Don’t Beat the Choir
They might bite you, and other 18th century Jewish musical advice
On Rosh Hashanah & Yom Kippur, I was in heaven. Not just because that’s where my thoughts were, but because I had two fantastic choirs. The first and most important choir I had was my congregation, which was filled with many people who knew the liturgy well and were ready to sing almost any melody I threw at them. But I also had a small ensemble of retired cantors who both sang choral standards and provided instant harmonies to my liturgical improvisations. They were knowledgeable, flexible, and most importantly, sang with kavannah (intention).
This group was not your typical synagogue choir, which is often comprised of semi-pro or amateur volunteers, and perhaps a cadre of paid professionals. Choirs, in many ways, mirror a congregation itself, including singers with a broad range of musical abilities and religious convictions. This inclusivity is part of the the beauty of the choir, in which all types of people gather to create a special religious (or minimally, musical) experience. But religious choral experiences are also quite demanding, requiring both high levels of aesthetic excellence, congregational leadership, and spiritual intention.
Church and synagogue choirs range from good to middling in many of these areas, and I applaud their efforts. But these high and often competing demands represent the challenge of liturgical choral work. Musical complexity of all types is often in tension with wholehearted prayer, as in an imperfect choral world one must often choose between excellence in form (music / vocal aesthetics) and excellence in religious function (leadership and intention). When one of these areas lacks, the whole enterprise suffers.
These complex issues of music, faith, and leadership are encapsulated in this excerpt from Rabbi / Cantor Shlomo Lipschitz’s cantorial manual, Teudat Shlomo (1718). You can read the Hebrew original here for what follows. I would like to thank my colleague and Beyond the Music reader, Rabbi Cantor Michael McCloskey, for partnering with me on this week’s translation. His eloquent word choice and eye for textual allusions have enhanced the humor and raw truth of Rabbi Lipschitz’s choral challenge:
Just as the world cannot exist without wind,1 the cantor cannot exist without meshorerim. But sometimes they are hateful and rebellious, gluttons and drunkards, spending morning and evening in taverns and social banquets. “Eat, friends and drink deeply, companions!2”“And they ate and drank and they arose to make merry,”3 making [such] sport [that] anyone who hears will laugh at them. Of them, it is written: “They have rendered me like a harp which [clowns] plays on in drinking houses.”4 So what can a child or bass do to avoid sinning?5 They do not go to synagogue on weekdays, saying to each other: “Why are you going to synagogue today? It’s not Rosh Chodesh and it’s not Shabbat!6 And the cantor is not praying today, and even if he prays it won’t be musical at all.” And they stand next to the cantor like they are coming to annul vows, moaning and whimpering like a shevarim.7 They stand like Aharon & Hur, but they are reckless and empty like a cistern or a pit!8 And together they raise their voices, and every eye beholds, seeing that one does not appear like the other, but what is equal between them is that they do not pray the essentials of the service. The essentials for them are the conversations they have in the middle of prayer. And sometimes, for the sake of friendship, the cantor speaks with them. Can one have a friendship with the Heavens?9
Rabbi Lipschitz is committed to the sacred choral form that defines his era and craft, but he is not blind to the fact that its practitioners can give the whole thing a bad rap. The choristers of his day were not always recruited from among the humble and the pious, but from carousing musicians who got their vocal chops bellowing out the latest drinking song down the pub. These choristers are just as good at talking as they are at singing; the only problem is that they are chatting during services — something utterly abhorred by rabbis of this era, despite the practice’s continued popularity, even to this day.10 This is made even more egregious by the fact that, as model worshipers together with the cantor, the only person that these singers should be “talking to” is the Lord their God. Their non-attendance at weekday services is a testament to the competing priority of aesthetics over piety in the synagogue; ergo, the statutory prayers are not worth attending except on weekends, and only if the music is good.
What is to be done? Is the choral enterprise doomed to profanation? Let us see what Rabbi Lipschitz says. At this point, I will only add that the same religious indictments made of the eighteenth century cantors and meshorerim — specifically around drunkenness, laxity with prayer, and wild gestures — are similar (and sometimes identical) to those made about the chasidim, another popular movement with a musical focus rising at this time.11
Yet from amidst their disgrace, we shall attend to their praise; and the bass shall not be profaned. Israel is holy, and even the empty among them are filled with good deeds like a pomegranate12. So many virtues do they possess, as I have seen in many holy communities and in my own, that they sing for the glory of God; pray with great intention; go every day of the week, morning and night, to the synagogue; and establish times for Torah study, each one according to his knowledge and ability. And [the] bass seeks out God each day and prays with complete intention.
