, conversant
with the prayers, one who has children and whose heart is
centered on his prayers, "

In the Talmud, Rabbi Judah added to these, stipulating
that the hazzan be one "burdened by labor and heavy family
obligations but who does not have enough to meet them, one
who draws his sustenance from the field and whose house is
empty, whose youth is unblemished and who is meek and
acceptable to the people, who is skilled in chanting with a
pleasant voice and who possesses a thorough knowledge of
the Tanach and is conversant with the Midrash, with Halacha
and Agadot and all the liturgical benedictions . "

Additional requirements were that he should wear a
full grown beard as evidence of maturity. Rabbi Judah the
Prince, specified that the hazzan be no younger than
twenty years.

Over the ages still more qualifications were added.
It is obvious, however that neither then nor now is it easy
to find an ideal hazzan, although Jewish knowledge, piety,
a pleasant voice and musical skills certainly head every-
one's list of qualifications.

A rather bright student with whom I had occasion to
discuss the requirements of poverty and extreme need, asked
me why I thought such qualifications were imposed. I
answered that the rabbis believed that the hazzan must be
one of the people, closely associated with their needs and
problems. Since most congregations consisted of poor
people it seemed reasonable that the hazzan should also be
poor, and thus better able to understand their needs from
personal experience. The young man thought a while and
asked what would the rabbis have required of a hazzan who
served a rich congregation. Should he not likewise be of
the same status so that he could understand the needs and
problems of the rich?

I could not give him an answer but I patted him
fondly on the head.

More on the Hazzan

From time to time we have been pursuing an informal
study of the development of the role of the hazzan in the
synagogue. As a by-product of these studies, one must come
to the conclusion that Ecclesiastes was right — that there
is nothing new under the sun.

A case in point :

It was during the seventh century that great amounts of
poetic insertions into the service (piyutim) began to make
inroads on the Sabbath and holiday services. The early
hazzanim, as you may remember, were not only musicians, but
often wrote the words of the piyutim as well . Since the
piyutim were poetic in form it was not difficult to find
melodious and pleasant tunes to accompany them. These
became popular with the masses with the result they cut
into the time normally allotted for lectures (not sermons)
by the medieval rabbis .

Some scholars maintain that the piyutim became more
popular than the rabbinic lecture because the latter were
spoken in Hebrew, which had become foreign to the Jews of
the Islamic lands who spoke Arabic. However this theory
does not really hold up. The poetry, like the lectures,
was written in Hebrew, and the poetic style probably made
it more difficult for the average Jew to understand than
the rather straight-forward Hebrew of the Sabbath or
holiday lectures.

Perhaps we are patrial, but it does not seem unreason-
able to conclude that the popularity of the piyutim was due
more to the music than to language differences. The truth
is, that the masses did not understand either the words of
the lectures or the words of the prayers. it was easier
for them to listen to the melodic song than to a learned
discourse. Furthermore, when the Emperor Justinian pro-
hibited study and preaching, the Jew substituted the
piyutim, whose content was based on the same raw material.
Thus, the medieval hazzan took the place of the preacher by
chanting liturgical compositions saturated with excerpts
from Jewish tradition. The musical and poetic additions
complicated the service in a technical sense. While layman
could lead the daily services, the Sabbath and holiday
services now required the hand of an expert. And so, the
role of the hazzan developed along these lines.

The resulting conflict continued almost to modern
times. The rabbis, on one hand, trying to maintain the
austerity of the service; the hazzan, on the other hand,
trying to reflect and to respond to the mood and need of
the masses.

Some Guides for the Perplexed Hazzan

The Shulhan Arukh is a compendium of laws governing
every aspect of living as a Jew. The codes which pertain
to the Hazzan are found throughout many sections of the
Shulhan Arukh. They deal not with theoretical matters but
with practical ones: personal preparation for the Hazzan,
the attitude of the Hazzan toward the liturgy, requirements
and qualifications of the Hazzan, special procedures for
the Amidah, the order of the services on Sabbath, festivals
and holy days, the blowing of the Shofar and the reading
from the Torah .

Here are some of the items which regulate the manner
in which the Hazzan carries out the functions of his office:

"Since prayer, service of the heart, takes the place
of sacrifice, the Hazzan, standing before the Ark repre-
sents the image of the Kohen of old. it follows that many
of the strict requirements of that office also apply to the
Hazzan. The rabbis suggest that " . . .he should be a modest
person, pure in conduct and thought, crowned with a good
name and beloved by his congregation. He should have a
sweet voice and be adept at reading the Torah and the
Prophets and know the philosophical, historical and literal
meaning of the liturgy of the entire year.

"The Hazzan may not stand at the Amud in soiled or
torn clothing. It is desirable that he should wear a
special robe and head-covering while leading in prayer.
He should wear a tallit whenever he stands at the Amud,
even at evening services when a tallit is not required.

"When chanting a brakha the Hazzan must be careful to
stop after 'Barikh ata Adonai, ' so that the congregation
may respond, 'Barukh Hu uvarukh Shmo, ' (Blessed is He and
blessed is His name) . He must also pause at the conclu-
sion of each benediction so that the congregation may
answer 'Amen. '

"When he reads from the Torah the Reader must be care-
ful to recite each word from the scroll. He may not chant
even one word from memory.

"The Hazzan who prolongs the prayers with song 'for
the sake of Heaven ' and in honor of the Sabbath or a
festival, he is blessed. He who allows his voice to be
heard for his own honor and to gain favor with his listen-
ers, he is unfit for his sacred office. Nevertheless, it

is commendable to extend the Kabbalat Shabbat in order to
show our gratitude and joy for the Sabbath. Likewise, the
Hazzan is bidden to prolong the introductory prayers of the
Maariv service at the end of the Sabbath in order to in-
crease the time of holiness at the expense of the secular. "

An old prayer book contains the following meditation
for the Hazzan to be recited before he rises to chant a
service:

"I beseech Thee, my God and God of my fathers. Be of
assistance to me as I stand in prayer for myself and for
Thy people, the House of Israel . Remove from my mind all
varieties of strange thoughts and anxieties so that my
thoughts be not confused. Strengthen my heart so that my
devotion may be directed to Your Holy Name and my service
be consecrated; that I may have only good impulses and not
be ruled by evil inclinations. And let my heart love and
revere Thee so that I may stand before Thee to serve and to
sing in Thy name. May the words of my mouth and the
meditations of my heart be acceptable before Thee, my Rock
and my Redeemer, Amen. "

More On The Cantorate

It is obvious that the first requirement of a cantor
is that he must possess and know how to use a pleasant
voice. Additional basic requirements are good intonation,
a discriminating musical ear and a broad knowledge of
Judaism, including Hebrew, Bible, liturgy, customs, ritual
and practice. It is also extremely important that a cantor
have a foundation in basic musical skills. It is helpful
if a cantor knows how to play a musical instrument. Contin-
uing vocal, musical and religious study help to improve the
cantor's skills and to broaden the area of his responsi-
bility and concern.

The cantor is one of the ministers of the Jewish faith.
He should be a man of high moral standards and possess the
genuine desire to be of service to others.

A background of participation in synagogue and Jewish
community affairs is most helpful. Jewish education,
active involvement in Jewish youth groups, attendance at
Jewish camps, and participation in junior congregation
services are all means of gaining a proper background.

There are now three schools, one in each of the three
branches of Judaism, where students may prepare for the
cantorate. Depending upon a man's background and ability
the course of study may be completed in three to five years.
Upon graduation the student receives a diploma as a Hazzan.

These schools are: School of Sacred Music of the
Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion (Reform) ,
40 West 68th Street, New York City; Cantors Institute of
the Jewish Theological Seminary of America (Conservative) ,
122nd Street and Broadway, New York City; Cantorial Training
Institute of Yeshiva University (Orthodox) .

Another New Tune?

Perhaps one of the least thankful duties of the hazzan
is his responsibility to refurbish the storehouse of
synagogue music with new tunes from time to time. There
are many reasons why the hazzan considers this a sacred
duty.

For one, rabbinic tradition admonishes us all, aj. taas.
tefilatecha keva, "Don 't, " say the rabbis, "permit prayer
to become routinized. " A new tune can illumine anew some
neglected facet of the ancient words. Then, too, why
should all our music be restricted to melodies born out of
the Jewish experience in Russia, or Roland, or Germany
some century and a half ago?

No art style is eternal. Each generation, each era
develops its own favorite forms of artistic expression.
Within the lifetime of many who will read these words music
has gone through a number of revolutions in taste; style
and form: impressionism, polytonality, jazz, barbarism,
futurism, neo-classicism, tone-row, etc.

Yet, when we enter the synagogue we are faced by the
implicit command to turn off our musical sophistication and
to attune ourselves to music which, although old, is no
more the essence of Jewishness than that of our own time.

On the other side stand the worshippers who decry
every new tune as an attack on "Tradition." They, too,
may have a point .

Worship is, to a great degree, an act of looking back.
In our search for comfort, peace, inspiration, courage we
turn to the old prayer book filled with ancient words.
Their familiarity, the feeling that these same syllables
have comforted fifty or more generations of Jews who
preceded us serve to enhance their antiquity. When a
worshipper sings the old text in an old, familiar and
comfortable tune it makes him feel good.

(To be continued)

Another New Tune? (II)

There is much to be said for the love of old tunes.

But there are some things we should think about.

The word "Traditional" is as misleading as it is mean-
ingless when applied to synagogue music. Whose "Tradition"?
For what community? In what age? Is the "Tradition" of
the nineteenth century hasidic shtibel the same as the
"Tradition" of synagogues in which the Jews of Tunis wor-
shipped in the thirteenth century? Even within the
confines of the East-European shtetl, was the "Tradition"
of the shneider-shul (tailors ' synagogue) the same as that
of the katzev-shul (butcher's synagogue) which stood not
ten yards away?

In Israel, musicologists have recently isolated and
catalogued over seventy different and authentic musical
prayer traditions which developed over the long centuries
of Jewish dispersion. It would be almost impossible to
catalogue the hundreds of thousands of variations within
these traditions which developed within each community.

The truth is that in Judaism, "Tradition" must include
all traditions, the good, the bad, the authentic and even
the spurious — everything that represents a time, a place
or a style in the Jewish experience. And our duty, both
hazzan and worshipper, is to continue to add to that
Tradition. Some of the old will fall away to be replaced
by the new, but in the process our prayer experience will
be refreshed, replenished and reinvigorated.

Beethoven and the Jews

One may indeed conjecture as to the course which
Jewish music might have taken had Ludwig von Beethoven
become more active in it. It is interesting to note that
in 1825, Beethoven was invited by the Jewish community of
Vienna to compose a cantata in honor of the dedication of a
new Temple. Although he started to work on this opus,
nothing ever came of it and another composer completed the
work.

But it is known that he did become extremely inter-
ested in synagogue music and became familiar with some of
its motifs. You can judge this for yourself, if you will
examine Beethoven's Quartet in C# Minor. opus 131. You
will easily hear a remarkable similarity between the opening
theme of Movement 6 and Kol Nidre. It is even more inter-
esting when we learn that the quartet was composed in 1826,
just one year after Beethoven had received the commission
from the Jewish community of Vienna. Of some interest is
the fact that in 1792, Beethoven fell in love with Rachel
Lowenstein, a Jewess, who rejected Beethoven's offer of
marriage.

The Kol Nidre motif seems to have interested many
other composers, Jew and non-Jew alike. Lalo, who was
Jewish, uses the theme almost note for note in his
Symphony Espagnol . Max Bruch, a Protestant, developed a
whole suite for cello on this theme which he called, quite
appropriately, Kol Nidre. While the Kol Nidre motif is
certainly Jewish in origin and inspiration, Bruch utilized
the melody as a novel theme for a brilliant secular
concerto.

The work displays a fine technique and artistry but
expresses nothing of the atmosphere out of which the
original was born. There is little in it that brings to
mind the feeling of awe, repentance and hope that ties
Kol Nidre to the Jewish soul. It is easy to see that
Max Bruch never recited Kol Nidre himself.

On Eating One's Words

One of the perils of writing is a careful reader. I

had hardly launched my column with what I thought to be a

documented hypothesis on Beethoven only to find my exhila-
ration turned to ashes.

I was pleased to receive a letter from a perceptive
reader questioning my facts. Pleased, because the reader
was none other than the world famous composer, David
Diamond. Mr. Diamond pointed out that many of the so-
called facts upon which I based my column had long since
been exposed as fallacious .

