Music, Prayer and Sacred Community

By Merri Lovinger Arian

From the very earliest of times, music and prayer have been inextricably linked in Jewish tradition. As prayer is often an attempt to express the inexpressible, to reach out to the unknowable, and to ask for the seemingly unattainable, it is not surprising that one looks to music to help in this sacred task. Referring to prayer, Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel writes, “The inadequacy of the means at our disposal appears so tangible, so tragic, that one feels it a grace to be able to give oneself up to music, to a tone, to a song, to a chant.”[1] It is in the music of the Jewish people that one finds “…the joys and triumphs, the tenderness and warmth, the agony and sorrows, the prayer and the protest...”[2]

I. The Tradition of Music Within Jewish Worship

Sacred music is first mentioned in the Bible during the time of King David.[3] When the Ark was first transferred to Jerusalem (c. 1000 BCE), the ceremony featured instrumental music and dance (II Sam. 6). Immediately thereafter, even before the First Temple was built, singers were appointed to be in charge of the singing that accompanied the daily and special offerings. (I Chronicles 6: 16-33). Music continued to accompany the sacrificial worship throughout the First Temple period. During the Second Temple era, the music accompanying the service may have been even more elaborate. It featured Levitical choirs and accompanying instrumentation that included woodwinds, percussion, brass and strings.

Towards the end of the Second Temple period, as synagogues began to develop, the worship music that emerged reflected the halachic prohibitions against the use of musical instruments. In respect for the destruction of the Temple, the role of music was somewhat de-emphasized. Early synagogue music was dominated by different types of chant. There is evidence that the art of chanting Biblical verses may have dated back to the time of the Second Temple. The actual codification of the scripture cantillation, as we know it today, didn’t happen until the 7^th- 9^th centuries, with the culmination of the most sophisticated system of notation created by the Massoretic school of Tiberias.

By the 12^th century, one finds reference to Jewish Psalm singing, often antiphonal in nature. Prayer modes, linked to specific times and seasons, developed. These traditional motifs were known as “nusach”, pertaining to a version or manner of style in which the prayers are executed musically according to a given tradition. Nusach became the normative form of musical expression in worship, with different versions (Ashkenazic, Sephardic and others) developing in different geographic regions. In many places, specialists (chazzanim or cantors) were appointed to serve as sh’lichei tzibur (prayer leaders, literally, “representatives of the public”) to lead the chanting in worship. For these professionals, nusach was the basis for their chazzanut (cantorial art), a framework from which they improvised according to their individual talent and skill.

The rise of Hasidism in Eastern Europe in the early 18^th century in many ways represented a populist rebellion against the professionalization of Jewish prayer life. The Baal Shem Tov and his followers taught that through prayer, God could be accessed by every one. A favorite Hasidic musical form is the niggun—a simple, wordless tune—that can be sung easily by every member of the community, not only by trained musical specialists.

In the 18^th and 19^th centuries, reformers in Western Europe adapted the style of synagogue worship, enhancing decorum and formality. These changes were reflected in synagogue music, as the organ was introduced as a staple in liberal congregations. Cantorial art changed as well, becoming increasingly formal. Composed (as opposed to improvised) music, performed by a trained cantor and choir, became the norm in many congregations.

In the late 20^th century and into the 21^st, music continues to play a critical and controversial role in synagogue worship. Congregants increasingly come to synagogue looking for connection and community. Synagogues have responded to this by becoming more intimate in many ways. The architecture of newer synagogues emphasizes closer proximity between the clergy and the congregant, creating a more intimate space. Clergy are creating moments for congregants to share their stories within worship, seeking to promote connectedness between members of the congregation. Music, too, has followed suit. The more intimate sound of the guitar or piano is often used to replace the overwhelming power of the organ as the instrument of choice in worship. Newer synagogue compositions often invite congregational singing, rather than (or, in addition to) cantorial performance.

In each age of Jewish history, Jewish sacred music grows and develops, reflecting the particular needs of the age, and the growth of the liturgy itself. In every age, worship has been enhanced by the unique power of music.

II. The Power of Music

I never cease to be amazed by the indisputable power of music. In my work as a music therapist, music educator, song leader, and prayer leader, I have seen music touch people in a way that nothing else comes close to achieving.