And a young boy [singer] who humbles himself: He separates himself from ugliness and from anything resembling it, keeps far from loss and close to the reward of walking to synagogue, and prays with intention and a gracious heart, “a wise heart [tending] toward the right hand.13” And that child, when he reaches school age: “Train a lad in the way he ought to go14” a good way, praying on the eves of Sabbath and Festivals. “The kids will become goats,”15 and when he is old he shall not depart from it. “Depart from evil and do good,”16” for then all shall be well with him. And if they do so, happy shall they be and and happy their portion, a portion of such youths worthy of blessing.
Rabbi Lipschitz here takes an inclusive, “strengths-based” approach, citing that even less-than-ideal choral candidates have something to offer, as they are“filled with good deeds like a pomegranate.” In this reference from Tractate Chagigah (27a), Rabbi Lipschitz leaves out the beginning of the quotation: “the sinners of Israel (posh’ei yisraeil) are filled with good deeds like a pomegranate. In this he is subtly saying what he began this with — even such musical sinners can be a source of good deeds.
Rabbi Lipschitz nevertheless treasures the pious singers that he has had the privilege to work with, both young and old. He has seen children brought up as both good Jews and good liturgical singers, provided they are given a good education. And Rabbi Shlomo has experienced pious bass singers. We have evidence of this in the form of a Tikkun Soferim (a scribal guide used for writing Torah scrolls) that is dedicated to Rabbi Lipschitz by one of his meshorerim in Frankfurt.17
So with dueling realities of pious and transgressive singers, Rabbi Lipschitz takes a moment to encourage common decency and honor between them and the cantor:
The cantor should be cautious regarding their honor so as never to embarrass them, and all the more so not to strike them, God forbid! “There shall not be any blow18” — that is to the legs, as some cantors do, causing the meshorerim to kick the cantor [back]. Such a blow causes [further] kicking and biting,19 for [the choir] long to bite him like a donkey!20 Therefore, the cantor should be careful not to garner their wages, and give unto them their due portion. Moreover, the meshorerim should be very very cautious about the honor of the cantor. They should sing with faith and with all their strength in honor of the Omnipresent and in honor of humanity, and they should pray with full intention. Thus they will surely be pleasant to God and humanity alike.
Music is such a wonderful opportunity for shared purpose, mutual support, and even prayer. And then there are the times you want to bite your director.
As a college student, I was at a rehearsal of the Vienna Philharmonic in which the guest conductor, a famous name who (alas) spoke no German, faced a revolt from the orchestra while rehearsing a piece that the Philharmonic had never played in its entire history. I watched these elite classical players kibitzing and ignoring the conductor, acting like sniggering high school students with a boring sub. “Why don’t you look at me? Do I scare you?,” he said to an offending woodwind. Eventually the orchestra fell in line, but not before the basses could get away with playing a few passages with their bows held backwards.
Rabbi Lipschitz would have been rightly offended. Almost three hundred years before, he knew that you should never beat the choir. Gentle direction and mutual honor would make for a better experience for all.
Our choral moralist now continues with a detailed biblical and Talmudic defense for the institution of the meshorerim:
To remove from thought those who say: “Why should we cry out [with this ensemble] before the King? Two voices will not be heard, let alone three!21”
—Do not we see that, in the Temple, some Levites would play together and would sing with several types of musical instruments? The essence of song is vocal; only now we have no Temple, no priest, no levitical musician, and no groups of musical instruments.
And as further evidence, see what comes in [the Mishnah] Masechet Arakhin 2:6: “There were no fewer than twelve Levites standing on the pulpit, and they could be increased ad infinitum. No minor would enter the Temple courtyard for service except at a time when the Levites were engaging in song, And [minors] would not engage in lyre or harp, but only [singing] with the mouth, in order to give flavor to the music. Rabbi Eliezer ben Ya’akov says: Minors are not counted in the total [of twelve Levites], and they do not ascend to the platform; rather, they would stand on the ground and their heads would reach to between the legs of the Levites, and they were called ‘cadets of the Levites.’”