With Mr. Diamond's permission, I want to set the
record straight. Two items in my column caught Mr. Diamond's
attention: the invitation to Beethoven to write an ora-
torio marking the dedication of a Vienna temple in 1825 and
the rumor that Beethoven had once asked for the hand of
Rachel Lowenstein in marriage, to be turned down by the
lady because he was not Jewish. My information came from
"Jewish Music" a book by one of the early Jewish musicol-
ogists, A. Z. Idelsohn, whose work, it would now appear, is
more deserving of praise for the fact that it was the first
effort in this field than for its accuracy.

Mr. Diamond writes: "As I had suspected, Idelsohn' s
book on "Jewish Music" has for long (particularly his
embroideries in footnotes, etc.) been the bottom steps of
a long ascent to more detailed and proven knowledge. His
remark about the Jewish Community in Vienna and the invita-
tion to Beethoven to compose a cantata is nowhere documented
by him and he gives no verifiable data as to where he got
this. Nettl's book of 1923 is also today considered
inaccurate and his Breslaur quote about the Kol Nidrei
started the whole tendency to attribute Op. 131 's part 6
melody to "a similarity" to Kol Nidrei. Other than
Beethoven's wish to read up on Old Testament stories in
case he should do a SAUL (after hearing Handel's SAUL),
there is no other source that refers to a Jewish community,
a commission, or an interest in Hebraic modes or cantilla-
tion. Musically, in re the Op. 131 slow movement, part 6,
a study of the sketch books for that quartet will show how
he arrived at that theme: his usual way of starting with
three or four motival notes and then, after arduous
metamorphosing of the growing notes as a phrase, establish-
ing them as a thematic relation of his opening fugue
subject .

"Now to Frau Lowenstein! ! As Dr. Warren Fox,
(internationally recognized musicologist) states, he has
never heard this name mentioned in Beethoven bibliography
and indeed never seen it or heard it discussed when articles
or talks have been given about Beethoven's innamorate.
Here again, with all respect to the title. Vienna 's
WAHRHEIT of 1901 was a timely but today wholly discounted
journal of rather assumed than proven data. if the Library
of Congress will not come up with something about Frau
Lowenstein I shall have to keep suspecting her as being a
figment of WAHRHEIT 's editorial fantasy department."

The Jewish Music Research Centre

As Jews, we are grateful for the establishment of the
State of Israel for many reasons. The political, histori-
cal and religious factors are obvious and well known. Many
of us, however, are unaware of the great cultural activity
which goes on in that state and which may prove, in the
long run, to be among the greatest of Israel 's contribu-
tion to modern times.

In the field of Jewish music there is now in Israel
one central institution dedicated to the study of the
history of Jewish music and to its perpetuation. This is
the Jewish Music Research Centre, established a very few
years ago at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. The chief
tasks of the Centre are to collect and study music, docu-
ments and literature relating to the musical traditions of
the Jewish communities from all over the world during their
long history. The Centre also carries on a program of
publication in this field.

It works chiefly along two lines. The ethnomusicalo-
gical section is concerned with the recording on tape of
the early musical traditions of the Jew. With the in-
gathering in Israel of representatives of almost every
ancient and modern Jewish community it is still possible
to find, in a relatively small area, those who remember
the musical traditions of their ancestors. As these last
authentic remnants of those ancient communities pass on it
will no longer be possible to record this material first
hand. Therefore, this section of the work is pursued with
the utmost intensity.

The second line of the Centre's activity concerns
itself with written or historical documentation.

The work of the Centre is supported by an annual
allocation from Israel's Ministry of Education and Culture
and from income from a fund established under the aegis of
the Friends of the Hebrew University in Italy. The Cantors
Assembly is considering establishing a similar fund here in
America.

It might provide food for thought that tiny Israel,
beset with a multitude of problems from within and from
without, can find the time, the place and the funds to
devote to this esoteric scholarly work, while the American
Jewish community, the most affluent and powerful in the
world, continues to leave this and other important
cultural activities in the hands of individual, scattered
scholars, many working in ignorance of what the other is
doing.

What Happens To My Money?

From time to time, friends in the community, partic-
ularly those concerned with the continuity of synagogue
music in this country, have made contributions to the
Scholarship and Publications funds of the Cantors Assembly.
Their funds are matched by the hazzanim of the Assembly in
the form of an annual assessment on each member. since
synagogue music is the cultural treasure of the entire
Jewish people it is fitting that hazzan and worshipper
should express their concern in such positive and concrete
terms.

This is in the nature of an informal report on what
the Cantors Assembly does with these funds.

Each year, some ten to twelve thousand dollars are
given in scholarship aid to the students preparing for the
cantorate at the Cantors Institute of the Jewish Theolog-
ical Seminary of America. In addition, an annual grant of
two thousand dollars is made to the Jewish Music Research
Centre at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem. This year,
because there are special additional needs, the budget
projects scholarship gifts and grants of over twenty-six
thousand dollars .

Only three months ago, the last of a half dozen
commercial publishers of Jewish music went out of business.
If Jewish music is to continue to be a vital and relevant
cultural force in our lives the publication of new music
and the republication of out-of-print classics must be
continued. In its short, thirty year history, the Cantors
Assembly has published forty-seven volumes of new and old
synagogue music, almost half of them commissioned from the
leading synagogue composers of our day. During the coming
year, we are committed to the publication of three new
works: one for use by Junior Congregations, another
containing 45 new, yet traditional settings of the high
holy day liturgy for Hazzan and Choir, and a third, which
will be a collection of songs, zemirot, hasidic nigunim,
Israeli tunes, etc., for use by young and old on all
occasions . These three volumes will represent an outlay
of twenty-thousand dollars.

Last month we completed arrangements to purchase and
to present to the Library of the Cantors Institute, one of
the outstanding private libraries of Jewish music in
America. The collection includes not only hundreds of
published works, but countless manuscripts, articles,

books, journals, documents and memorabelia relating to the
history of Jewish music and the cantorate. It Will
constitute a rich resource for cantorial students and
scholars. The cost: eight thousand five hundred dollars.

i am grateful, therefore, for the support of the many
friends of synagogue music in our community. I hope they
will agree that their money and ours has been well spent .
The challenge to assure the survival of synagogue music
and the desperate need that it flourish and grow continue.

Prayer: The Lost Art

Our time is hardly one of spiritual uplift .

It should not come as a surprise that many find it
difficult to pray. The fires of doubt and cynicism have
been too well fed this last half century.

And yet, Jews continue to come to the synagogue.
Seemingly undisturbed by the contradictions in our personal
lives, in spite of the state of the human situation, they
come in greater numbers than ever before. Not only do they
come, but they work, they gather money and they build
magnificent, even opulent synagogues.

And, yet, the synagogues remain strangely silent. Can
it be that in our thirst for decorum we have gone too far?
Possibly, but not likely. It is not the absence of conver-
sation that disturbs us. Anyone who ever sat with his
father or grandfather in a shul knows that something else
is missing. It was a sound which you could almost feel
between your teeth; the sound of prayer, warm, exciting,
sanctifying. It hummed and droned and throbbed filling
every corner of the synagogue and overflowed to the outside.

Our fathers and grandfathers had a nigun which they
hummed as they walked to the synagogue; a nigun for washing
the hands. There was a nusah with which they unpacked the
long tallis, unfurled it with practiced grace and wrapped
it around them. And there was melody — quiet, sad, intro-
spective, kedushah-evoking melody with which they prayed as
they prepared for prayer with prayer.

Today, the congregation sits, eyes fixed, eyes shallow,
focused on things far away from what is to come. They wait
for the rabbi to tell them that it is time to pray.

Finally, it is time. The rabbi, the hazzan and the
choir perform their solos, duets, trios and ensembles. But
the hum of congregational prayer, the surge and the breath
of prayer are frozen as if in a far away wasteland.

And the prayer, the prayer we so desperately need,
lies buried deep in the untouched recesses of the heart.

Praver: The Lost Art, II

Rabbis, hazzanim and concerned laymen have not been
of the demise of the art of praying. A great
number of cures have been suggested and tried. Most of
them have failed; not for lack of sincerity or determina-
tion, but for lack of insight into the real source of the
trouble.

If people do not, or cannot pray, the logic went, then
there must be something wrong with the service. Therefore,
let us change the service:

Have it start later, finish earlier. Make it shorter,
make it longer. Put in an organ, take out the organ. More
English, less Hebrew. More Hebrew, less English. Better
refreshments, no refreshments . Coffee hour, Kiddush. Oneg
Shabbat and even collation. Shorter sermon, longer sermon.
More announcements, less announcements, annual Torah cycle,
tri-ennial Torah cycle.

Everything has been tried with the exception, perhaps,
of trading stamps. Along with the experimentation with the
service attempts were made to bring the prayer book up to
date, to make it a more useful tool in prayer.

The work on the prayer book was of a more thoughtful
and scholarly nature.

It was argued, with some justification, that modern
theological thought demanded a new translation in order to
bring the prayer book closer to contemporary language and
outlook. Such translations, the argument continued, would
also better serve the needs of this generation of worshippers;
particularly those whose command of Hebrew was limited or
non-existent .

As a result, a number of new translations appeared
over the last twenty years. In the attempt to bring time-
liness, particularity and finiteness to the meaning of the
ancient texts, the timelessness, the rhythm and the thrust
of the liturgy were lost. Whatever the value of the new
translations, they serve scholarship and liturgical re-
search more than they do the exercise of prayer. Each new
translation gives rise to more criticism as the experts
haggle over shades of meaning, nuances, poetic license, etc.
Thewould-be-worshipper finds only the new and strange
language which is still different from the language in
which the traditional Jewish service is conducted.

Prayer: The Lost Art (III)

The root of the problem of the lost art of prayer is
to be found in the illiteracy and alienation of the would-
be-worshipper. Attempts to find a quick and easy solution
can not help but fail since they focus on changing the
tools of the worshipper instead of changing the worshipper
himself.

Admittedly, the needs of the moment are urgent and
the short term nostrums beckon enticingly. But they cannot
succeed. And each failure brings even more frustration and
disappointment to the Jew, driving him further away from
the only path which will bring success; study and prepara-
tion.

It is time we faced the problem honestly. Let us turn
our attention to the Jew. No one in his right mind would
hope to enjoy golf or bridge or skiing, or to pursue a
profession or business without the proper preparation,
motivation, education and equipment.

And even these are not enough. There must also be
the inspiration gleaned from observing a skilled practi-
tioner pursue his art or profession.

For example, how do the concert hall, the ball park,
the theatre treat patrons? This is not to suggest that
prayer can be assigned to the category of entertainment.
But there is something which can be learned from these
forms .

Each of these institutions exists only because of the
loyalty of its devotees, its fans. It is in the best
interest of the concert hall, the ball park, the theatre,
to make its product as accessible, as understandable as
possible. Yet no one would suggest that concert artists,
or an orchestra slow down the tempo of a composition so
that the novices can fpllow the score, or so that a patron,
hearing a Beethoven symphony for the first time, should
fully grasp all of the nuances and meaning of the work.
Nor does the theatre expose its back stage or its lighting
equipment to the view of the audience so that a new patron
may better understand the play. The professional ball team
does not simplify the rules of the game in order that the
man who attends once a year will get something out of it.

1-3

On the contrary, the goal for these institutions is
to present the best, the most authentic performance no
matter what difficulty this may present to the uninitiated.
In the normal course of events a man who is really
interested in music or the theatre or baseball will read
a book, take lessons, attend enough concerts or ball games
so that he begins to understand what is going on. After
that he can participate at a level which brings him growing
satisfaction and pleasure.

A Jew cannot come to the service spiritually naked,
intellectually bankrupt and liturgically unskilled and
expect "to get something out of it." Prayer cannot be
achieved by merely being in a synagogue. It takes wanting,
it takes preparation, it takes knowing.

We cannot hope to revitalize prayer by catering to
the lowest level, or by changing the rules or the liturgy
to accommodate the inept. We serve these better only by
conducting the most authentic, the most sincere, the most
genuine service which can be mustered. Such a service is
not necessarily the most "beautiful" which can be devised
unless we define beauty as that which is natural and
authentic, uncontrived and uncluttered.

The test for the effectiveness of a service is the
reaction of the experienced worshipper, the knowledgeable
one. How does it affect him? Let the novice sit among
davening Jews and sooner or later the experiences of
others will guide and infect him.

^

Prayer: The Lost Art (Iv)

Prayer is achieved more by what we feel than by what
we know. During the very brief moments when we are truly
moved we are unaware of the literal meaning of the indi-
vidual words of the text. Rather we are affected by a
tune, by the ancient words, by the atmosphere, by the
antiquity of the act.

This is not to imply that ignorance of the meaning of
the text is a desirable factor in prayer. On the contrary,
one should know what he is praying for. But this he should
learn through study. At the moment when a prayer is
affective, the literal, line-for-line translation is not
only unnecessary but may even be a psychological hindrance.