I remember as a music therapist, sitting with geriatric patients who could barely tell me their children’s names. Yet, the moment I began to play a melody for them on the piano, the lyrics of the song would pour out of them, word for word, with astonishing accuracy. Something about the engaging quality of music managed to stay locked securely in their memories, and the instant they heard those familiar tunes the words came tumbling forth. Similarly, when these patients would sit and speak with me about their lives, invariably they would share wonderful memories they had singing in their synagogue or church choirs. A smile would form on their lips as they shared stories of communal religious moments they experienced through participation in these choirs. These “performing” groups performed a function that I am not sure their choir leaders ever imagined. These choirs forged lifelong relationships and memories that brought a sparkle to these seniors’ eyes, too often dimmed by aging and loss.

Then there was the middle-aged gentleman who, recovering from surgery performed on a malignant brain tumor, shared unabashedly that what he had missed most during his convalescence, were his weekly synagogue choir rehearsals. He could well do without the board meetings and countless other committee meetings that he was missing, but eagerly awaited his return to his synagogue choir community.

As an educational tool, music has been proven to be effective in the learning of new material. How did each and every one of us learn to recite the letters of the alphabet? We sang them, of course! Many a Hebrew teacher teaches body parts, colors, days of the week, and members of the family, through songs composed for just that purpose. My own husband learned the names of the first 37 presidents of the United States of America in much the same way. Music compartmentalizes information in a way that is easier for people to store and master. Similarly, the liturgy of our worship services is most effectively taught through the various musical settings that are available to us. An example of the efficacy of music in this arena is best exemplified by Debbie Friedman’s setting of the Mi Shebeirach prayer. For most Reform Jews, this liturgy was completely foreign prior to Debbie’s composition. Now, most Reform Jews can recite this text, almost as easily as they can, the Sh’ma or Bar’chu. This musical setting breathed life into a liturgical text that for many was completely unfamiliar. Music teachers in our religious schools harness this most accessible medium as a tool unparalleled in the school setting.

Dr. Howard Gardner, a Professor in Cognition and Education at the Harvard Graduate School of Education, developed the Theory of Multiple Intelligences. In it he explains that different people learn in different ways. Specifically he speaks of music as one of these portals of learning.

It has been said that music is the heartbeat of a people, and if one is to study the culture of a people, one can learn volumes just by hearing their music. The music of a people tells their story. Judith Kaplan Eisenstein put it beautifully when she stated, “When we live for a moment with that music, we are touching the pulse itself, and our own is quickened in turn.” [4]

Music touches, teaches, transforms, and has the capacity to help individuals transcend their solitary existence to become part of something much greater.

III. Music as a Means of Building Sacred Community

As I have already suggested, music is a medium which bonds people together, our synagogue choirs being a case in point. As a song leader in a number of Jewish camps, time and again I would be reminded of the central role that music played in building these camp communities. Whether it be the highly spirited “A minor medley” of Israeli folksongs, that brought the community to its feet dancing hand in hand, or the more mellow section of the repertoire that had people rocking back and forth, arm in arm, music was at the forefront helping all of this to happen—carefully orchestrated in such a way as to respect and respond to the community it served.

But what about “sacred” community—k’hilah k’doshah? Synagogue 2000, a trans-denominational synagogue transformation project that is committed to helping synagogues examine their current structure and reimagine ways to be better at what they already do, devotes the first 18 months of its 3 year curriculum to the study of Sacred Community. A sacred community is defined as one in which its members are welcoming, caring, and responsive. The conversations that happen within a sacred community are different than those you would hear elsewhere. Committees that comprise a sacred community are seen as teams with common goals. Its members “check in” with one another in a formalized manner, to assure that people are caught up with what is going on in one another’s lives. People study together, pray together, sing together, and share each other’s life’s journeys.