And Rabbi Ovadiah of Bartenura expounded [upon this Mishnah]: “ ‘No minor’ Levite enters into the Temple courtyard for any Divine service except when the Levites are standing on the platform in song, or the minor Levites enter to sing with them. And those minors would not [sing] with harp or lyre, but only vocally; ‘In order to give flavor’: to give spice to the chanting of the Levites, because the voice of the children is thin and clear and spices up the voice of the adults; ‘Do not count’: [refers to] those minors [regarding] the total of the twelve Levites that are needed for the platform; ‘And they don’t stand’: on the portico that is prepared for the platform, rather they stand on the ground; ‘And they were called the cadets [tzoarei] of the Levites’: that they cause pain [m’tza’arim] to the adult Levites, for they are not able to make fragrant and to sweeten their voices like them.”
Because of such [criticism], we merited judgment, for in the Temple there were also meshorerim. Therefore, do not ridicule meshorerim. Anyone who says something against the Mishnah is at a disadvantage. Only [insist] that they should sing reverently and pray with intention, in honor of the Dweller on High, and they shall merit to go up to Jerusalem in song.
If you want to change something in Judaism, the best way to argue is to go back to the institutions of the Temple. This is a classic exegetical move, especially with regards to Jewish music, which reached its zenith with the levitical choirs and orchestras of the Jerusalem Temple. Rabbi Lipschitz makes his case for choral complexity with youth and adult singer by quoting mishnaic descriptions of these biblical practices, together with Rabbi Ovadiah of Bartenura’s commentary, which explains how the youth chorus added vocal “spice” and “fragrance”to the Temple’s musical offerings. Amazingly, Rabbi Lipschitz seems to imply that the absence of the Temple only invalidates the levitical and instrumental structures of Temple music. The essence of song is vocal [ikkar shira b’feh], so musical complexity must continue vocally via the meshorerim.22
Rabbi Lipschitz has more to say on the matter (and will go on to quote the entirety of Leon of Modena’s responsum on art music in the synagogue, which he read in Salamone Rossi’s HaShirim Asher Lishlomo). But for now, let close with the Rabbi’s conclusion: don’t mock the institution, but encourage worthy standards instead. Don’t make fun of choirs, and also encourage them to achieve both music and piety.
Is Rabbi Lipschitz on point? Or is he being too generous? Leave what you think in the comments.
Whatever side you take, I don’t think we should be surprised at Rabbi Lipschitz’s need to deploy apologetics, because the simmering tension between music and religious conformity is very, very old. Music, by nature, expands human freedom and expression. Mitzvot (religious laws), on the other hand, limit human freedom and expression. The two are thus inherently in opposition. It is therefore unremarkable that the most musical people in any society are typically more open minded and accepting of human freedom and diversity, and in the extreme, who run up against transgressive limits of their culture. Music will always realize our desire for freedom and expression — the question is how we channel and direct that desire.
Not everyone can have retired cantors in their choir. But perhaps we can see all of our choirs as opportunities to channel both musical growth and spiritual growth. Cantor Jerome Kopmar, my retired colleague who served at Beth El in Akron, OH and Beth Abraham in Dayton, OH, did just that. Over his storied career, he created childrens’ choirs of 80-110 voices with high musical standards, and which toured and recorded many albums (almost one a year in the early days). But to Cantor Kopmar, it was just a way to teach Judaism. I have met many Jews to this day who link their enduring love of Judaism and Jewish life to the power of singing in this group, even for just one precious year.
More on the choir next week. In conclusion — May this be a year of beauty and goodness, music and mitzvah together. And in the spirit of both Rabbi Lipschitz and the Jewish holiday of Sukkot: “Go, eat your bread in gladness, and drink your wine in joy; for your action was long ago approved by God.”23
Cf. Babylonian Talmud (BT) Ta’anit 3a.
Song of Songs 5:1.
A reference to the activity of the Israelites at the sin of the Golden Calf. Cf. Ex.32:6.
Paraphrase, cf. BT Sanhedrin 101a.