We have all seen Jews who know how to pray, who pray
three times a day. We even may have criticized them for
the speed with which they pray. It is not possible, we
think, for such a man, rushing through the Amidah, to be
able to concentrate on the full meaning of the text. But
he does know — from long prayer experience, from study —
that the paragraph which begins with Refaenu is a prayer
for good health; that Barech alenu. is a petition for sub-
tenance and that S'lach lanu is a prayer for forgiveness.

We have all been present at a funeral at which a
mourner is not able to recite the Kaddish. For such
mourners the undertaker provides a pamphlet with the
Kaddish in Hebrew, in an English translation, and in trans-
literated form as well.

When the times comes for the mourner to recite the
Kaddish which does he choose? The English translation
which he can read easily and understand? Or does he,
embarrasing as it may be, choose instead to stumble
through the transliteration of "Yisgadal veyiskadash shmay
raboh. ..."

Even a person of high intellectual achievement prefers
to struggle with the Hebrew rather than to read,
"Magnified and sanctified. ..." why?

Because, somehow, deep within him, the old unintelli-
gible but mystically inviting words evoke something which
the English, with all of its intelligibility, does not.

The novice can best be taught during the service by
example. If he is sincere he will derive benefit just

*-$

from being in the midst of other worshippers and identify-
ing with them. When this is no longer sufficient he
should find an opportunity for study outside of the
service. If the would-be worshipper does not care enough
to improve himself we should be courageous enough to with-
stand the temptation to lower standards in order to
accommodate him .

XL

Ten Commandments for
Congregational Singing

Thou Shalt Sing!

Thou Shalt Sing with all thy heart, with all thy
soul, and with all thy might.

Thou Shalt Sing fearlessly, ignoring the possible
wondering glances of your neighbors. They would
like to sing with you if they had the nerve and
they will sing with you, if you continue.

Thou Shalt Sing Joyfully, as it is written by the
prophet Isaiah, "Sing Heaven, be joyful, earth,
and break forth into singing, mountains . "

Thou Shalt Sing Reverently, for music is prayer.

Thou Shalt Not be Afriad to Sing, for though an
individual may pray in prose or even in wordless
silence, a congregation must sing.

Thou Shalt Not Resist new melodies, for it is not
written in the Book of Psalms: "0 sing unto the
Lord a new song"?

Thou Shalt Not Mumble the melody, but shalt sing
it out loud, even if with occasional mistakes.

Thou Shalt Not Hesitate to sing together with the
trained voices of the Choir. They want you to
join with them.

Thou Shalt Not Forget the words of the Psalmist:
"I will sing unto the Lord as long as I live. "

Hazzan Robert Zalkin
Indianapolis, Ind.

The Next Twenty Five

Life is a pendulum swinging from excess to excess. In
order to keep one's balance one must be aware of where the
pendulum is at any one particular moment.

On May 16th, I had the special pleasure and privilege
of enjoying an excess of praise. I think it would be
appropriate now to remind admirers, friends and myself
that, seen from the perspective of that Olympian height,
there are yet many things left to be done.

We have not yet succeeded in understanding the part
which music can and must play in our lives, if we are to
judge from funds allocated to the cause of music. Neither
our congregation, nor the Rochester Jewish community, nor
even the general Rochester community keeps faith, in
dollars, with what it proclaims in words. Despite the fact
that music is an integral part of Jewish life, accompanying
us in happy or sad cadences from the moment of our birth to
the moment of our death, we still do not boast a music
education program in our Religious School worthy of that
fact. It should also make one stop and think that out of
a budget of almost $400, 000 the congregation plans to spend
next year less than $6,000 on music.

The Jewish community often calls on me to provide a
musical adornment to some important community occasion.
They ask, in vain, for the services of a chorus or an
orchestra or some other musical group. Yet, year after
year, we fail to plan for or to provide the funds for such
organizations to exist in our community.

The Rochester community talks much about its love of
music; yet the Eastman Theatre is very rarely filled and
the administrators of the Rochester Philharmonic still
have to scrounge for funds to keep that fine orchestra
alive.

This may seem like a shabby way to repay friends and
admirers who went out of their way to be nice to me but I
think that one repays kindness best with honesty. We have,
indeed, much to be proud of in terms of musical achieve-
ment in Rochester, but we have not achieved nearly enough
to make us complacent.

It looks like another rough twenty-five years ahead.

On Hazzanut*

(*From an address by Dr. Eric Werner, Professor
Emeritus of Jewish Music at the Jewish Institute of
Religion's School of Sacred Music before a convention of
the Cantors Assembly.)

"Let us consider the important question, is hazzanut
art or folklore. Obviously, neither. For in musical art
one version is preferred by the composer to the exclusion
of all others. It is folklore? Obviously not. For real
folklore is limited to a relatively small region and does
not migrate over oceans and continents. Moreover, true
folklore is restricted to one language. If hazzanut is
neither true folklore nor art music, what is it? We might
regard it as a stylized and acculturated tradition. What
does "acculturated" mean? It means, generally, the adjust-
ment of a less developed civilization to traits and
concepts of a higher civilization.

"One more element has to be considered before we can
survey the true nature of hazzanut: the legal status of
the Jewish community. Here in the United States the Jewish
community has no legal status whatever, due to the separa-
tion of church and state in the constitution. Only the
individual congregation enjoys a strictly private legal
status. Yet the legal form of the kehillah could have
survived; the consistory, the consistoire still exist in
Europe, Africa, Australia and in part of South America.

"A kehilla means considerable underpinning for both
the rabbi and the hazzan. Where a good musical training
and an organized kehilla come together there we find, first,
acculturation, then a close link with the art of music of
the period. The examples of Paris, Vienna, Berlin, and
Frankfort during the 19th century come to mind.

"Where there is little musical training and no kehilla
the music of the synagogue remains completely arid or
pertrified. Passive assimilation and musical decay set in
and neither tradition nor art music can unfold. This is
the case of Oriental Jewry and, alas, also that of Israel.
There prevails a false tradition which is gradually
fossilizing. Excepted from this petrification are only a
few elements of Oriental Jewry which have saved traces of
their old folklore, among the Yemenites, the Iraqis,
Kurdistanis, etc. Where there is high musical training
but no kehilla — only single congregations as is the case
here in America — we encounter occasional spurts and even

21

concerted attempts in the right direction. But we are not
protected by the rabbis; our cultural interests are not
championed by our educators; and in most cases the
consequence is that the public remains indifferent, or at
best, lukewarm.

"Where there was little music training but a lot of
tradition and a closely knit kehilla, as was the case in
Eastern Europe, we find active assilimation, acculturation,
up to the point where musical education becomes respectable.
From then on the links with art music increase. That was
the situation in the great cetners of Russia during the
19th century. It led to the development of stylized
tradition in the cases of Gerovitch, Novakovsky,
Minkowsky, etc. "

What is our future?

The Cantors Assembly at 25

This year the Cantors Assembly will mark its 25th
anniversary. It is a meaningful milestone in terms of the
life of an organization but even more meaningful in terms
of what actually has been accomplished.

The state of hazzanut before 1947, when the Assembly
was founded, was in the nature of a personality cult, or of
a private art. In those days everyone knew the ten, twelve
or fifteen star hazzanim who went from synagogue to
synagogue thrilling congregations with their beautiful
interpretations of the liturgy. Each was an unique artist,
with his own style and voice characteristics but there was
no feeling of professionalism among these men . Very few
of them shared their art with a colleague and very few of
them were concerned with the broader needs of congrega-
tions beyond the hours devoted to Sabbath or holiday
worship, or with the perpetuation of hazzanut.

One of the principle reasons for which the Cantors
Assembly was founded was to make of this personal art a
profession of sacred service. The founders of the Assembly
believed that while there was a continuing need for the
liturgy to be interpreted beautifully and meaningfully
there were broader needs in each congregation for a
personality who was trained in the liturgy but who would
not be satisfied with merely chanting it; one who would
be concerned with disseminating it and enriching it and
making it part of our people's cultural heritage.

Over these 25 years we have striven mightily to attain
this goal. There no longer exists the once-a-month-hazzan
or the artistic interpreter who can survive on a synagogue
circuit. Each hazzan of the Assembly is today totally
involved with and concerned for the broad needs of his own
congregation, in teaching, counselling and helping to
enhance Jewish life wherever possible.

Over these 25 years we have helped to establish the
clergy status of the hazzan in several land-mark cases in
the courts of our country. We have raised standards for
the profession and standards of musical taste in our con-
gregations. We have carried on a program of continuing
in-service education and a program of publication which
has produced some 25 volumes of synagogue music.

Our proudest achievement is the impetus we gave to
the establishment of a school for the training of hazzanim

and in the continuing support the Assembly provides for its
survival. Almost from the very beginning of our existence
we began to raise the funds and to convince people that a
school for hazzanim was the only way in which we could
guarantee the continuity of synagogue music in America.

The Cantors Institute was born as a result of our
efforts. Over the eighteen years since, over $300,000 has
been raised by hazzanim in communities across the land.
25 graduates are already full-fledged members of the
Cantors Assembly. The Institute continues to grow in
accomplishment and in quality.

This celebration is as much the celebration of the
American Jewish community as it is ours, for, in the long
run, the Cantors Assembly would be meaningless if it could
not have the understanding, cooperation and help of Jews
in congregations all over the country.

Let me congratulate you as I know you will want to
congratulate the Cantors Assembly. A contribution towards
the sacred work of the Assembly on the occasion of this
anniversary would be most gratefully received.

K

The Dilemma

Of all the arts, says Professor Abraham Heschel,
hazzanut most reveals the soul of the artist. All creative
artists leave a piece of themselves in their work, but it
is not always exposed. The voice, sincerely raised in
prayer, is always an evocation of what is in the heart and
mind of the hazzan, bared and open for all to sense.

Beset by the knowledge of his own inadequacies, the
hazzan must, nevertheless, be the spokesman, the sheliah
tzibbur, of those whom he would lead in prayer. Because
only one broken heart can fully understand another and only
one who has himself been defeated by life's problems can
fully understand the frustration of another loser, it might
seem that the best hazzan is one who best expresses the
frustrations and the disappointments of his congregants
because he himself has experienced them. Yet, the hazzan
who is himself defeated by life is, in the end, a poor
sheliah tzibbur. For the act of prayer is an act of faith,
an expression of the possibility of hope. Prayer for the
sake of the mechanical repetition of fixed texts is mean-
ingless and purposeless.

What is required is that the sheliah tzibbur should
know intimately the doubts and the pain which beset his
people and yet, at the same time, be able to articulate the
hope and the promise that are the birthright of every human
being. It is for this purpose that the hazzan enlists the
art of music.

And this is the great dilemma: How, at the same time,
to be sincere, understanding, honest and open and, yet,
conscious of the strict disciplines of the musical art.
Hazzanut is a difficult synthesis of art and faith.

One might think that the hazzan should come to the
amud without prior preparation and allow his own thoughts
and feelings about the liturgy at that particular time to
express themselves as they will. Isn't there something
inherently premeditated, and therefore dishonest about
preparing an emotional response in advance?

We might agree except for one thing.

The hazzan 's sacred duty is to be more concerned with
the needs of those he leads in prayer than with his own
needs. For their sake he cannot come unprepared, hoping

that in the excitement of the moment he will create a
prayer-song which will evoke the desire to pray in others.
Before he can lead in prayer, he must lead to prayer. Like
a teacher, who must skillfully map out his classroom
procedure in advance — no matter how thorough his know-
ledge of the subject — so the hazzan must give careful
attention beforehand to what he will sing and how he will
sing it. Sincerity and piety are fundamental and important
but vocal line, artistic interpretation of the nusah and
the text are vital if he is to gain the attention of the
worshipper and involve him in the act of prayer.

that is the

As We Turn A Corner

The last forty years have seen a welcome revival of
interest in Jewish music and in synagogue music in partic-
ular. Aside from the historic, sociological and economic
reasons, and in purely musical terms, the great figure of
Ernest Bloch and the unabashed Jewishness of his music
constitute the chief inspiration of this revival. Following
Bloch' s example a flood of talented composers turned their
attention to the liturgy and to other sacred texts and
sought, through these efforts, identification as Jewish
composers, or better, as composers of Jewish music.

The decades that followed gave us the creativity of
men like Jacob Weinberg, Lazare Saminsky, Joseph Achron,
Zavel Zilberts, Max Helfman, A. W. Binder, Isadore Freed,
Sholom Secunda, Lazar Weiner, Herbert Fromm, Samuel Adler,
Charles Davidson and others. The period was marked by the
founding and growth of two national cantorial bodies,
Cantors Assembly (Conservative-400 members) and the
American Conference of Cantors (Reform-150 members); the
establishment of two schools for the training of cantors,
synagogue musicians and composers; the National Jewish
Music Council to highlight the creation and celebration of
Jewish music through annual festivals, publications and
competitions .