Where does music fit into this community? In ritual, in celebration, in programs, and most importantly for the purpose of this article, in worship. For it is when the community comes together to pray that one can most easily see the sacred at work. Music is, once again, in the forefront. How one selects music, “performs” music, teaches music, and uses music within worship directly affects the strength of the sacred community it seeks to create. For as Rabbi Pinchas Koretz taught “... Alone I cannot lift my voice in song—Then you come near and sing with me. Our prayers fuse, and a new voice soars. Our bond is beyond voice and voice. Our bond is one of spirit and spirit…”[5]

IV. Music as a Means for Creating Meaningful Worship

For the traditional Jew, prayer is a commandment. One comes to the synagogue to pray because one is commanded to do so. Music can heighten that prayer experience and enhance the text in such ways as to bring deeper meaning to the ancient words. The nusach chanted during the worship service sets the tone of the service, signaling a particular time in the Jewish calendar, connecting the prayer with all the history and meaning of that particular time. Melodies of old connect the person praying to a tradition and a long history—an understanding that the sacred act that she is involved in is a link in a long chain. Those melodies intensify the prayer experience as they bring to mind parents and grandparents who came before, uttering these very same words and melodies, hundreds of years before. These melodies serve as touchstones—a guidepost—as one proceeds through the prayer experience.

For the less traditional Jew though, prayer services can be somewhat daunting—the language, foreign and difficult to pronounce, and the customs, unfamiliar and awkward. Often it is the music that can help ease these people into the prayer experience. For music is the universal language, and music can help level the “praying field!”

Beginnings

How we begin the prayer experience is important. We need to recognize where the congregants are coming from—a missed train, a late babysitter, a hassled week at work, a week of being indoors with a sick child. They need to be welcomed into the prayer experience. I was reminded recently about how important this Kabbalat Shabbat experience can be. As I sat in Congregation B’nei Jeshurun in Manhattan, I couldn’t help but notice that we sang together in prayer for a solid half hour, before reaching Lecha Dodi. This conservative synagogue is not alone in its recognition of the importance of this beginning time. At Congregation Kol Hanishama, a Reform congregation in Jerusalem, Rabbi Levi Kelman also takes this warm-up time, this welcoming of the Shabbat, equally seriously. And so we learn from both experiences, that taking the time is important. It needs to be inviting, and not intimidating.

We need to be cognizant of who it is that plans our worship services. The Jewish professionals of the congregation plan our worship—those who do this “religion thing” as a profession. Getting into prayer is something that most probably comes easy to them! But not true for the layperson. She needs to be nurtured and guided into the experience. The opening music is our first chance! The music needs to be relatively easy to access, and familiar. I do not want the congregant to be focused on an awkward rhythm, or difficult melody. I want her to be looking inward and focusing on prayer. When carefully planned, the music at the beginning of the service can help her do just that.

Transitions

How one transitions from one part of the service to another greatly affects the prayer experience. The music that one selects during these transitional times needs to support the feeling that one is creating. For example, how one moves in and out of silence is terribly important. There needs to be a sense of quieting down, a slowing of the pace. Silence is not a familiar space for many of us whose lives are usually accompanied by a din of competing calls for our attention. Yet, the silent prayer is often cited as the part of the service that people most look forward to. When we select music that precedes the silent prayer, we need to help guide people to this special place. Similarly, when we come out of this silence, we want to help people hold on to the calm that they have just experienced, and so we select music that matches that quietude, gradually increasing the dynamics and tempo as we proceed onward through the liturgy.

It was not until the death of my father, that I understood the importance of the transition that was needed following the Mourners’ Kaddish. In most congregations, the next moment is filled with either announcements or a closing hymn. For the first time, I understood as a mourner, how jolting that closing hymn, or congregational announcement could be, coming on the heels of that prayer. Attention needs to be given to that transition, in such a way as to provide closure for the person saying Kaddish. In some congregations, that transition is accomplished by the rabbi reciting something in English, acknowledging how we as a congregation take the names of all of these people into our hearts. This transition can also be handled musically, with the insertion of an a cappella refrain, that is appropriately contemplative in nature, possibly using the text of Oseh Shalom. We ask people to open their hearts, and be present in prayer, and we need to be sensitive and respectful of their needs and their vulnerability.

