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May 12, 2000/7 Iyar 5760, Vol. 52, No.36
Spiritual chordsAncient, modern melodies elevate synagogue worship
VICKI CABOT
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 Temple Solel Cantor Julie Berlin strives to make synagogue music "special." Photo by Mark Gluckman |
Here in the Valley, Temple Chai, a Reform congregation, attracts hundreds to its early Friday evening Kabbalat Shabbat service, where music figures prominently in the liturgy and worshippers of all ages participate with obvious delight. Avid congregants know much of the repertoire by heart, a mix of old and new melodies, and those unfamiliar with the words or music join effortlessly in frequent "li, li, la, la, la, la, la, li, li" choruses to the accompaniment of Cantor Sharona Feller's guitar.
In the broader American Jewish music world, contemporary composer Debbie Friedman has given new meaning to age-old words with her well-liked renditions of ancient prayers set to haunting new melodies. Her "Mi Shebeirach" has become standard fare in many Reform services, including Kabbalat Shabbat at Temple Chai, and has crossed denominational lines, often as part of the liturgy in healing services.
Friedman's loyal following comprises mostly Jewish baby boomers and their families.
Similarly, there has been a veritable explosion of popular Christian music, with local churches discovering that music has the ability to rock the soul - and bring in the masses.
Although recent developments - in real life and on the silver screen - testify to a renewed interest in music, music has always played a signal role in Jewish life. From the time of the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem, 970 B.C.E. - 70 C.E., music has been an integral part of the religious experience.
"In the ancient temple, the paradigm for great worship had multiple musical instruments," says Rabbi Barton Lee, executive director of Hillel Jewish Student Center at Arizona State University.
"The lute, the harp, trumpet, cymbals - we don't what they all are. From our earliest days, music and the aesthetics of worship have been inextricably linked."
King David (1010-970 B.C.E.) is known as the songwriter of Israel, explains Rabbi Harris Cooperman, principal of Phoenix Hebrew Academy. He wrote much of the Book of Psalms; many of the psalms were meant to be sung with musical accompaniment.
"Open up the book and you'll see that many of the psalms begin with the words 'to the conductor,' " Cooperman says.
After the destruction of the Second Temple, instrumental music in worship fell into disuse. It was revived only in the 19th century, first in Europe later in the United States, as the growing Reform movement embraced the ancient tradition.
Today, Reform and Conservative congregations may include instrumental music in worship; Orthodox Jews prohibit it on Shabbat and other holy days.
Instrumental music - lute, harp, piano, organ, violin, guitar - is but one manifestation of the aesthetic element of worship. Melodious chanting and the precise cantillation of holy readings are also ancient musical expressions.
Cooperman evokes the image of students in an old-time beit midrash (house of study), swaying to the rhythms as they daven. "The song goes in conjunction with the movement," he explains. "How things are sung is also an interpretation (of the words)."
The music helps develop kavannah, he says. "It helps one to focus, to concentrate."
It also helps people to open up. "The rhythm helps in the understanding, the translation, the emotion."
Music is far more expressive than the spoken word, allowing for seemingly limitless innovation and emotional response. People can lose themselves more freely in the music, realizing the essential contemplative nature of prayer.
"Music is nonrational, emotional, affective," says Linda Barzilai, a local freelance cantor. Through music both performer and listener transcend time and place and "go someplace else."
"You can get lost in the melody," says Feller.
Nigun, songs without words that Feller has used effectively in her work at Temple Chai, evoke that kind of transcendent response. The lilting "li, li" melodies derive from ancient chants, probably with Hasidic roots, she says.
"They've always been a part of our music," she says.
The beauty of the nigun, and its appeal, is that it allows everybody to participate. "You don't have to know the words," she explains. Songs without words are liberating, says Barzilai.
"There is lots of anal retentiveness in life. Music (especially music without words) is an utter release."
As it frees the worshipper, it also helps to create a sense of shared mission and purpose. Singing together binds the congregation, while underlining the uniqueness of, and need for, each individual voice.
"Everybody participates," says Barzilai. "Everybody has a gift to give."
The ancient melodies and prayers further evoke powerful memories that foster a sense of Jewish continuity. Rabbi Alan Bright, who is both rabbi and cantor at Beth Emeth Congregation in Sun City West, says that music rooted in 18th - 19th century Eastern Europe stirs his older congregants.
"It evokes memories," he says.
Bright, who trained in an Orthodox yeshiva and cantorial school in London, and later in Memphis, Tenn., agrees that the participatory music is valuable, but suggests that the more traditional model of the cantorial soloist evokes deep feeling in many worshippers.
In many large Orthodox communities, cantors - and male choirs - provide an essential aesthetic element that enhances the emotional and spiritual experience.
Bright tells of the recent interfaith Yom Hashoah service held at Beth Emeth. While most of the service was in English, he chanted the traditional prayer of mourning in Hebrew.
"After the service, people came up and said, 'We didn't understand a word, but the music conveys the sentiment as much as the words.' "
| Composer wants Jews to hum a few bars |
"Change is good," says Feller. "But you can't change everything."
Feller says the text dictates the parameters and that most contemporary liturgical music is simply a variation of a traditional melody.
Deciding how much innovation to introduce depends on the congregation. Establishing familiarity is key to incorporating changes, she says. Temple Chai recently recorded a compact disc of its Kabbalat Shabbat service, then distributed it to congregants to help them feel comfortable with the music. Feller periodically adds a new melody to the now-familiar mix.
Part of the appeal of music is its capacity to enable change, say the cantors. "Music makes you (feel) unlimited," says Barzilai. "You can sing it high or low, fast or slow."
Feller says the potential for change makes the spiritual experience unique and personal. "When you daven you do your own thing so it should be fresh and new every time," she says.
And although contemporary Jewish music has the capacity to move many people, too much innovation may have diminishing returns, says Cantor Julie Berlin of Temple Solel.
"Contemporary music doesn't feel Jewish to me," she says. Likening much of it to "camp music" Berlin prefers to "keep camp music in camp. I think we can use a higher level in the synagogue."
Others say that the contemporary music may attract disaffected Jews who otherwise avoid any religious experience.
The philosophy of "touch them, then teach them," which drives much of the Christian music explosion, plays out in the music of Debbie Friedman and also Craig Taubman, a popular Jewish musician whose work is enjoying a resurgence.
"It's one more way to bring them in," says Cantor Linda Kates, founder of the Mountaintop Minyan at Stephen S. Wise Temple in Los Angeles.
While some of the more contemporary music may not be appropriate in a synagogue setting, Kates says, she will "use it any way I can."
Berlin questions whether contemporary elements in liturgical music will have staying power.
"It is a way to attract people," she says, "but I don't think it will keep them," she says.
"If we offer people the same thing that they get out in the world every day, what will make the synagogue special? Our melodies have been around for ages and there is a comfort in knowing that they are part of the service. Rock music is mundane."
Much of the musical crusade is being focused on young people, many of whom crowd Temple Chai on Friday evenings for Kabbalat Shabbat, closing their eyes and gently swaying to the melodies.
It aims at involving college students, like Josh Lee, a recent University of Arizona graduate who will enter Hebrew Union College School of Sacred Music this summer.
Lee, equipped with a degree in music education and a wealth of Jewish camp experience, decided to pursue a career in Jewish music after spending time in Israel. He returned home determined to learn Hebrew, and now leads services at Hillel at ASU.
For him, the traditional music of prayer is the turn-on. It helps him reach a higher spiritual plane and feel closer to God.
"It is moving and inspiring," he says. "It's just a different chord."