There have developed also, a number of additional
formal and information national and local societies and
groups whose primary purpose is to highlight Jewish music
through performance and discussion. During the last two
decades at least six major publishers of Jewish music were
doing a thriving business in this field.

As we prepare to move into a new decade the Cantors
Assembly asked me to conduct a survey on the progress of
this revival. How goes it with Jewish music? Are we
reaping any fruits? Has the revival brought us to a high
plateau, or a rising scale of interest or has it, contrary
to what is happening everywhere else, experienced a
deflation?

I will share with you, in the next issue of the
Bulletin, the results of my survey. I confess that less
than 15 of my colleagues responded; some 300 were polled.
For this reason alone my statistics may be open to question.
But I doubt that they can be entirely disregarded. And I
wonder, too, whether the meager response is not, in itself,
a statistic of the highest creditability.

Some Sobering Statistics

As promised, the results of a recent survey on the
state of Jewish music today. The statistics are quoted at
random, but taken together they form a pattern.

In congregations where the late Friday evening service
is the major service of the week, on the average, less than
a half hour of that service is devoted to music. (Most
services last one hour and a half) . The half hour of music
is divided in varying proportions among hazzan choir and
congregation .

In the great majority of congregations the professional
choir and the professional quality of singing are things of
the past. A partial or wholly volunteer choir now partic-
ipate in the service.

While the average Sabbath morning service lasts from
two to two and one-half hours, the largest regular attend-
ance is attained only for the last hour of the service of
which no more than 30 minutes is given over to music.

Most Jews still come to the synagogue on the high
holidays. Less than 30% of the average four-hour service
is allocated to hazzanic, choral or congregational music.

The average congregation last year (1968) spent a
maximum of seventy dollars on the purchase of synagogue
music.

To my knowledge, not one of the three cantorial
schools has graduated a single, qualified teacher of
Jewish music. I am not now speaking of cantorial graduates
who can and do teach Jewish music.

The Junior Congregation is where the foundation must
be laid for an understanding and appreciation of synagogue
music. Most of those canvassed are led by teachers of
Hebrew, or by lay volunteers who have little musical know-
ledge, training or talent.

The average student who attends a religious school is
offered a maximum of twenty minutes of instruction in
Jewish music per week, usually led by a teacher with no
special training in Jewish music. The curriculum offered
in most cases amounts to a few songs from Israel and a
number of holiday songs .

There does not exist today a single text book of
Jewish music for use in the religious school. (Most
students are taught from illegally copied song-sheets, or
from home-made ones, run off on the congregation's mimeo-
graph machine . )

Congregations whose annual school budgets varied last
year from $25, 000 to $200, 000 all managed to spend exactly
the same amount ($50) on music and music materials for
their schools.

There remains today in this country only one
publisher specializing in Jewish music. Fifteen years ago
there were more than a half dozen.

During the '40's and '50's a host of internationally
known singers of Jewish art and folk music appeared
regularly before the American Jewish public. Today, one
man remains in the field and it is no secret that he must
seek a high-holiday hazzanic position in order to make a

As much as 80% of the music heard at services in the
American synagogue today was composed before 1900. In
some, more progressive congregations, as much as 50% of
the music was composed before 1940. In no case is more
than 20% of the repertoire composed of music created after
1940.

Some comments on these statistics next week.

Speculating on Statistics

One does not need to be a prophet to fortell, from the
limited statistics on Jewish music reported here last week,
the passing of the professional synagogue choir. The
reasons for this phenomenon are many: they have as much to
do with our time as with specifically Jewish or even
musical factors. There is abroad in the world a universal
spirit of ennui, of dissatisfaction and disenchantment with
all kinds of forms, rituals and institutions which
symbolize an organized establishment.

In the theater, the proscenium gave way to the thrust
stage in the early days of the last decade. it was soon
followed by the appearance in the audience of actors and
action. The carefully wrought play, every detail, nuance
and climax planned by the craftsman playwright is now out
of fashion. It has been replaced by the Theater of the
Absurd and by improvised "happenings . " First costumes and
then clothing have been discarded in the attempt to achieve
"honesty, " "naturalness, " "spontaniety" and "TRUTH. " The
theater today gives us much to ponder but I would venture
the thought that there is more spontaniety, honesty,
naturalness and truth in a few lines by Shakespeare or
Shaw or even, Neil Simon, than in entire plays by Ionesco
or Brecht. Certainly, there is more art.

In music a similar revolution is underway. The
symphony orchestra as a living institution seems doomed.
Some of the causes are indeed economic but these are out-
weighed by the sentiment that the symphony orchestra is a
luxury we can do without: a token of opulence and affluence
that we cannot afford in these bitter and tragic days.
Truth and beauty and artistry, some say, are kept from us
by the iron curtain of the formality, the ritual and the
etiquette of the symphony concert. Truth and beauty and
artistry are more real, more accessible in Alice's
Restaurant than in the Alice Tulley Hall of Lincoln Center,
they would have us believe. Two concert artists have even
tried to pierce the barricade between audience and performer
by appearing in sweatshirt and slacks instead of the
traditional white tie and tails. Interesting, but not one
critic reported that Chopin or Beethoven profited from the
innovation .

Now, what has all of this to do with the synagogue

So, What About the Choir?

A synagogue choir of professional caliber makes a
number of contributions to the service. The first of these
is variety. The voice of the hazzan, no matter how beauti-
ful its quality or artistic its use, can become monotonous,
or at least, lose its impact when it is heard alone, un-
accompanied over the course of a major service. The choir,
with its rich variety of vocal and harmonic colors refreshes
the ear. In the process it helps psychologically to renew
interest in the liturgy, gives an emotional lift to the
congregation, and when the hazzan resumes, everyone benefits
anew from the contrast .

But the choir is an asset not only because of the sound
of its song, its tone and texture, but because of the music
itself. So many of the melodies which the congregation
sings and loves and considers as its very own were origi-
nally choral compositions which caught the imagination and
the hearts of Jews over the years and were literally
wrested from the choir and firmly established as "congrega-
tional melodies. "

In our own service, En Kamocha by Solomon Sulzer, Av
Harachamin by Dunajewsky, Vayehi Binsoa and Hodo Al Eretz
by Lewandowski, to name only a very few, were originally
choral pieces.

Not all choral pieces have been treated so. The great
majority of them remain in the realm of the choir, too
complex to be sung by the congregation, yet moving and
uplifting to listen to.

This is not unique to the synagogue. What opera lover
cannot whistle or hum or sing the Quartet from Rigoletto?
Yet he will sit transfixed through the entire opera even
though he can only reproduce a small fraction of it by
himself. Obviously there is benefit and even a sense of
achievement and communication which can be derived just
from listening.

Some people feel that the synagogue choir somehow
stands between them and Cod. It may be that they are right,
but if they are it will be an innovation that goes contrary
to much of musical and Jewish history.

All classical music from the Baroque of the 16th
century through the atonality of our own time was created
to be listened to. If, here and there, a listener can hum

a phrase or even a section of a symphony or an aria, or a
Schubert song, it is all to the good. But a music lover
would not want to wipe out all music that he could not sing
himself. The very art of listening to music is a spiritual
experience. Heschel argues that the spiritual experience
in the concert hall is of a lesser order than that which
can be felt in the midst of a sincerely worshipping congre-
gation. How much more elevating, then, can be the act of
listening to liturgical music in the synagogue?

Finally, the choir adds richness and lustre to the
service in a manner which cannot be duplicated by the
unison voice. Its existence is a prod to composers to
create new compositions, new ways of praying to God. It,
alone, can create the climaxes which are so important to a
meaningful service. These, in turn, enhance the voice of
the hazzan, or the mighty unison song of the congregation,
and most important, lend inspiration, courage and support
to the lonely worshiper.

A Special Sabbath

Ordinarily this space is reserved for some of my
thoughts on the music of the synagogue. Today, I would
like to share with you the fruits of the labor of a number
of young people who prepared two source books for the
Shabbaton held in our congregation early in April. I read
the material and was filled with a true sense of joy: the
words rang with a special kind of music to me. Following
are two quotations from the source book on the Shabbat
prepared by Sharon Kowal. It should prove to be of comfort
to those who, from time to time, have doubts about the
future of Jewish life in America.

"Are you ready for Shabbat?"

"M'nuchah is no casual word in the Bible. It is
usually translated as rest, but it is also the Biblical
term for peace, harmony, calm, and the good life. It is
much more than physical rest. It is the peace that comes
from being at peace with God. It is the harmony that comes
when, one's work is blessed.

"At the end of the first psalm of Kabbalat Shabbat,
Psalm 95 (L'chu N'ranena) we are told that the generation
of the wilderness did not earn M'nuchah. They angered God
and wrought evil, and there is a law in the spiritual life
that he who causes strife does not earn M'nuchah,

"He who does not trust God but must constantly prove
his own power may achieve many things. He may have
pleasure and power, wealth, honor, and strength. But he
cannot have M'nuchah.

"Now we understand why Psalm 95 is placed at the
beginning of the Kabbalat Shabbat service.

"The Sabbath is the end product of the six days of the
week. One cannot be cruel and callous six days a week and
still hallow the Sabbath. We cannot be bound up in greed
and hostility six days a week and enjoy inner peace on the
seventh.

"What are we? What have we done with the week that
has gone by? Are we ready to rest?

"The Sabbath is not something automatic that comes
each week at a set time. M'nuchah is something that must
be earned anew each week.

"Are you ready for this Sabbath?"

"What is prayer?"

"Prayer is an experience. Prayer is a way of speaking
in a world where no one can hear.

"We pray three times a day. We pray when we are at
peace. We pray when we are filled with love and also when
we are filled with hate.

"Where is prayer?

"Prayer is in the synagogue. Prayer is in the heart.
Prayer is anywhere we can sense God.

"For what do we pray?

"We pray for our desires. We pray for self-satisfac-
tion. We pray for the good of others. We pray for inner
peace .

"To whom do we pray?

"Prayer is to God Prayer is to the trees and grass.
Prayer is to ourselves and for ourselves.

"Why do we pray?

"We pray because we were commanded to do so. We pray
because our needs in life are many. We pray because there
is something in us, whether it be a love, a hate, a joy, or
a sorrow, which is bursting and can no longer be contained.

"Who must pray?

"Prayer is for all men. Prayer is for the faithless
man whose wounds cause him pain . Prayer is for the grieving
and the exulting alike. Prayer is for everyone who has ever
laughed or cried.

"How do we pray?

"We pray with all our hearts and souls. We pray in
the same way we enjoy nature's beauty. We pray with that
within us which asks, "How do we pray?"

I hope that you will feel as I do that these words
constitute a special kind of music. (To be continued)

Ml.

Shabbaton Continued

The theme of the Shabbaton was Jewish Mysticism and a
source book on various aspects on that subject was prepared.
This is a subject which is very little known or understood
by most of us. The source book was, therefore, truly a
revelation. It dealt with such exotic things as "The Three
Aspects of the Soul, " "The Spirits of the Dead, " "The
Potency of the Name of Man, " "The Name of God, " "Incanta-
tions, " "Sympathetic Magic, " etc. I think that you will be
interested in the introduction which was prepared by Miriam
Gross, Howard Crane, Debby Roxin, David Wallach.

"It is difficult for most of us to grasp the concept
of Black Magic and Mysticism in the Jewish Faith. Though
it may not be an official part of the religion and is not
and was not recognized by rabbinical authorities, super-
stition played an important part in Judaism during the
Middle Ages. it is amazing to look back to the ideas con-
sidered strange by us today that were once as well accepted
as Nixon by the silent majority. it is also of interest to
note the mysticism of Medieval Germany that lingers in our
contemporary society is no longer associated with Black
Magic. Nevertheless, this is where the roots of many of
our traditions lie.

"How did the Jewish people ever get involved with such
"taboo" practices? Though the Jews were isolated in

ghettos, they were not quite as isolated as we have been

led to believe. The ideas and practices of the outside
(Christian) world had no trouble filtering through. These

practices were greatly modified and adapted to fit the mold

of Judaism.