Enhancing the Text

The music that we use in our worship services need to reflect the texts that they are accompanying. Surely we understand that our liturgical texts are sacred and enduring, yet sometimes we say the words, not really think about their meaning. Music is an opportunity to check in on the meaning of the text. When chosen sensitively, music can enhance and sometimes even bring new or deeper meaning to these age-old prayers. Think about that time in our service when we ask God to grant peace to us, and our people. Think of all the beautiful melodies that have been written for Sim Shalom, Shalom Rav, and Oseh Shalom, to name just a few prayers. Those melodies that you remember are the ones that truly gave extra meaning to those moments. What about the joy of the Israelites crossing the Red Sea, as they spoke those ancient words: Mi chamochah ba-eilim Adonai? Again, we can almost hear the joyful, triumphant melodies that have been composed expressly for that moment. And what about all of the new melodies that have been written to support the healing moments that congregations are now creating within their regular worship settings. These melodies capture the urgency of peoples’ prayers for healing for loved ones, in a way that the text alone, simply cannot do.

Our worship is made ever more meaningful by the inclusion of music that helps guide people into prayer, helps them make transitions within the service, and enhances and deepens the meaning of the text.

V. Music in Worship Today

We are living in a time when people finally get the importance of music in worship. They may not be in agreement as to how that music should sound, or how that music should be “performed” but everyone is in agreement that music is crucial to the prayer life of a congregation.

There was a time when people yearned to be spoken to and sung to! People flocked to Carnegie Hall in large numbers to hear great orators like Rabbi Stephen Wise, and great chazzanim like David Kousevitsky. They were lifted and inspired by these experiences, and they walked out of these great halls having transcended their mundane, day to day existence. That was the same generation who went to their doctor’s office, heard the doctor’s diagnosis, and left the office knowing just which pill to take for what ailed them. When asked though, why the doctor had prescribed that particular medication, or whether or not they had questioned a particular procedure that was being suggested, the answer would always be, “No. He is the professional. He knows best.”

Those times are long gone. People want to be involved in a very different way. They want to discuss the doctor’s diagnosis. They want to understand the doctor’s prescription, and they want to be part of the conversation. Similarly, people want to be empowered in prayer. They quite literally, want a voice in prayer. They want to be able to sing the sacred texts. As my dear friend and colleague, Cantor Benjie Ellen Schiller states, “Singing gives them the sacred key that allows their access to Jewish sacred tradition.”[6]

And so rabbis and cantors alike are responding to this hunger for empowerment by offering their laity opportunities to study Hebrew, lead t’filah, chant from the Torah, and sing along in prayer as much as possible. Cantors are needing to think about the keys that they are singing in, and the accessibility of the melodies they select. Similarly, our seminaries are thinking about the training that our rabbinic and cantorial students are receiving to help them prepare for this new breed of congregant. In the School of Sacred Music at Hebrew Union College, guitar is now a required instrument for all cantorial students. A new required course has been added to the cantors’ curriculum entitled “Understanding and Empowering the Congregational Voice.”

Congregations across the denominations are seeking ways to involve the congregational voice. Some rabbis are using the formerly reserved “rabbi’s sermon slot” as a time for congregational discussion. Others are engaging the congregation in chevrutah study (partnered discussion), to help them understand the parashah that is about to be read from the Torah. In many congregations, prior to the recitation of the Mi Shebeirach blessing, clergy are inviting congregants to say the name aloud of the loved one for whom they are requesting healing. Other congregations are reserving a time during the service where people can share their “shehechiyanu moments” of the past week. Congregants share aloud what they are grateful for, or what simchah they have just celebrated. And still, in other congregations, prior to the recitation of the Kaddish, congregants who are commemorating a yahrtzeit are given the opportunity to say something about their deceased love one for whom they are reciting Kaddish.

How better to encourage congregational participation than through the music? We are seeing the creation of special worship service models where congregational singing is the norm—Friday Night Live, One Shabbat Morning, Shabbat Unplugged, the Carlebach Minyan, to name just a few. Some congregations learn to expect this particular type of service as the 1^st Shabbat of every month. Others exist weekly as an alternative minyan. Some are created with very little in the way of spoken text—one congregational melody followed by another congregational melody, sometimes woven together by a story or an iyun offered by the rabbi. As the community together intones one prayer after another, the sense of K’hilah K’doshah is pervasive. People are empowered, involved, and engaged. Many speak of these Shabbat experiences as the highlight of their week.