Cf. BT Berachot. 32a. This section of the Talmud explain how the riches of Israel ended up being turned into a Golden Calf (Ex. 32). An analogy is made to a man who lavished his son with food, drink, oils, and money, and brought him to a brothel. R. Lipschitz here expands the punchline of the story, adding the words “או ב״ס”. This potent pun on the homonym between the word for bass and the word daughter (bas, in Ashkenazic pronunciation) is used in multiple contemporary critiques of the meshorerim ensemble.
2 Kings 4:23.
Cf. BT Rosh Hashana 33b.
Cf. Exod. 17:12.
BT Berachot 34a.
The amount of current-day apologetics for talking socially (i.e. not to God) during prayer is astounding and would have scandalized all pre-modern rabbis. This partly has to do with subconscious factors regarding both song and prayer, and is partly (you may be surprised) an inheritance from our Christian Baroque neighbors. I will write more on this at another time. In the meantime, here’s “a measured call regarding talking in shul.”
See my Masters Thesis:“A Pleasant Aroma: Cantorial Mussar (Ethics) in the 18th Century” (M.S.M. Thesis, Jewish Theological Seminary, 2011): 8-10.
BT Hagigah 27a.
This relates to a kabbalistic comment on avoiding the mystical forces which menace a person while walking to synagogue, as written by Rabbi Lipschitz’s late contemporary, Rabbi Tzvi Hirsch Kaidanover (1650-1712) in his book the Kav HaYashar (1:12): “And it being known, that the atmosphere of the world is full of the Dark Side (sitra achra), and especially with the accusing [angels], who are made from the errors and sins of human beings, roving about the earth in the air, as is mentioned many times in the Zohar, and one should be careful, lest in one’s walking to synagogue, the outside forces cling through this to the person as they hurry to go to the synagogue. Of this one should know what is written in the Zohar [3: 263b], “that to the left of the doorway there is one from the Dark Side” and about him it is stated [Genesis 4:7], “Sin crouches at the door”. And the mezuzah, affixed to the right, alludes to the holy Shekhinah [Malchut], and a mnemonic for this is “the heart of a wise person is to their right”, and therein is her [Shekhinah’s] proper place.” My thanks to Rabbi McCloskey for this observation and translation.
Prov. 22:6. The quotation ends: “He will not swerve from it even in old age.”
BT Berachot 63a.
Ps. 34:15.
This is held in the The National Library of Israel Jerusalem Israel, Ms. Heb. 8° 3211.
Exodus 30:12. This originally refers to the avoidance of plague, but here makes a play on the word negef which can mean both “plague” and “strike/blow.”
BT Bava Kamma 2b. This is a reference to the subcategories of goring by an ox, thus comparing the offending cantor and meshorerim to oxen in the musical china shop.
BT Pesachim 49b.
BT Rosh Hashanah 27a. The Talmud here considers how the Temple trumpets and the shofar could both be heard when sounded together.
One could think of Rabbi Lipschitz as making, in a way, a Temple-based argument for Jewish a cappella. The low hierarchy, popular ethos of the movement (and its vocal-instrumental aesthetics) have made it, to some extent, a modern iteration of the meshorerim phenomenon. Before the COVID-19 pandemic, I edited a book of Jewish a cappella-style arrangements for Jewish liturgy. For a series of hot takes on the potential of Jewish a cappella as a spiritual tool, you can read the introductory essays to the book here.
Ecclesiastes 9:7.
Thank you for the kind words, Adrianne. I appreciate your readership, and it would be wonderful to do something together in Sarasota.
As always with your commentaries, I read with enthusiasm and wonder how you find out such interesting and juicy tidbits of history. My own experience in services this year was one of necessarily posting to search and find a place where I could listen and perhaps collaborate with the Hazzan’s intentional singing as I knew ahead of time that, after 25 years of offering such at synagogue, this year’s HH services were about to rob me of spiritual feeling. (Found and done). Your brilliant, astute thoughts about how the cantor and choir can/will or cannot/will not help spiritual feelings were so on target with me. And the historical references of Lipshitz and also the talking in shul, my gosh, we’re still at it. Guilty myself for sure, but especially if not being “moved”…
A sheynem dank, todah raba, for what you are about, Mr. Matt.
Finally, a little - and necessarily - personal: I do hope you realize I will follow you - to most places - for any musical collaboration, especially if in Sarasota (family member down there but not sure what synagogue she switched to), Ohio, or DC area.)