"Even if growing superstition seemed to be the rage of
the common people, the Rabbinate frowned upon mystical
undertakings. They undertook to stamp out the line of
practice, but were unsuccessful. Jewish magic and super-
stition had become the religion of the common folk, starting
around the eleventh century, and continuing until the six-
teenth. Because of the fact that the "folk religion" was
an unrecognized and then unofficial Judaism, it is rarely
studied or acknowledged today. "

The Sounds of the Seder

Passover is an especially fine time for singing. It's
spring, it's a holiday and new hope is on the horizon. In
the synagogue, if you listen attentively you can hear the
uniquely original festival modes which clothe the old
prayers in new colors. There is the Hallel with its
poignant bitter-sweet minor mode: the mystical and beauti-
ful prayer for "Tal, " in which we beseech the Almighty to
be gracious to the land of Israel and to bless it with dew
during the coming dry season. And there is the original
and distinctive pattern for the chanting of the brakhot of
the Amidah with the final note left hanging in the air,
unfinished and yet somehow complete.

But the best singing is heard at the Seder. There
are some who claim to be tone-deaf but most of these are
really only ear-lazy. The melodies of the Seder are so
simple, so much the creativity of the whole Jewish people,
so inherently and instinctively Jewish that it is hard to
believe that one could sit at a Seder and not join in,

The Four Questions are traditionally sung to the same
nigun which students of the Talmud have been using in
their study for centuries.

Dayenu, with its recurrent joyous refrain, is hard to
resist, They hymns which are collected at the end of the
Haggadah and sung at the pleasure of those sitting around
the table have come to us from Jewish communities all over
the world — from Germany, Yemen, from Eastern Europe and
even from Spain.

Passover is a time for singing. It is a time of

freedom. One of the freedoms I wish for you is freedom

from the inhibitions which may have kept you from joining
in the singing!

'AH

Song Power

The melody of Kol Nidre became, over the ages, the
best known and most moving of all the melodies of the
Ashkenazic synagogue. Somehow it has the power to reach
and to move even the most disinterested peripheral Jew.
If one needed additional testimony that words alone, no
matter how elegant, are not enough for a Jew at prayer, he
need only step into a synagogue on Kol Nidre eve, the
holiest night of the year.

Empty and deserted much of the rest of the year it is
now packed to overflowing. Impending judgment hangs sus-
pended, mist-like, in the air. All wait for Kol Nidre.
And then the Ark is opened, the holy Scrolls brought forth
and the Hazzan begins to chant Kol Nidre.

The notes shine like stars. In them you hear the
heartbreak and the misery of the Jewish people; the pain
and the anguish of the bitter centuries. Your soul quick-
ens and you sway in response as if pulled by some unseen
string. For an instant, the man in front of you is your
grandfather, wrapped in his white kittle, prayerbook moist
with his tears. He, too, is swaying. He to your tempo and
you to his. You blink and it is over. You are back in the
present. Unconsciously you touch the pages of your own
prayerbook and they, too, are moist. With those tears?

You glance at the words of Kol Nidre, enigmas in their
Aramaic. So you look to the facing page, to the transla-
tion, and you are shocked. There is no poetry, no prayer,
no majesty. Merely a dry-as-dust ancient formula; a
blanket, legalistic release from unfulfilled promises.

And then you understand the power of a song.

L'shanah tovah tikateva vitechatemu.

HS

The Sabbath is enhanced by a large treasure of poems
and songs which are sung around the Sabbath table. These
table songs, called "Zemirot, " may be traced back to the
Second Temple.

The Jew is bidden to make the Sabbath a delight. It
is natural that music should be involved in carrying out
this commandment. The zemirot helped the Jew to enjoy the
Sabbath and to shut him off momentarily from the pressures
and persecutions which surrounded him.

The "payyetanim, " composers of sacred poetry, came
into vogue in the Middle Ages. Many of the tunes for their
early poems, being borrowed from the secular and alien
songs of the day, became very popular. Many found their
way into the prayer book and into everyday religious life.
The Sabbath synagogue service is rich in such poetry; L'cha
Dodi, El Adon, Yismach Moshe, Ein Keloheinu, Adon 01am are
but a few examples.

Many piyyutim, bearing the unmistakable influence of
the mystical beauty of the "Kabbalah" and of the Biblical
"Song of Songs" became popular zemirot. Since the early
poets were Sephardim, most of the early zemirot were set to
Sephardic tunes. Centuries later, the zemirot became
especially popular with the hasidim of Eastern Europe, for
their roots go deep into the mysticism of the Kabbalah.
They reset them to their own joyously rhythmic or deeply
meditative melodies.

Certain zemirot became associated with specific Sabbath
meals: the festive meal of welcome on Friday evening, the
relaxed Sabbath noon meal and the melancholy third meal
(Seuda Sh' lishit) which follows the Sabbath nap and carries
with it portents of the secular week about to begin. The
hasidim, eager to extend the Sabbath instituted still
another table session at Havdalah time called "Melaveh
Malkah, " marking the imminent return of the Sabbath Queen
to heaven .

The zemirot tunes are many and varied, reflecting the
communit ies all over the world in which Jews found a haven.

In times past, when Jews lived in small, widely
separated villages and towns, they waited eagerly for
guests from afar: not only for the news they might bring
but also for the opportunity to hear a new synagogue tune
or zemirah, It was one of the few ways, in those simple
times, in which the Jew brought variety and fresh beauty
into the narrow confines of his own life.

A Purim Story In Time For Purim

One of the first things I did when I resumed my duties
last month was to invite a number of young women to parti-
cipate in the Family Megillah Service by reading a portion
of the Megillah. I was in the midst of this process when
Julia Goldberg, of our Temple Library staff stopped by
quite coincidentally, with "something interesting" to show

The "something interesting" was a three column
clipping from the February 22nd, 1964 issue of the
Democrat and Chronicle, topped by a picture of a much
younger Hazzan surrounded by a number of boys and girls
who were preparing to read the Megillah at that year's
Purim service. It brought me up with a start. I had just
not realized that this lovely Beth El tradition was that
old, 18 years to be exact. The coincidence and the number
18 were too good an omen to go unnoticed. One doesn't
sneeze at Hai (18), especially if one has undergone
coronary surgery.

The young people who joined in reading the Megillah
in 1964 were Sara Ruderman, now pursuing a career in voice
and computers in New York: Shelly Michlin, now Shelly
Projansky — married to a Professor of Physics in Ithaca
and the mother of two lovely children; Arnold Rosenberg,
now a successful attorney with the New York Telephone
Company; Michael Shafer, who long ago earned his medical
degree and has been pursuing a number of highly technical
specialities in San Francisco; and Jan Goldberg, Julia ' s
son, who is an electrical engineer in California, married
and the father of one child.

It produced a lovely moment of nostalgia for me and I
thought it was worth sharing with you. Nahas fun kinder
is always welcome.

V

The Songs of Selihot

Just as the Selihot liturgy serves as a prelude to the
High Holy Day season so does the music serve as an overture
to the musical riches of the solemn season about to begin.
The musical mode is a somber one but particularly moving to
Jewish hearts. Technically, it is an amalgam of several
Western minor scales and is known to synagogue musicians as
the Penitential Mode. Its use is not restricted to this
service or to the High Holy Day season. It can also be
heard in more simple form at the daily service and at
certain moments on Sabbaths and festivals.

Just as an overture presents snatches from the music
of the opera about to begin, so the Selihot Service presents
highlights of the most moving sections of the Rosh Hashanah
and Yom Kippur liturgies. The beautiful, majestic and
always inspiring Kaddish of the Days of Awe is heard for the
first time since the preceding Yom Kippur. The piyyutim,
the sacred poetry of the Selihot Service, are particularly
suited to musical ornamentation since they were originally
written to be sung. Many of the payyetanim were, them-
selves, hazzanim. Since these poems are not part of the
"matbeah shel tefillah" (the coin of prayer — those
prayers which are specifically required for each service) ,
the musical modes vary widely, offering a rich collection
of tunes and chants. The moving "Sh'ma Koleinu" prayer is
heard again in its plaintive plea for God's attention, as
is the major congregational confession, an alphabetic
acrostic beginning "Ashamnu, bagadnu, gazalnu. ..."

Strangely enough, this soul-baring confessional is
sung, not in a sad minor, but rather in a brilliant major
mode. When pressed for an explanation one scholar
explained that Jews are so confident of God's mercy and
justice that they confess readily, openly and without fear.

While the Selihot Service is essentially a personal
one the needs of the people Israel are never forgotten and
the service closes with a prayer for the redemption of
Israel, "Shomer Yisrael."

We look forward with you to Saturday evening,
September 26th.

High Holy Day Reprise

A number of members of the Temple Family were kind
enough to comment on the beauty of the music of the high
holiday services. There was special praise for the
innovative use of folk and contemporary material for the
Martyrology section of the Yom Kippur service, both for the
spoken words and the music. Compliments are always pleas-
ant, but what pleased me most is that no one said that they
had "enjoyed" the services, but rather that they had been
touched by them.

For the many who inquired and for others who may be
interested I am pleased to supply titles and sources.

The opening passage read so beautifully by Mrs. Daniel
Chazanoff was from Milton Steinberg's "A Believing Jew."
Rabbi Elkins chose his readings from the pamphlet "Contem-
porary Prayers and Readings, " copies of which are now
available at the Sisterhood Book Shop.

I sang three ghetto songs. The first was "Es Brent, "
by the well known folk poet and composer, Mordecai Gebirtig.
"Fire: Fire: Our shtetl is burning. Don't stand there
with folded hands. If the shtetl is precious to you help
us put out the fire!" The second song was a moving re-
telling of Bialik's poem, "Moishelach un Shloimelach . " In
that poem Bialik rhapsodized over the translucently fragile
Jewish children of the shtetl. He described them for us as
they played on the grass and in the snow. The new tragic
parody which I sang says, "Es shpielen zich mer nit kein
Moishelach, Shloimelach. " "No longer do Jewish children
play on the grass and in the snow. Only the Polish forests
remember and mourn for them. " The words are by Jacob
Papirnikoff, the music by Israel Alter.

I transcribed the third song, "Modeh Ani" as it was
sung for me by a great Jewish artist who was herself a
survivor of the death camps, Sara Gorby. She gave me
neither the name of the poet or of the composer. "Modeh
Ani" is the first prayer which Jews recite upon arising in
the morning. Perhaps your mother helped you to recite it
when you were a child as did mine. It is a simple affirma-
tion of faith and an expression of thanksgiving to the
Almighty for having seen us safely through the night. In
the song, a survivor tries desperately once again to
recite "Modeh Ani" but finds that she no longer remembers
the prayer. She begs God to help her to remember, to come
out to meet her. She wants very much to find her way to

t n

Him, but she just does not know the way. She warns that
in her shattered state she could easily be misled by the
foe still lying in wait.

The closing selection was Lazar Weiner's "Kaddish. "
While the Hazzan chants the ancient words, the choir inter-
jects searing reminders of the uncounted atrocities which
the Jewish people has endured over the centuries. During
the last days of Elul 5732, Munich was added to that list.
I arranged the text from my own vivid impression of the
closing lines of Andre Schwartz-Bart 's "The Last of the
Just . "

It is good to know that the Martyrology was made
meaningful for so many. It is even more satisfying that
our efforts touched and moved Jewish hearts to perform the
sacred mitzvah of remembering.

9>

Songs and Knedlach

If there was ever any doubt about the wide variety of
tunes which exist for any given Jewish liturgical text,
that doubt must be dispelled by a quick check among friends
on how they sing the songs of the Haggadah. Such a check
will reveal the broad spectrum of cultures and civiliza-
tions in which Jews, at one time or another, found themselves.

Very little serious research has been done on the
origins of even the better known Haggadah tunes, to say
nothing of the infinite number of lesser known ones. Hut,
perhaps, we can make a beginning.

The tune for Mah Nishtanah, the motivating device for
the Seder, comes from the study-nigun so familiar to those
whose Jewish education includes Talmud learned in the East
European fashion. Since the Seder is intended primarily as
a demonstration lesson for children on the Jewish struggle
for freedom, it is natural that the folk, in its wisdom,
should have borrowed for this lesson the same motif used in
other forms of Jewish study.

Kadesh U'r'chatz, the outline which lists the fourteen
steps of the Seder and which is actually not a part of the
Haggadah, is sung primarily in two ways: One tune traces
its origin back to the Jewish community in Babylonia;
another, is in the minor mode which is traditional for the
week-day Shaharit. The same mode is utilized, with some
minor exceptions, for the long section of explanatory and
historic material which constitutes the parent 's answer to
the Four Questions, beginning with Avadim Havinu.

Of course, the hasidim, with their great love for song,
have a field-day at the Seder. The Haggadah tunes of the
Makarever and Karliner hasidim are especially beloved. They
add variety and spice to the musical fare by borrowing
melodic themes from the high holidays, from the Selihot
liturgy and from other festivals, as well. Chasal Sidur
Pesah, for instance, is sung by the hasidim to the tune of
the piyut in Neilah, Enkat M' saldekha.