Of course, not everyone wants to participate in this way. Some, in fact, find this kind of worship to be somewhat imposing and would far prefer to listen. Some are uncomfortable with the expectation of participation. They miss the more classical and traditional melodies usually sung solo by the cantor. This presents a challenge for the clergy and the lay leadership of the congregation. How do we respect the needs of all of our congregants? How do we create an inclusive community, where everyone’s prayer needs can be honored? It is not so easy to accomplish. Some congregations feel that by offering a monthly menu of services that include a different style each week, all congregant’s needs will be met. Others feel that they need to offer multiple minyanim that meet simultaneously every week, so that all needs can be addressed each Shabbat. Needless to say, the staffing requirements for this kind of worship can be quite labor intensive, and for many congregations, simply prohibitive. Although the solution to this question is not yet clear, the journey to discovering this solution is an exciting challenge.

VI. Where Are We Headed?

We are living during a wonderful, opportune time. People finally get the important role that music plays in our Jewish lives. It is our responsibility to seize this moment. We must listen, we must respond, we must educate, and we must lead.

The purpose of music in prayer is to deepen the prayer experience. We must take the emphasis off of the particular music that is being sung, and instead shift the focus on how well it serves the prayer experience. The truth is that in order to meet the diverse needs of our praying communities, we must find an artful synthesis of the many Jewish musical styles available to us. Cantor Jack Mendelson, a dear friend and colleague, who serves on the faculty of the cantorial schools of both Hebrew Union College–Jewish Institute of Religion and the Jewish Theological Seminary, refers to this as Jewish music fusion. We need to find a way to move prayerfully from nusach to folk music to chazzanut, from participatory moments to listening moments, from the majestic sounds of the choir to the communal voice of the congregation. For it is in this combination of musical style that we will find a way to speak to everyone. The answer need not lie in everyone being able to sing everything, but rather in everyone’s being engaged and honored in the prayer experience.

With an increased emphasis on serious Jewish adult education, congregants can be taught to appreciate chazzanut and nusach, and eventually to even participate in both. Our Jewish musical heritage is a rich one, and one that we surely want to keep alive. In order to do that we need to partner this genre of music alongside the more easily accessible folk melodies, allowing our congregants opportunities for engagement both through listening and singing along. As a dear friend and colleague, Cantor Ellen Dreskin, taught me, if we are indeed creating sacred communities, where one honors the traditions of all of its members, every melody of every prayer need not speak to each and every person in the same way. We just need to recognize that each person relates to prayer differently, and different melodies will serve people in different ways. As long as we know that the intent of each piece of music is about heightening the prayer, then we can trust the integrity of the selection. We can learn to appreciate the different styles, and we can weave an even richer tapestry of Jewish worship music.

—Merri Lovinger Arian teaches at HUC-JIR School of Sacred Music in New York, while serving as the Synagogue 3000 Consultant on Liturgical Arts at HUC. Merri is also the Director of Music for Synagogue 3000. This article first appeared in the revised edition of Teaching Tefilah—an A.R.E publication.

ADDITIONAL RESOURCES

Books and Articles

Eisenstein, Judith Kaplan. Heritage of Music: The Music of the Jewish People. Wyncote, PA: The Reconstructionist Press, 1990.

Hoffman, Lawrence A. The Art of Public Prayer: Not for Clergy Only. Woodstock, VT: Sky Light Paths Publishing, 1999.

Hoffman, Lawrence A. and Janet R. Walton, eds. Sacred Sound and Social Change. Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1992.

Synagogue 2000. Itinerary for Change: Prayer. Los Angeles, CA: Synagogue 2000, 2002.

Music

Arian, Merri Lovinger. R’fuah Sh’leimah: Songs of Jewish Healing. Los Angeles, CA: Synagogue 2000, 2002. Songbook. Available from Transcontinental Music Publications.

——. Nefesh: Songs for the Soul. Los Angeles, CA: Synagogue 2000, 2002. Compact disc.

Taubman, Craig. Friday Night Live. Sherman Oaks, CA: Sweet Louise Productions, 1999. Compact disc and songbook. Available from A.R.E. Publishing, Inc.

——. One Shabbat Morning. Sherman Oaks, CA: Sweet Louise Productions, 2002. Compact disc and songbook. Available from A.R.E. Publishing, Inc.