The very popular melodies for Adir Hu and Had Gadya ,
which are Middle-Ages German in origin are rejected by the
hasidim in favor of melodies which seem more familiar to
them. (Hence, they think, more Jewish.) Alas, a little
investigation shows that their tunes are as Slavic in
origin as the rejected ones are Germanic.

It is interesting to note that almost all musical
traditions agree on the manner in which the Ten Plagues are
enumerated. These are read out in a dull, monotonous, one
or two-note chant, as if to teach that human suffering, no
matter how richly deserved, is hardly a subject for exulta-
tion.

As might be expected, when it is time for Hallel at
the Seder, all traditions use the mode in which it is sung
in the synagogue. It is also remarkable that Hallel is one
of the few prayer sections whose musical mode (natural
minor) has been accepted almost universally, in Sephardi
as well as Ashkenazi congregations.

The hasidim conclude the Seder with a Had Gadya tune
which is based on the mode of the Haftarah. Most other
communities, especially in America, prefer the madrigal-
type tune on which most of us were raised.

All of the foregoing is merely to celebrate again the
rich and varied musical heritage which is ours. While we
naturally prefer what is familiar, at the Seder — where
the Haggadah itself is such a multi-hued tapestry, a little
experimentation with a "different" tune might be in order.
In our home, guests are encouraged to sing "their" tunes as
well as ours. Whatever the tune, the Haggadah must be sung.
A Seder without singing is like a Haggadah without kredlach .

A joyous Pesah to all.

V-

Fulfilling A Trust

We have already spoken of the implicit obligation of
the Jew to preserve Jewish tradition and also to enrich and
expand it. For a long time after the immigrant days of the
early twentieth century Jewish music in general and syna-
gogue music in particular fed itself on the past. The
traditions of Eastern Europe, of Germany and of other
Jewish communities were transplanted bodily onto the Amer-
ican scene. Strangely enough, it was the Yiddish theater
that showed the first and greatest creativity and the
ability to adapt itself to new situations and a new cul-
tural atmosphere. By the early thirties there were fifteen
Yiddish theaters functioning in the New York City area. At
least twelve of these were predominantly musical theaters
producing dozens of new works each season.

The synagogue, however, enjoyed no such good fortune.
Here tradition was harder to remold. Young Jewish composers
who should have been influenced and encouraged to turn their
talents to the synagogue, had no choice except to turn to
Second Avenue or to Broadway where their talents were better
appreciated and better paid.

It was not until the early fifties that it occurred
to American synagogues and to organizations interested in
the preservation and enhancement of Jewish music that
composers were human beings who needed to be wanted and who
needed to make a living from their craft, A number of
leading synagogues, among them the Park Avenue Synagogue of
New York and the Temple on the Heights in Cleveland, at the
instigation of their hazzanim, David Putterman and Saul
Meisels, instituted annual programs of commissions to
Jewish composers. These programs have been flourishing now
for two decades.

Thanks to the sensitivity and generosity of our own
Sisterhood, Temple Beth El can now join the ranks of this
select group. Last month the Sisterhood extended a
commission to Dr. Samuel Adler, Professor of Composition at
the Eastman School of Music, to write a suite of three
pieces for the high holy days. Entitled, "Hinay Yom HaDin, "
the suite contains exciting new settings to three of the
major texts of the liturgy: "U'n 'taneh Tokef, " "Hayom
Harat 01am" and "El Meleh Yoshev Al Kisei Rahamim. " The
premiere performance of this work will be heard on Sunday
evening, December 14th as part of the Beth El Forum Concert.
The chorus of the State College at Geneseo under the direc-
tion of Dr. Robert Isgro will join me in that performance.

Whatever the reaction to the pieces themselves the
fact remains that Sisterhood has already performed a
creative mitzvah in that it has made it possible for a
talented Jewish composer to think about and to express
himself on portions of our high holy day liturgy.

S3

Whatever Happened to
Mendel son and Wagner?

Over the past years weddings at Beth El have undergone
a quiet revolution. Without protests, strikes or even the
threat of violence, brides and grooms have come to under-
stand that a Jewish wedding should reflect, in every way
possible, the traditions, the customs and the culture of
the Jewish people.

Since the marriage service is held in the synagogue and
the rabbi and hazzan are invited to sanctify the occasion,
it is proper that the same standards which we observe at
other synagogue services should hold, as well, for the
marriage service. Gone is the day when the hazzan or the
choir needed to borrow from Italian opera, or from German
lieder or from Russian folk-songs in order to impress or to
entertain the congregation. We now understand that the
prosody of our liturgy fits best the cadences of music
whose roots go back to our own land and our own history.

So it has become with the marriage service. The
strains of Wagner or Mendelson are as alien to a Jewish
wedding as a Verdi aria is to Kol Nidre.

The immigrant generation may have felt a need to blend
into the American culture as quickly as possible, so it was
understandable that they permitted what their neighbors
considered to be "traditional wedding music" to be heard at
Jewish weddings. It was important for them to feel that
their religious rites were not substantially different from
those of the majority culture.

We are a long way past the melting-pot stage. Whatever
else the social ferment of these last years has produced,
one thing we have learned: Every man has the right, more,
the responsibility to express himself in his own unique
fashion. Young people call it "doing their own thing. "and
imagine they have discovered something new. The rabbis
taught, centuries ago, the uniqueness and individuality of
every man and the respect due this uniqueness from others
and from himself.

Fortunately for us we have a four thousand year old,
wide-ranging culture from which to draw our uniqueness. In
addition, Jewish creativity in music is far beyond what our
small number might lead one to expect, both in quality and
quantity.

So, Wagner and Mendelson will not be missed. Bloch,
Diamond, Adler, Weiner, Secunda, Kosakoff, Ellstein, Ben
Haim, Fromm, Schalit, Bernstein and Milhaud — to name
only a few — stand ready to take their place.

Artistry and Sincerity

There are those today who see elegance, style, wit,
art and virtuosity as symbols of the decadence of our cul-
ture. In all fields of artistic endeavor there are those
artisans (not artists) who are catering to this anti-beauty
mood by reverting to primitive forms.

In the field of education this mood shows up in the
demands of some students to decide who is to teach them;
what and how he is to teach; firmly believing that their
own lack of knowledge can be made up for by their sincerity.

In the synagogue this mood reveals itself in attempts
to question the role which the choir, or even the profes-
sional hazzan takes in the service. The theory is that one
who is knowledgeable, one who has worked at perfecting a
sacred or musical craft, i.e., one who is "artistic" cannot
possibly be as real or as sincere in prayer leadership as
the less knowledgeable, less skilled layman, whose sincerity,
somehow, is never questioned.

It might be relevant, in the fact of such a mood, to
remind ourselves of the way in which previous generations
looked upon hazzanic virtuosity. I draw your attention to
such an appraisal which appeared, unsigned, in a recent
issue of the "Adas Israel Chronicle" of Washington, D. C.

"When people attended services daily as well as
Sabbath and Holidays, they actually welcomed variety.

"At periods of withdrawals from popular culture, and
especially when prayer texts became fixed, interpolations
were frowned upon, and sometimes with ample justification,
for there were times when the additions may have vulgarized
the service. It was in this period that the era of the
virtuoso hazzan set in, whose purpose it was to clothe the
routine text with skilled and imaginative variations.
Music was a potent instrument in worship, and lent excite-
ment as well as novelty to the service. The hazzan, by the
beauty of his voice, the tuneful content of his chant,
brought ecstasy to the recitation of the prayers. Thus,
people would often attend two services on a given Sabbath
or Holiday — once to fulfill their sacred duty; the second
time to draw an added measure of inspiration through the
medium of the cantorial chants.

"The length and verbosity of the traditional service,
which was substantial, invited the need for variation and
novelty. Since the text could not be changed, why not
change the melody? Because of a cutting down in their
traditional length, services in the contemporary synagogue
have been more or less standardized. The need for varia-
tion, however, still exists. "

5*

What Goes On at a
Cantors Convention?

The inevitable questions came this week upon our
return from the 23rd annual convention of the Cantors
Assembly. Is there much singing? what do cantors talk
about at a convention? why do you open a professional
convention to laymen?

Yes, there was a lot of singing not only at concerts,
workshops, demonstrations and services, but you could pick
up a new Hashkivenu or a Rosh Hodesh bentsh ' n in the
lobbies, the dining room, on the sundeck or even in the
health club. One soon became accustomed, too, to some
hundred or more hazzanim doing their daily vocalizing in
the privacy of their rooms; the walls are thin and the
voices strong. Singing is an art which demands constant
practice. The layman is understandably puzzled by the bed-
lam of a hundred vocalizing hazzanim, but to the professional
it is a good sign that his colleagues are concerned with the
perfection of their art.

This year, hazzanim talked and argued about a wide
variety of subjects. They were joined by seven rabbis, six
composers, thirteen Eastman School of Music singers and
instrumentalists, one rabbinical student (our own Seymour
Rosenbloom) one cantorial student and one doctoral candi-
date in education. Among the topics discussed were, "Can
the Sabbath Service Survive the Seventies?" "The Challenges
and Responsibilities Which Composers and Hazzanim Share, "
"Another New Prayer Hook? An analysis of the new Mahzor
soon to be published by the Rabbinical Assembly. " The
results: Scores of new questions to ponder, some answers,
some new ideas and many more questions to be explored at
future conventions.

Finally, we invite laymen because every man who prays
with fellow Jews is, in a real sense, a hazzan. Hazzanut
is the medium of Jewish prayer. No matter how limited his
vocal skill, the davening layman must sing, or chant at
prayer, on his own, or as he follows or joins with the
hazzan. Ultimately, the success of the mission of the
hazzan to lead Jews to prayer and in prayer lies with the
congregation. If they join with him, his prayer is authentic
and moving. If they sit silently as he "prays" for them all
is lost. Hazzan and congregation are inextricably bound
together every day of the year, why not at a convention
where the ties that bind them together are under discussion?

If all of the foregoing sounds interesting, make a
note. Next year's convention of the Cantors Assembly will
take place at Grossinger's beginning Sunday, May 2nd.

A Horn By Any Other Name

In a learned and fascinating article in a recent issue
of the "Journal of Synagogue Music, " Dr. Alfred Sendrey,
musicologist, author and music-historian points out a
number of glaring inaccuracies in the way the Hebrew names
of the instruments mentioned in the Bible have been trans-
lated, or better, mis-translated.

Our specific knowledge of the nature and sound of
music in Biblical times is practically nil: almost no rec-
ords from that time remain. But we did think, until Dr.
Sendrey came along, that we had a fairly good idea of what
the instruments used in those days were like and hence were
able to deduce what the music might have sounded like.

The first translation of the Bible into English was
made by John Wycliffe. This was followed shortly by a
reputedly "improved" translation by John Hereford. Both
men lived in the 14th century and based their work almost
entirely on the Greek Septuagint and Latin Vulgate trans-
lations of the Hebrew. There is little evidence that they
were familiar with the original Hebrew.

These were followed by a number of additional trans-
lations which continued the glaring misconceptions of the
earlier translators, at least as far as musical terms were
concerned.

Some examples:

Ugab is almost universally translated as "organ. "
This error was probably due to the fact that in classic
Greek all musical instruments are referred to as organum
mousikon. What the translators did not take into consider-
ation was the fact that such a complicated instrument as
the organ could never have been constructed by the ancient
Hebrews, just fresh from a long, nomadic existence.
Sendrey selects "pipe" as being the accurage translation.

Take the word kinnor. It is alternately translated as
"psaltery, " "harp, " "zither" or "lute. " It was not until
the newest translation of the Masoretic text appeared in
1962 that the kinnor was finally established as a "lyre. "
This news will probably be disconcerting to the Yiddish
folklorists who always pictured David playing the violin.
It will take some readjustment to replace fiddeleh
(affectionate form for violin in Yiddish) with "lyre. "

n

Even so familiar an instrument as the shofar gets
translated in half a dozen different ways. Sendrey
suggests we should settle for "horn" or "ram's horn."

Sendrey 's article is filled with many more such
examples of clarifying scholarship. I recommend you read
it, either by borrowing the December issue of the "Journal
of Synagogue Music" from the Temple Library or by sub-
scribing to this interesting and informative quarterly. I
will be glad to arrange the sidduch* for you.

ss

Why So Little From Israel?

I am often asked why so little new sacred music is
being created in Israel. One might expect that the Holy
Land, whose Temple's songs inspired the entire ancient
world and provided the roots for our own sacred music as
well as that of the Church, might now be experiencing a
renaissance. Scholars and musicians agree that the study
of and the inspired use of Biblical cantillation modes
could open the way to a new flowering of Jewish sacred
music. There are others that feel that over the centuries
Jewish music has been subject to pollution, assimilation
and acculturation. There can be no revival of Jewish
sacred music, they say, until it undergoes a thorough self-
cleansing by knowledgeable scholars.

With these possibilities open both to creative artists
and to Jewish musicologists it is disappointing that so
little new sacred or cleansed music has come out of Israel.

A number of Israeli composers has shown interest in
the Bible but more for its historical and national relevance
than for the purpose of creating new liturgical music.

A few composers have been moved to create new litur-
gical music by commissions from this country, but
unfortunately there is no one in Israel to ask or to
encourage an Israeli composer to compose music for Israel ' s
synagogues. Israeli composers are generally not synagogue-
goers; most of them stand aloof from ritual and prayer.

The synagogue leadership has shown little inclination
to attract musicians or a music-loving public. Paradoxi-
cally, it was the Socialist kibbutz movement which first
encouraged poets and composers to create new literary and
musical forms for the traditional Jewish festivals —
Pesah, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot . Here, too, the
emphasis was on the cultural and the ethical precepts of
Judaism rather than on its liturgical forms.

The ban on instrumental music, so often interpreted
as being derived from a spirit of national mourning for
the ancient Temple was, in reality, based on the impulses
of an art-suspicious period. The Church, in its early
years, banned excessive music because it was reminiscent
of the Jewish practice in King Solomon 's Temple

n

Islam banned music as a detracting element from the
core of its belief. We Jews found a sentimental reason.
But now, with Jerusalem united and the Temple site once
more in Jewish hands, the time for mourning a two thousand
year old catastrophe should be at an end. Israel should
lead the way to returning to the synagogue the deep
spiritual meaning and the artful splendour that were the
Temple's golden age of ancient Israel.

What About Israel ?

A musical work is the product as much of the
composer's own period and surroundings as of the creative
faculties of the artist himself. While it is of little
interest to search for nationalistic trends, for regional
traits, or spiritual leanings in a work of art, it most
certainly does belong to its period as well as to the place
where it was created. Many are the examples in music
history of composers who were voluntarily or involuntarily
transplanted to a new environment where the musical climate
was different from that in which they grew up originally.
Flemish composers who emigrated to Italy in the early 16th
century sought the warmer and livelier atmosphere of the
sunny south, and their music composed in Italy took on a
different character. Beethoven and Brahms exchanged their
cold birthplace cities in Northern Germany and went to live
in cosmopolitan Vienna. Hungarian-born Liszt felt best in
the musical atmosphere of Paris. Chopin abandoned his
native Poland for France, as did Russian-born Stravinsky
some eighty years later. And though characteristic
features of style and expression link the early works of
all these composers and their mature musical creations,
profound changes in musical outlook and style were natu-
rally brought about by their adoption of a new country.

For these great masters of European music a change in
domicile meant a new colouring of their works or a synthesis
of various styles. For the Jewish composers who left their
countries of birth to settle in the land of Israel, to find
a new home, the situation was slightly different . Not only
did they come to a new continent, so to speak, which had
nothing of the civilization and cultural tradition in which
they had grown up, but they also soon acquired the feeling
that they were called upon to contribute, by their very
creative work, to the upbuilding of the old-new country.
Their previous notions seemed curiously out of place in the
new surroundings. Acclimatization was imperative.

(More Next Week)

More About the Music of Israel

Israel received the bulk of its citizens in three
aliyot. The first to come were the Russian-Polish Jews.
These were followed, decades later, by Jews from Central
and Western Europe, escapees from the Holocaust. Most
recently Israel 's cultural mosaic was enriched by the
African and Asiatic immigration.

Each of these aliyot contributed equally to the basic
trends in Israel ' s music of today, as far as the old and
middle-aged composers are concerned. The composers hailing
from the Eastern-European countries, in which a profound
Jewish renaissance had come under way, developed in the
spirit of Eastern-European art-music coupled with the feel-
ing for Jewish values. The composers from Central and
Western Europe had gone through the schools of modernism in
the nineteen-twenties; their knowledge of Jewish folk music
and Jewish life in general was much less developed than
that of their colleagues from the east .

The aliyot from these different zones brought many
composers to the land. Almost none came from the African
and Asiatic countries; at least, not as creators of musical
art works as the West understands them. But all musicians
from the ancient countries are composers. A melody or an
instrumental tune is composed, that is to say, put together
while it is performed, on the basis of most ancient formulas,
and of handed-down schemes of elaboration, ornamentation
and variation. Acquaintance with their singing and playing
proved a welcome attraction to the western musicians with
open ears and hearts, and while many among the public at
large, accustomed to listening to Beethoven and Tschaikow-
sky, Chopin and Brahms, if not to the Beatles, dismiss
genuine singing and playing of the kind as "non-European " ,
"Primitive" , "Monotonous" , composers studying this music
know they return to the roots of all musical art.

Those among Israel 's composers — and their number is
growing — who have absorbed something of these roots, have
come to understand the power of expression, the attraction
of variety, the intellectual as well as the sensual pleasure
of singing and playing as the musicians of ancient tradi-
tions do. At last, a synthesis is being accomplished in
some Israeli compositions, of East and West, of the tradi-
tional and the modern of the rule-bound and the experi-
mental-free.

K

More on Israeli Music

The earliest attempts at coming to terms with the
newly conquered world were, naturally, arrangements and
elaborations of folksongs. Some of these attempts were
doomed to failure, as the composers applied western harmony
and composition technique to tunes demanding quite a
different treatment.

And which were the tunes, really?

The first aliyot of Eastern-European immigrants
brought material collected by members of the Jewish Folk-
lore Society of Petersburg, hassidic tunes and dances, and
liturgical nusschaot from their countries. There was little
in them of genuine Jewish heritage. Slav elements had
changed old melodies and rhythms.

The first Palestinian composers, men like Rosowsky,
Engel, set poems by Bialik and other early poets to music
in the vein of what they had known in their old lands and
the modern Hebrew limped along in false prosody for a long
time until the metric rules of the reborn Hebrew language
were acknowledged.

Musically the next wave of immigration from Central
and Western European countries brought children's songs
and folktunes from countries with quite different musical
traditions. Only in the late forties and early fifties
did the African and Asiatic Jewish immigration acquaint
the musicians and the public at large with folklore of
really ancient heritage, being of, and belonging to
Israel's geographical region and cultural climate.

(More next week)

Still More On Israel 's Music

Some of the composers who have most successfully
synthesized the styles and tradition of Eastern and Western
music are Jacob Stutchewsky, Paul Ben-Haim, Joseph Tal,
A. Boscovich, Menahim Avidom, Mordecai Seter and Odeon
Partos. These composers, among others, have given impetus,
direction, instruction and example to the younger composers.

An excellent example is the above-named Odeon Partos,
who has most successfully blended tradition and modernism,
East and West, in his creativity. His piece, "Yizkor" will
be heard at the next Forum concert on Sunday, March 22nd.

Partos has thoroughly mastered the music of tone-rows,
serial music, as practiced by most of the important com-
posers of present-day western music, and he has learned of
the deep-rooted parallelism between the Eastern conception
of tone-rows and the most ancient tone — and melody-models
known as raqa in the Indian world and as maqamat in the
Arab Near-East. His instrumental compositions, like the
Viola Concerto No. 2, the Quintet for flute and strings
"Magamat", the "Images" for large orchestra, and "Visions"
for chamber orchestra, are all proof of his talent to
synthesize and combine Near-Eastern elements and modern
techniques of elaboration.

Among the younger composers, we must mention Ben-Zion
Orgad, Yehoshua Lakner, Abel Ehrlich and Yizhak Sadai — as
musicians who have tried to come to grips with the musical
world of the East. Still younger are Ami Ma'ayani, Noam
Sheriff. And in the music academies of Jerusalem and Tel
Aviv there is developing a number of composers whose names
will probably soon be familiar to all of us.

No mention has been made here of the lighter side of
musical composition, which, as may be expected, follows in
a similar, although simpler vein. Best-known in the field
of lighter symphonic music and oratorio is the late Marc
Lavry, a master of his craft in his own right, whose works
are often performed in Israel and in the world at large.

U

The Sound of Yiddish

The character and style of a people are often reflected
in its language. With its determinedly precise convoluted
construction, its gutteral pronunciation and clipped
prosody. German aptly mirrors the German people. On the
other hand, French, fragile and elegant as it falls from
the lips, evokes images of candlelight reflected in crystal,
heady wine and beautiful women. Italians manage to sound
apocalyptic merely asking for directions to the nearest bus
stop.

If one had to capture the essence of Yiddish in a word,
it would be musicality. More than any other language
Yiddish lives and breathes on cadence, intonation and
nuances of sound. This is hardly surprising when you con-
sider how deeply music infiltrates Jewish life.

The names of Jewish children — Mireleh, Soreleh,
Chaneleh, Avremeleh, Chayimel — sing with an inner melody
all their own. How warm and lilting are words like
Shabbesdig, mameh, licht-bensh'n, heilig, freiheit . How
much better to be a kabtz 'n -a word reminiscent of the
clash of cymbals — than a pauper -a word which gives off
the sound of pennies, dropping into a collection plate.

Or take the Yiddish one-syllable exclamation, Nu!

Spoken largo et sotto voce by an important ballebos at
the synagogue's eastern wall it conveys an unmistakable
warning to the rabbi or the hazzan to get on with it. In-
toned in a mezzo soprano range on a descending melisma it
could mean: "Well, why shouldn't he get the Maftir aliyah?
After all he paid for the repair of the roof. " In a soft
addolcendo or addolorate it could convey, "What did you
expect from him? He hardly learned Aleph Bes!" Two short
staccato Nu's in succession convey pure disbelief or
astonishment: "She will marry him?"

What brings all this to mind is the appearance last
week of a new issue of "Jewish-Roots, " a periodical devoted
to preserving and spreading the music of the Yiddish word.
Under the redaction of the award winning poet, Israel Emiot,
the issue boasts a wide variety of Yiddish stories, poetry,
articles and essays in the original and in translation.
Among these is an article by Deborah Karp, a short story by
Hannah Robfogel Fox and my own translations of three fables
by the supremely talented fablist, Eliezer Steinbarg.

"Jewish Roots" is available at the J.Y. or at the
Sisterhood Book Shop. Buy a copy and sing a little.

IS

More On the Music of Yiddish

The recent column on the lyricism of Yiddish attracted
an unusually large number of comments. I am particularly
pleased with a note which I received from Hazzan William
Belskin Ginsburg of Philadelphia, a regular reader of our
Temple Bulletin:

"Dear Sam:

"I am taking time out from my normal "hum-drum" to
tell you how much I enjoyed your recent article in your
Temple Bulletin concerning the musical sound of Yiddish.
Once in a great while I pick up a Yiddish newspaper and
revel even in the advertisements. There is something about
a mother tongue which evokes a warm nostalgia. Perhaps it
is the music of the words as you suggest or their associa-
tion with sweet bygone experiences. Too bad that most of
our young people in this generation are interested in
acquiring a few words simply as a vehicle for understanding
jokes, as in Leo Rosten's "The Joy of Yiddish."

"I can remember the pompous Germanic Yiddish which our
forebears used for "State" occasions — "Sie sind heflich
eingeladen tzu der hochzeit" etc. or "es is unz galungen
tzu arrangeeren — dem hochgeshetzten" etc., etc. — all
smacking of cold formality, lacking the warmly responsive
reaction to the diminutives you mention.

"This generation still uses an occasional Yiddish
expression to remember a parent or grandparent "My father
or grandfather used to say" etc. What of the next
generation?

"Will you put a copy of "Jewish Roots in the mail for

Those who may want more than nostalgia can still join
the adult class in Yiddish held each Wednesday evening
from 8 to 9.

lb

A Touch of Brass

During the last two decades thousands of Israeli
youngsters have spent uncounted hours in various wind bands
and ensembles that have been formed since the establishment
of the State, in big cities, development towns and agri-
cultural settlements.

Wherever morale was low, as a result of terrorist
bombings, border attacks, economic stress, one of the first
steps taken for changing the atmosphere has been to build
up a youth band; witness those at Beit Shaan, Kiryat
Shemona, Maalot as samples. In the big cities, those
youngsters who learn any instrument at all, choose a wind
instrument. Most of the marching bands or wind ensembles
come from the underprivileged neighborhoods where parents
cannot afford high fees for professional music instruction.

There is something especially appealing about a band
instrument. It is easier to get than a violin or piano.
It is more fun to join a wind group, harmonize with
friends, or perform before an audience as part of a large
body of music makers.

A few Israeli municipalities have the vision to under-
stand the sociological as well as cultural benefits from
supporting instruction in band instruments and wind
ensembles. They make provision to provide some funds.
Most other communities are not so fortunate. Another
difficulty is procuring good instruments, any instruments
for the youngsters. Prices in Israel are three times as
high as in other countries. On instruments sent by bene-
factors from abroad, recipients have to pay a 200% custom
tax and other charges which makes it impossible for them to
accept the instrument .

The Music Foundation for Youth Music Projects in
Israel is a non-profit organization with a multi-faceted
program for furthering music education in Israel through
schools, camping projects, seminars, etc. They are currently
engaged in procuring instruments for needy Israeli children .
Through a special arrangement with the Israeli government
instruments brought into the country by the Music Founda-
tion go without charge to the eager young musicians.

The Music Foundation is asking all American Jewish
communities to begin a campaign to search out basements
and attics for unused but playable wind instruments of all
kinds which can be contributed through the Music Foundation
to an eager and needy child in Israel.

J7

To highlight this campaign, the Eastman School's world
famous "Wind Ensemble, " under the direction of Donald
Hunsberger, will present a concert in the Eastman Theater
on Sunday afternoon, April 20 at 3:30. Open to the entire
community, admission will be by the contribution of a
usable instrument, or by a gift of $5 or more. Gifts,
whether of an instrument or of money, are tax deductible,
and a tax deductible statement will be given to every con-
tributor.

Here is a painless and rewarding way in which to help
Israeli children to make use of instruments that have long
lain silent and to make a tax deductible contribution to a
good cause all in one act. We urge parents and children
to search their homes and their consciences and to contri-
bute unused wind instruments to this worthy project.

The Cantorate as a Career

Music and song occupy a very special place in Jewish
life. These are not art forms which are tacked on to life
but integral parts of life itself. The Jew worships and
studies with song. He sings at times of rejoicing and,
although sadly, he sings in time of sorrow.

From the synagogue's earliest days the hazzan has been
both the creator and custodian of its music. Jewish tradi-
tion holds that the Synagogue modes and special tunes
descended with the Commandments themselves; as if to teach
that they are as sacred, as vital and as inviolable as the
Law itself.

In the past quarter century the American hazzan has
expanded his interests, his skills and his efforts to
include among his responsibilities every aspect of Jewish
melos, from the nursery tunes of little children to the
most complex choral and orchestral works .

Nevertheless, the hazzan remains now, as always, first
and primarily a sheliah tzibbur, the emissary of the con-
gregation in prayer before the Holy Ark. Standing there,
his awesome responsibility is to illuminate and to illus-
trate the words of prayer and study in order that those who
worship with him may experience new insights into their own
lives and into the faith and ideals of the Jewish people.

The hazzan' s job does not end there. The nature of
the American synagogue affords him additional challenges
and opportunities. These center around the synagogue's
function as a Bet Hamidrash, a house of study, for young
and old. The hazzan may become involved in teaching Jewish
music, cantillation, choral singing and folk songs to
students of the religious school and to adults enrolled in
the synagogue's adult education program. Most hazzarrim
today also have the responsibility for the instruction of
Bar and Hat Mitzvah candidates.

The hazzan also shares with the rabbi the responsi-
bility of visiting the sick, comforting the bereaved and
officiating at joyous occasions. A number of hazzanim
have distinguished themselves in varied fields of Jewish
endeavor while maintaining their posts as hazzanim. These
men are making contributions to Jewish life as composers,
concert artists, poets, writers, educators and innovative
program-planners. A number of them are pursuing advanced

41

Jewish study and research. Such opportunities are open to
all hazzanim. They are limited only by a man's talent and

A career in the cantorate can be a rewarding,
fulfilling and a constructive one.

The Research Center

We have had occasion previously to refer to the great
work being performed quietly by the Jewish Music Research
Center of the Hebrew University. The Center exists
primarily to collect and study documents relating to the
musical tradition and the musical life of Jewish communities
during their historical development and in the fostering of
musical and scholarly research and publication in this
field.

From a recent Research Report of the Jewish Music
Research Center we glean the following nugget of informa-
tion on the subject of the original appearance and sound of
the Biblical instrument described as a "nebel." A recent
study by Dr. B. Bayer of the Jewish Music Research Center
aimed to locate all mentioned sources of the instrument to
the end of the period of the Second Temple, to arrange them
as precisely as possible in chronological order and to
interpret them by strict criteria of evidential value.

The nebel (in Greek, nabla, in Latin, nablium) is
mentioned, in addition to 27 Biblical references, five
times by Creek writers through the Third Century B.C.E.;
twice in the Apocrypha; three times in the Dead Sea Scrolls;
three times in the works of Josephus and six times in the
Mishna.

Dr. Bayer concludes that it is probable that the nebel
came into use in the Kingdom of Israel at the end of the
Eighth Century B.C.E. and at approximately that time in
Judea as well .

After the Restoration, the musician-Levites of the
Second Temple instituted a string orchestra of kinnorot
and nebalim in imitation of the Mesopotamian court orches-
tras. The nebel seems to have been in use in Phoenicia,
Alexandria, Greece and Rome as well . The instrument was a
relatively large one, inelegantly shaped, (for the Greeks)
with a deep and somewhat raucous tone. Dr. Bayer believes
that it contained more than the twelve strings of the
kinnor, that they were thicker in texture, plucked with the
fingers, and that the nebel functioned merely as an
accompanying instrument . The accepted impression which
identified the nebel as a type of harp is not supported by
the evidence which seems to indicate quite definitely that
it was a special type of lyre, Dr. Bayer conjectures that
it is a nebel which is imprinted on the ancient coins of
Bar Kokhba .

KOL NIDRE:
Golden Melody for Tarnished Words

The Kol Nidre ritual continues to fascinate me. There
are probably more myths and legends woven around its melody
than almost any other liturgical theme heard in the syna-
gogue. Most synagogue music falls into the category of
what musicians call "program music. " That is, music com-
posed to express a theme, an idea, to tell a story, or to
enhance the text of a prayer. Actually, the primary task
of the hazzan is to make the words of the liturgy more
meaningful, more moving, more relevant. It was and is
considered vulgar to use a melody which has no integral
relationship to the text merely to introduce a lovely tune.

Kol Nidre is the outstanding exception to that rule.
It is the melody that stands out, that touches the heart,
that moves the worshipper. The words add absolutely
nothing to its mysitcal attraction.

What do the words actually mean?

As we approach Yom Kippur we are reminded of our past
errors for which we hope to receive forgiveness from the
Almighty. And we shall ask for forgiveness with words.
But words are not always infallible nor are they always
pure and contrite. We are led into most of our pitfalls
with words misspoken, poorly chosen, inappropriately
delivered, improperly deceptive. How can words alone bring
us the forgiveness we seek?

The words are nothing more than a dry, legal formula
which need careful thought and interpretation to make them
meaningful and binding. But any melody that would attempt
to translate them faithfully into song cannot possibly be
moving, or even interesting. Obviously, the strength and
longevity of the Kol Nidre melody comes from association
with poignant moments in the Jewish past, and draws upon
our memories, our longings and our hopes as Jews.

The Kol Nidre text was already in use in the 9th
century. It, therefore, evolved well before the Spanish
Inquisition. What's more, many Sephardi communities, which
are much closer to the Spanish Jewish tradition than those
of European Jews, did not recite Kol Nidre at all. So we
can be quite certain that Kol Nidre did not originate, as
the legend has it, as a ritual of absolution for Marranos
who wanted to be forgiven their oaths to be faithful
Christians so that they might join their Jewish brothers
in prayer.

Another legend, less known, also involves the
Marranos but concerns the music and not the words. It
proposes that the Kol Nidre tune originated as a series of
phrases used as a code for Marranos. When a Marrano
attempted to enter one of the secret Yom Kippur services he
was made to pass from one watchman to another. He would
chant a phrase and would receive the next phrase in
response. He would then be directed to the next watchman
until he reached the actual service and joined his fellow
Marranos who were risking their lives to be Jews again on
this holiest of days.

Though this story is quite attractive it has not won
wide support since in those Sephardi communities where Kol
Nidre is now chanted, the melody which we all love so much
is not used at all . However, the legend is important for
another reason. It proposes that the melody is built up
out of separate musical phrases. Even a cursory inspec-
tion of the melody would seem to bear this out.

The opening phrase of the Kol Nidre tune was
originally sung without words as a sort of overture, as
though the hazzan, in awe and trepidation, was timidly
knocking at the Gates of Mercy. Such introductions, or
overtures, as quite common in the Jewish liturgical tradi-
tion. The major section of the high holy day Shaharit
service is introduced by the word "Hamelech, " the King,
which is sung without words before it is actually articu-
lated. This is also true of the first word of the Amidah
when chanted by the hazzan in his repetition.

Musicologists have analyzed each phrase and have
clearly identified them. Originally, it is thought that
these phrases were patched together according to the taste
and preference of the hazzan. The combination which we
know now was probably not formalized until the late 18th
century.

Whatever its origin, it is almost impossible to
explain the melody's mystical attraction. This is the
Jewish song par-excellence and it achieves its grand status
without any help from the words. For more than two cen-
turies this melody has been linked to the holiest day of
the Jewish year. It has become the song of the soul seeking
God, the melody of a people striving to be like Him.

When Hazzanim Gather

Take it from those who have attended the annual con-
ventions of the Cantors Assembly, they are unique. By
comparison they make the conventions of all other Jewish
organizations seem pale, drab and downright boring.

The Cantors Assembly is the only professional organi-
zation in the Conservative Movement that invites laymen to
attend. The reasoning behind this philosophy is simple:
the sacred work of hazzanim has to do with people, with
motivating, with teaching, with inspiring and with leading.
Issues and problems, challenges and goals which hazzanim
face are in a real sense shared by the men and women of the
congregations they serve.

The Twenty-Fifth Anniversary Convention will be held
at Grossinger's from Sunday, April 23rd through Thursday
afternoon, April 27th. Those who have been to previous
conventions know that one never lacks for music from early
morning to late at night; formal and informal concerts,
recitals, workshops and just plain singing for the fun of
it can be heard throughout the hotel. This year, in addi-
tion to the over four hundred members of the Assembly and
probably an equal number of lay people the list of lecturers
and artists reads like a page from Who's Who: Dr. Bernard
Mandelbaum, Chancellor of the Jewish Theological Seminary,
Dr. Jacob Neusner, Professor of History at Brown University,
Dr. Eugene Borowitz, noted lecturer, publisher and student
of contemporary Jewish life, a number of distinguished
rabbis, the Children 's Chorus of the Metropolitan Opera
House, Zvi Zeitlin, internationally famous violin virtuoso,
four young stars of the New York City Center Opera Company,
the Columbus Boys Choir, a large chorus from the Eastman
School of Music under the direction of Professor Samuel
Adler, and many musical surprises.

April is not too far away. If you would like to avail
yourself of a rare opportunity to attend a convention of
hazzanim now is the time to plan for it. A special conven-
tion rate will be offered to guests and members alike. F ° r
further information and for reservation blanks, please call
Hazzan Samuel Rosenbaum .

-71

I Could Have Told Them

Directly after completing his singularly successful
concert in our synagogue last month, talented, peripatetic
Zvi Zeitlin left on a two month tour which took him half
way around the world. Ten days ago he wound up in Israel
for half dozen performances with the Israel Philharmonic.
Although now a citizen of the United States, Zeitlin 's
heart belongs to Israel, having come there with his parents
at a very early age and having made his reputation as a
child prodigy there. Always popular with Israeli audiences
Zeitlin looked forward to a warm welcome and to adding new
critical acclaim to his international reputation.

But he reckoned without the legendary stubborness of
the Israelis. He had programmed for his appearances with
the orchestra the Schoenberg Violin Concerto; admittedly a
modern work, but one which Zeitlin had already played some
thirty times with great success and without protest all
over Europe. After two well received performances, the
orchestra management reported that it had received com-
plaints about the concerto from subscribers who were
scheduled to attend the remaining concerts. Frightened at
the possibility of an audience strike the management
persuaded Zeitlin to perform the Mendelsohn Concerto in
place of the Schoenberg in his remaining appearances.

After one "safe" performance, the management had
second thoughts about its timidity and rescheduled the
Schoenberg work .

The entire affair became the subject of an avalanche
of letters to the Israeli press, pro and con Schoenberg.
Even that arch-conservative, Yohanan Boehm, Music Editor of
the Jerusalem Post, voiced his embarrassment at those
Israelis who categorically refused to give the work a
hearing. This would be sad enough were it to happen in
old-fashioned places like Paris, London or Vienna but for
Israelis, who snap up every new invention, every new
technique and gadget, who have shown the world a new
approach to living, and who have rewritten the book of
modern warfare, to turn a deaf ear to a new piece of music
is shocking.

It may have been a shock to Boehm, or even to
Zeitlin, but hardly to me: I still bear the scars of
En Kelohenu,

7/